Chapter Eighty-Four

Three days had gone by and there was still no sign of Angel. No word, no hint, no nothing. The only thing Colton knew for sure was that she hadn’t been caught, because her photo was still being broadcast on the news along with a hotline number for tips.

He shut the TV off, wondering where she could be. Had she been abducted? That didn’t seem likely. Her kidnapper would have recognized her and cashed in the reward by now.

Could she be lying in a ditch somewhere? That depressing thought must have been dredged up by some buried parental gene. He shook the thought away. Angel was a trained marshal. She would be able to get herself out of any scrape.

Which left only one other possible answer.

She’d deliberately left him.

Again.

Did she have a list of men she’d protected in the past? Was she just working her way through them, a few weeks here, a few weeks there?

No. He didn’t believe that. She’d said she loved him. Well, she had almost said it, anyway. Angel Larson didn’t just blurt things out like that and not mean them. At least he didn’t think so.

But where the hell was she?

The cops or feds in the SUV had given up on him the day before. He’d held out hope that she’d known he was being followed and would turn up as soon as they were gone. He’d stayed up late last night in anticipation of her arrival, but she never showed.

He’d even opened up her laptop, but after being faced with a password he didn’t know he’d turned it off again.

He looked down at the phone Thorne had left her. Colton knew Thorne would pick up immediately if he called. Wouldn’t he want to know she was missing? Wouldn’t he do something to help?

Colton had to try. He couldn’t sit here waiting any longer. He hit redial and waited the two rings before a deep voice said, “Yes?”

“Um, Mr. Thorne, it’s Colton.”

“Where’s Angel? Has she been taken into custody?”

“No. She’s not been taken in. At least I’m pretty sure she hasn’t. The thing is…” He ran his hand over his hair, thinking maybe he shouldn’t have called, after all. “I lost her.”

“What do you mean you lost her?”

“I mean, we were at a motel and the police showed up, and she jumped off the third-floor balcony, and I can’t find her.”

“Did you look on the ground under the balcony?”

Colton scowled at the phone. Seriously? “Yes.” He had checked, and was very glad she wasn’t there.

“She’ll turn up.” Thorne’s voice was nothing but confidence.

How could he be so damn sure?

“That’s it? She’ll turn up?” Colton burst out.

“Yeah. She’s a trained marshal who can get out of anything. If she’s not lying dead on the ground, it means she’s mobile and she’s fine.”

Colton had serious doubts about this man being like a father to Angel. Generally speaking, fathers were a lot more concerned when their children went missing. Even adult children, he assumed.

“You’re not going to look for her?”

“No. She’ll get in contact with me if she needs something.”

“But I have her phone.” Obviously. He was speaking into it at the moment. “She has no money, no credit cards, no identification. Just the clothes on her back and maybe a broken down car.”

“She will find a way.” The man actually sounded proud.

“You do realize she’s a human, right? Not a real Angel, or a superhero with magical powers.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. If she doesn’t show up in the next week, call me again. She might not come back to your place if it’s hot.”

Colton knew he wasn’t talking about the temperature. He meant people watching. He hadn’t seen anyone since yesterday, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. Were they keeping Angel from coming home?

Not that this was her home. Not really.

“I take it that SUV following me isn’t your guys,” he said, wanting confirmation.

“Nope. Not us.”

“Okay. I’ll keep you posted.”

Thorne grunted, then disconnected without so much as a goodbye.

Colton tossed the phone on the sofa and poured himself a glass of whiskey. He set the bottle on the coffee table, knowing it was a waste of time to put it away.

He was officially losing it.

The woman he loved was out there somewhere and he had no idea if she was safe. Or if she planned to come back.

The rest of the summer lay before him with no plans. He could afford to spend one of those days recovering from a night of drinking. It didn’t matter that it was barely six o’clock. Who would know? It wasn’t as if he had any friends or family.

He just wanted to find a way to stop his brain from playing the endless reel of horrible scenarios that could be keeping her away. Everything from human trafficking to Bigfoot flashed into his head. The worst thing he’d thought of was if Redgamer3 had been watching her and found her. If he had taken her—

Colton again tried to block the horrific thoughts.

Where was she?

Pudge tilted his head and let out a whine. Apparently, he’d asked that last question out loud.

“Perfect. I’m back to having conversations with my dog.”

He finished off the first glass of whiskey in one gulp, and set up the next.

“You were just a puppy when she left us the last time. You used to sit by the door and cry. I envied you. When puppies cry, it’s endearing. When men cry, it’s pathetic.”

He held up glass number four—or six—and shot it down, hoping the pain would go away soon.

Pudge put his chin on Colton’s knee and looked up at him with sad brown eyes.

“I know. I miss her, too. I’m sorry you can’t drink. It does help a little.”

Unfortunately he knew from experience that drinking was only a temporary fix. But if he could have one night of peace, he would take it.

He’d deal with everything else tomorrow.

Or the next bottle.