Max came in just as Jagger was leaving, his eyes meeting Derrick’s across the room. He answered the question Derrick held on the tip of his tongue by simply shaking his head.
Which meant Martine wasn’t by the pond or in the surrounding woods.
Fuck. If he wasn’t worried before, he was worried now. If she’d somehow gone into the city on her own, thinking he was there, what would her prick of a father do to her?
“Anything?” Max asked, his face grave.
“I think she went into the city because she thought I went there to talk to her mother.” He explained what had transpired with Morris and Jagger.
Max ran a hand over his jaw. “So now what?”
“Now I take the information we found on her mother and I go find Martine.” Fuck, he needed to find her. Needed to see her, needed to know she was okay.
“We go find her. I’m not letting you walk into this shitpile alone.”
“Can’t let you do that, Max.” Not a chance in hell was he going to let Max risk his future with JC.
Max’s eyes went dark and domineering. “You can and you will. You don’t have a choice. Now let’s not argue about this. We’re losing time while we bullshit. You wanna run or drive?”
Derrick was already halfway out the bar door. “Running’s probably faster. No cops to worry about giving us tickets.”
Max nodded, right beside him. “I’ll text JC and ask her to pack us a backpack so we have clothes.”
Derrick nodded as he braced himself for the harsh wind that had begun to blow. He pointed up at the darkening sky. “We’d better hurry it up. Looks like this could get nasty.”
Max clamped a hand on his shoulder to stop him. “Hold up. You okay?”
No. No, he wasn’t okay. He was worried sick about Martine and her safety. About the possibility of her meeting up with this Escobar or her father or both, defenseless, and it made him want to punch his fist through a wall. “I’m damn worried about her,” he admitted openly.
“Then let’s go get your mate,” Max urged, taking off toward his house, where Derrick knew JC would have packed some clothes for them to put on when they got to Queens.
As he ran to catch up with Max, he was reminded once more that he hadn’t made up with Martine. They hadn’t talked to each other for two days, and if something happened to her, he’d never be able to tell her that while he wasn’t backing down on his position about her mother, he was sorry they’d argued.
Because he missed talking to her. He missed wrapping his arm around her and tucking her close after they made love, falling asleep with the scent of her in his nose.
He wanted to tell her that the hole in his gut was getting deeper by the second just thinking he wouldn’t have the chance to tell her that.
* * *
Distract him. How the hell could she distract Escobar while still in shift?
This was the thing weighing heavily on her mind as she listened to him wonder out loud who’d taken her from him to begin with.
As she’d listened to him hatch a plan to wreak havoc on their lives for even considering stealing from the great and powerful Escobar.
While his rant had picked up steam, she’d found a hole in her catio. One she couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen. One she was not only sure had been made by whomever had stolen her from Escobar to begin with, but that she knew she could fit through if she was willing to end up with some chicken wire embedded in her skin.
She’d gained weight since staying with Derrick and his delicious meals showed along her rib cage. No way was she getting out of this unscathed.
“So who do you suppose would dare steal you from me, Martine? If only I had more time, I’d press you for details, because you do know this thief needs to be punished—severely. No one steals from me and gets away with it.”
“Meowwwww!” she howled, rubbing her body up against the rusty wire, her eyes wild and fierce when she looked into Escobar’s.
He tilted his head full of dark hair and flicked the wire. “Hush! What’s the matter with you?”
She howled louder, pulling air into her wee kitty lungs and letting ’er rip. “Meooooowwww!” she wailed, pacing back and forth as though she’d gone mad.
What worried her most was the possibility he’d put a silencing spell on her, snatching her voice so she wouldn’t keep howling and end up discovered.
He’d done it plenty after he’d first captured her. She’d railed against her captivity, and with no ability to speak, she’d done it loudly—vigorously—and it had driven him insane. He’d silenced her from that point on, so when he was gone, no one would ever know she was in his clutches.