Double Dare(38)

CHAPTER TEN


Derek




“Are you serious?” I roared. “What the fuck?”

Mason shrugged, although his expression was grim.

“Yeah, Mayflower Lane or some shit like that. It’s the ghetto dude, our girl is living in the ghetto.”

Because Katie disappeared without a trace. It was unreal. One minute we were part of a trio, going at it non-stop, Mace and me spurting into the delectable female again and again. But now our girl was gone. Up in the middle of the night, in the middle of sex for crying out loud, she excused herself and made a getaway.

“How do we know she’s gone for good?” I asked grimly. “Did Katie leave a note?”

Mason just shook his head, growling with frustration.

“Naw, no note, but check this out,” he said, opening his palm. “She left this.”

And shit, but the ring was there, both diamonds glinting and winking like they were taunting us. What the fuck? That thing cost us six figures, but suddenly it seemed worthless now that Katie didn’t want it anymore. Storming into the lobby like two giants, Mace and I attacked the doorman.

“Did you see her?” I questioned Leo, hands gripping his collar. “What was she doing?”

But elderly man couldn’t help, trembling in his red and gold uniform.

“Miss had a bag with her,” he stammered, looking down, almost shaking with fright. “She had a bag and called a cab.”

“Well, where’d they go?” demanded Mason, blue eyes sharp, voice a growl. “Where was a young girl going by herself in the middle of the night? Did you think to ask?”

Leo shuddered visibly, shrinking into himself.

“I didn’t see,” he muttered, bottom lip trembling. “I’m sorry sirs, I didn’t see.”

I closed my eyes, a headache coming on. Shit, this was so fucking lame. We’d pounded her good, loving that sweet body, worshipping everything about Katie. So why had she taken off in the middle of the night? What the hell, it made no sense.

It was especially confusing, and my mind circled back to that ring. Oh yeah, that engagement ring cost us six figures, but it was the right thing to do. The two diamonds, one light, one dark, symbolized everything Mace and I couldn’t say to Katie. It glimmered, so precious, so starkly rare and beautiful, and most of all, one hundred percent real. Because these were real diamonds, no cubic zirconia or lab-grown anything. Even if our relationship existed in a bubble, it was still real in some sense. We felt something for one another, engaging each other in endless chit chat, jokes, and even deep conversation.

So why the hell had Katie taken off? What in the world? I wanted to beat Leo into the ground, but that was no way to treat a loyal servant, especially one who was nearing seventy. So instead, I turned back to Mace.

“We’ll find her,” I ground out, blue eyes flashing. “We have to.”

My lover almost roared again, the rage and anguish totally visible.

“But what the fuck?” he protested. “Why now? What the hell?”

I shook my head.

“Who knows? But whatever it is, we’ve got to find her.”

So yeah, our private investigator was on it the next morning. And within hours, he’d located Katie. It wasn’t hard. Yellow cab with sweet, nubile eighteen-year old, departing the Markham Apartments around midnight last night? She couldn’t hide, an email with her address popping into our inboxes by eleven a.m. But when Mace and I realized where she was living, the nightmare began.

“Are you serious?” I grunted again, disbelieving. “This is the place?”

Because we’d taken an unmarked car out to New Jersey, slowly coasting down the block where our girl was allegedly staying. And frankly, there was nothing to see. Or more accurately, what there was to see was such an eyesore that it was better to close your eyes. Cracked concrete lined the sidewalks, each box-like house saggy and faded, more than a few broken windows papered over with cardboard. There was no vegetation in sight, the sun beating down, hot air visibly rising off the asphalt.

“Guess this Aunt Mae wasn’t exactly rolling in it,” muttered Mace, shaking that dark head. “Why the hell would she come here?”

Exactly. Why would Katie leave the comfort and luxury of our home to live in this dilapidated saltbox? She could be taking a bath in one of our dozen bathrooms, soaking in bubbles, or working out in the private gym. Whereas here, the metal chain link fences were grim, barking Rottweilers lunging inside.

But it wasn’t too late. More than anything, we just wanted answers. Why was she doing this? What happened to the plan? What happened to the fake engagement? Even if she didn’t want to do that anymore, still. Why take off in the middle of the night?