Shelby

I’m sound asleep when the door to my bedroom crashes open, causing my heart to nearly leap out of my chest. “What the hell?” I cry, sitting up in bed, suddenly wide awake.

Lorna stands in the hallway, barely visible over a hulking Wyatt, who’s already moving toward my bed. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I tried to stop him.”

“I’m done being stopped by you fucking people,” Wyatt snaps at her, flinging the door closed.

I scowl as I swing my legs over the side of the bed. “You didn’t have to be so rude.”

Wyatt snorts and folds his arms over his broad chest. “Like hell. That old witch is part of the reason I don’t know about my own damn kid. Besides, you have to show respect to get it, and she’s never shown me any of that.”

I suddenly become aware of the situation I’m in at this moment. A tiny room, a single bed, wearing nothing but a white tank top and pink panties. “Can you wait in the hallway?” I rasp, pulling the blanket up to cover myself.

He smirks. “What’s wrong, Shel? Don’t want me to see you without a bra? I mean, it’s not like I haven’t seen them before.”

“Just go wait in the hall,” I hiss, tossing a pillow at his head.

Snatching it out of the air, he chuckles as he disappears through the door, closing it behind him. Asshole.

As soon as I hear the latch click, I hop off the bed and rush to my overnight bag. I dig through it, pulling out an off-white bra and a worn pair of jeans. I use the en suite bathroom and quickly brush my teeth and wash my face.

My purple-hued hair is short, and takes only a little effort to have it laying just right. Deciding to forgo the make-up, I slip my hand through a dozen or so silver bangles and open the bedroom door.

Wyatt’s gaze starts down at my toes and slowly glides back up to my face. “You don’t look much different, other than all the tattoos.”

I love tattoos. There’s something about commemorating important events in your life, or showing the world your soul through permanent art on your skin. It’s always fascinated me.

“I own a shop,” I inform him. “That way, when I run out of places on my own skin, I can ink up other people.” I look him up and down. “I see you still don’t have any.”

“This body is a fucking temple. No way in hell is anything important enough to make me desecrate it.”

I scan the body he so casually referred to, and he’s right. It is a temple. It’s chiseled, hard, and broad, and easily the sexiest male body I’ve ever seen. I’d love the opportunity to mark it with my tattoo gun—amongst other things.

“See something you like?”

Shit. “What exactly are you doing here at…”—I check my phone. Wow, I’d definitely been tired—“…eleven o’clock in the morning?”

Wyatt takes in my bedroom in all its early millennium charm, and frowns. “Can we talk somewhere else? Pretty sure the boy band posters are eye fucking me.”

A snort of laughter escapes through my nose in the most unladylike fashion, making Wyatt grin. “Downstairs,” I say through my chuckle. “We can sit out on the patio.”

As we hit the main floor, I see Lorna peering around the corner with worry creasing her wrinkled forehead. I give her a tight smile and point to the rear of the house to indicate our plans. I catch her nod just before I step outside into the late morning sun.

The metal chairs are starting to rust around the edges, but Lorna has kept the cushions in perfect condition over the years. I plop down in one of the chairs and wait for Wyatt to sit across from me.

“What did you find?”

Wyatt sighs. “Not a lot, to be honest. Still no signal on her phone. I did manage to get into her computer, though.” He leans forward. “Did she ever mention a game she liked to play called Blox World?”

I sit back and think. “Yes, she loved that game. She talked about it all the time, but she spoke about a lot of things she did online. I didn’t understand any of it.”

“Kids build worlds,” he persists, “talk to each other. Hang out. It’s a coder kid’s wet dream.”

My nose wrinkles. “Ew, gross. And besides, Hayden’s a girl. She has boobs, not wet dreams.”

Wyatt’s eyes narrow at the idea of his daughter having breasts. “Anyway,” he scowls, clearly not wanting to stay on that topic any longer. “It seems Hayden’s been playing it quite a bit, and talking to one user daily for a while. The last message said, from whomever it was, that they couldn’t wait for later. It was sent yesterday morning.”

Tears prick at my eyes. All along, I’d been telling everyone that someone had taken her, but Wyatt’s words have just confirmed it.

“Shelby, she was on that game at all hours of the day and night. Do you not monitor her online time?”

I gape at him. “Are you saying this is my fault?”

“No, I’m asking a fucking question.”

I press my hands to the arms of the chair, both to steady myself—as my world spins out of control—and to keep myself from lunging at this man for even insinuating I don’t take proper care of my daughter.

“Shelby is a straight A student. She does her chores, follows the rules, and never talks back. I trust her. Why would I monitor her online time? I don’t know a damn thing about the internet.”

His face softens. “And that’s exactly why she needs to be monitored. Online is the easiest place for a girl like her to fall victim to a predator.”

A sob wracks my entire body, and the tears I’d been fighting spill over. “What are we going to do?”

“We need a lawyer. We need the chat threads for Hayden’s account, all of them. We need to get a court order to get them from the game developer of Blox World.”