Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 148704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 744(@200wpm)___ 595(@250wpm)___ 496(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 744(@200wpm)___ 595(@250wpm)___ 496(@300wpm)
I won’t be going to the bar tonight.
I’m going home and baking a giant cake.
And then I’m going to eat it. Every last piece.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Crew
My attention continues to snap toward the door, waiting for the second my favorite girl walks through it. I’m pushing three hours in before the familiar platinum blonde enters, but it takes two seconds to note there’s nothing but a purse on her arm where a tiny brunette should be.
Layla slides right up to my end of the bar, and Willie weaves around, dragging a chair up for her.
“Where is she?” I ask instantly, glancing at the door once more.
“Home.” She sets her bag on the counter. “Something about an early shift tomorrow.”
My frown is instant.
Funny when she doesn’t go back to work until Monday.
“What’d she say?”
Layla lifts a brow. “That she had an early shift tomorrow.”
I glare at her, and she laughs.
“What? You want me to run down the whole day?” When I don’t look away, she shakes her head teasingly. “We went swimming, ate ten pounds of pasta, washed that down with chocolate-covered cherries and virgin margaritas. Then we got back in the pool and tanned for a while. We got out to get ready, and she said she had an early shift, so she decided to skip tonight.”
“Anyone call her while she was there?”
Why that question comes out, I don’t know.
Layla smirks, leaning forward as much as her pregnant belly allows. “If they did, she didn’t see the call until she left. We had a no-phone rule today.”
Tossing my towel in the basket beneath the counter, I jerk away. “I’m taking a piss.”
Laughter flows in my wake, but none comes from me.
Especially not when I call Davis and get her voice mail.
The little liar can’t cancel our plans and then not answer when I call.
I need to know she made it home safely, that she’s okay.
Her location says she’s at the house and that is the only reason I’m not in my car already. Thank fuck, since there’s not much I can do right now, not when I’ve got four more hours here, at least, and not with the traffic this social-media-made band has brought in tonight.
Maybe it’s best she didn’t come. This place is prick paradise right now.
I’ll deal with the little liar when I get home. Even if I have to pry the truth from her perfectly pouty pillows around my cock lips.
Yeah, that sounds like a solid plan for later.
I expect Davis to be asleep when I walk in, but the surprise that settles over me when I step into my room to find my bed empty is nothing compared to when I make my way to hers, and hers is too.
I check the bathroom and no Davis.
I hustle into the front of the apartment again, lifting and tossing the blanket on the couch, even though her body would have been visible beneath it. I move to the table near the door, spotting the bright-pink Laffy Taffy key chain attached to her car keys.
“Where the fuck is she?”
My gaze snaps around the room, settling on the kitchen counter, and the sweet treat on top of it. Walking over, I glare at the half-eaten cake, but it’s the two forks beside it causing my blood to boil.
Two fucking forks.
Two empty beds.
A dead motherfucker next door.
Throwing the front door open, I charge to the apartment beside ours, pounding heavily on the cheap wood.
“Open the door, you son of a bitch, or I’ll kick the motherfucker in.” A few beats go by and nothing, so I slam my fist harder. “I swear to fucking God, I’ll—”
The door is yanked open, a shirtless blond prick revealed on the other side.
I slam my forehead into his, and he stumbles back, gripping his head as I charge through the house.
“What the fuck are you doing, man?” he shouts.
My chest rumbles, and I swing my left arm out as I pass an empty office, slamming my fist into the wall without pausing my steps. Shoving his bedroom door open until it bounces off the wall, I charge into the room, yanking his blankets off the bed, but she’s not beneath them.
I rush back to the bathroom, and Jess charges forward.
“Get the fuck out of my house!” he screams, blood smeared along his brow.
I grip him by the neck, shoving him into the wall as I kick the bathroom door open, but it’s empty.
Tearing away from him, I dash back in his room, swinging the closet open, and it’s empty.
Chest heaving, I look around the room, footsteps pounding behind me.
“You need to leave before I call the police.”
“Call ’em. They know me.” My jaw locks, eyes tracking over every inch of the room. “Where the fuck is she?”
“Who…”
Swinging around, I get in his face, and after a second, his brows jump.