"Dunno how the fuck you walk on those stilts all day, every day." I needed to talk because the second my thumb pressed into her arch, she let out a whimpering sound that went right to my dick.

  "Not all of us can be five thousand feet tall in our bare feet," she said, pushing her other foot toward my hand.

  "You're tall for a woman," I shrugged, pressing the ache out of her second foot as she made another low groaning noise.

  There was a long silence after, long enough for me to wonder if she was maybe even asleep before her eyelids fluttered open. "So these massage skills of yours, are they strictly limited to feet?"

  I felt my lips twitch and curve. "Curl up and see," I suggested.

  There wasn't even a hesitation before she was scooting up and onto my left, mostly toward my other side, the upper half of her body curled forward, so her face was resting in the curve of my shoulder, giving me almost complete access to her back.

  Let's just say that the close contact was causing issues which thankfully she remained unaware of as her ass was situated fully on one of my thighs as I ran my hands up and down her back, digging in and working out knots where I found them. The whimper thing though, yeah, she kept doing that and I couldn't help but wonder that if a simple foot or back rub could make her so vocally appreciative, what it would be like to feast on her pussy or bury deep inside her.

  Her body melted into mine, her warm breath on my neck, her hands eventually moving up to rest around my shoulders.

  "Tig?" Her voice was low, airy. If I wasn't completely mistaken, turned on.

  "Yeah, honey?"

  She pressed back; my hands settled in the center of her back as she looked at me, eyelids heavy. "My best friend is missing."

  I felt my brows draw together slightly. "I know."

  She swallowed hard, wetting her lips slightly. "So this is really wrong."

  "What..."

  I didn't get to finish asking because her hands were sliding up my shoulders, the sides of my neck, then framing my face as she leaned forward and pressed her lips to mine.

  Kenzi, even half-sick with worry, even after what had to have been the longest day of her life, she still kissed like she lived- with every bit of herself in it. There was no hesitation as she tilted her head and pressed the kiss deeper, as her tongue moved out and claimed mine. My hands moved down her ass, sinking into the softness as she shifted until she was straddling me, pressing hard against me, her breasts crushed to my chest and through her unpadded bra, I could feel her nipples hardening with desire. Her hips sank down, pressing into my lap where my cock was already hard and straining, making her gasp and moan almost simultaneously.

  My hands sank in harder, using her ass to drag her against my cock again. Her hand left my jaw, curling into a fist and slamming down onto my shoulder on a moan. Was I maybe taking advantage of a weak moment? Probably. Should I have been the one in that highly emotionally charged situation to pull back and say she was freaking out and shouldn't be making those kinds of situations? Hell yeah. Did it make me a bit of a dick to let her fragile state allow me to fulfill something I had wanted for over a week since the second she walked her sexy ass into the office? Maybe.

  But when I pulled her hips to do another stroke and her entire goddamn body trembled... yeah, I found myself not giving a fuck.

  Maybe she would regret it.

  Maybe she would cuss me out about taking advantage.

  But those were problems I could deal with when they arose.

  Right then, well, I wasn't going to spoil a good fucking thing as her hips started moving of their own accord, riding me, grinding down hard, taking what she needed to stoke her desire.

  Was there anything hotter than a woman who took what she needed without embarrassment?

  I was pretty sure there wasn't.

  Her lips ripped from mine, her eyes opening, full of need as she did another move against me, her lips opening to let the moan slip through as her head tilted back slightly.

  And it looked a helluva lot like an invitation.

  One I was, of course, inclined to accept as I leaned forward and ran my tongue up the sensitive column of her neck, stopping to nip into her earlobe.

  And it was right about fucking then that my phone decided to start screaming again. She didn't pull away at first. She rode me a little harder, her breathing getting more shallow, getting closer to an orgasm. I wanted nothing more than to reach between us, slide my hand inside her panties, and drag one screaming out of her.

  Then the phone stopped and started again, making her let out a loud grumble as she moved away from me, taking a deep breath.

  "That might be important," she reasoned, not able to quite look at me as she tried to pull it together.

  Quite frankly, with the situation, every call was likely important. So while every ounce of me was throbbing with the need to say fuck it, grab her, and drag her into her bedroom, I took a deep breath instead, standing and ignoring the chafing feeling of my hard cock against my jeans, and went for my phone.

  It was the first of four calls and six emails I needed to look over from various sources.

  Meanwhile, Kenzi got control and slid back under her blanket, curling up on her side, not even bothering to pretend she wasn't watching me for the first hour until she finally drifted off to sleep.

  After which, I put the phone on silent, tucking it into my pocket, and going to lift her up into my arms, intent on bringing her to her bed and taking my ass back to the living room.

  Distance.

  We needed it.

  I, especially, needed it so I could keep my head in the game.

  I was almost to the hall when the door shook with what was likely meant to be a quiet knock, but given that it must have been Paine, it reverberated across the whole living space, making Kenzi grumble and turn her face into my chest.

  I walked to the door, checking the peep, then balancing her on my leg as I slid the locks, lifting her back up as Paine opened the door and moved in with a couple bags in his hands.

  He looked at me, then Kenz, seeming to pick up on maybe something deeper there, but saying nothing about it.

  "Let me go put her in bed. Then we can talk."

  Kenzi's room, as I had noticed earlier when I checked it, screamed of her- class, unabashed femininity, but an underline streamlined neatness.

  Three of the walls were a white that didn't manage to hurt the eye. But the wall behind her giant bed with a white tufted headboard and white sheets with a purple comforter, was painted a deep royal purple. The nightstands on either side were simple, minimalist, but the lights on them were glass and dainty. Her closet door was open, an impressive amount of clothing practically bursting out of it.

  There were white dressers with no adornments and then a vanity with a scalloped mirror and padded seat that had the entire surface covered in makeup, jewelry, brushes, creams, and two bottles of the perfume that always clung deliciously to her skin.

  After I set her on the bed and tucked her in, I may have let my curiosity get the better of me, walking over and picking up the bottle.

  On it, I found a label with her own damn name on it.

  No wonder it was so unique.

  She had it specially made.

  Which, given how standout she was as a woman, a person, that made perfect sense.

  Shaking my head, trying to clear it of the sentimental, absurd thoughts, I moved back into the hall, closing her door, and making my way back toward the kitchen where Paine already had coffee dripping and Chinese takeout spread over the counter.

  "What'd you find out?" I asked.

  He turned to me, exhaling hard.

  "Not a fucking thing."

  That was exactly what me, Sawyer, Brock, Barrett, Alex, and the cops had too.

  Not a fucking thing.

  SIX

  Kenzi

  It was the door knock that snapped me out of my brain which was a wholly unpleasant place to be right then. Or literally at any point during the day for the entire past week.

  A week.

  I had woken up the night after Cassie went missing with about one blissful moment where the reality had yet to set in.

  I even had that one moment to focus on another, happier, thought.

  Tig.

  Because if the way I had tossed and turned and woke up feeling completely and overwhelmingly turned on was anything to go by, I had seemed to do a complete one-eighty with regard to how I felt about him. I didn't even think about the Tims and the lack of style and the fact that he wasn't some go-getter entrepreneur like I usually went for. All I knew was he was cool under pressure; he knew his way around tools; he knew how to use his hands, and there was an attraction that I didn't understand but was strong enough to make me initiate first contact even in the midst of a completely horrible situation.

  Let's just say, I'd been kissed plenty in my life.

  I had had the fumbling, bumbling, too-wet kisses, the trying to choke you with their tongue kisses, the deep and slow and passionate ones, the hard and rough and sloppy but still sexy ones, the ones that set your panties on fire.

  You get it- a lot of kissing.

  But I had never had a kiss that from the second of impact, it created a pressure at the base of my spine that exploded outward throughout my entire body. It overtook me. That was the only way to describe it. It was something that enshrouded me entirely, blocked out the whole world outside. Hell, it blocked out the world inside as well, everything except the feelings being dragged out of me- the comfort, the needy, borderline desperate need for fulfillment, the way his hands never moved from my ass but I could already imagine them everywhere else.

  It was the kiss of a lifetime.

  Which was cheesy, completely unlike me to allow myself to even think that for a second. But it was true. There was no denying it.

  The dry-humping, well, what could be said about that? The clawing need for release was all I could focus on when my hips dropped and felt his cock- hard, straining against the jeans that did nothing to hide the fact that Tig was, well, packing.

  Like I said, though, I only got the minute. That one beautifully blank moment before reality set in, before I remembered why Tig was even in my apartment at all.

  Cassie.

  Even the thought of her name was a stabbing, burning, searing, tearing sensation through my stomach then up into my chest.

  I stumbled out of my bed, tripping over a discarded shoe beside my bed in my desperate attempt to get out into my living room to get answers.

  I found Paine and Tig there, both looking exhausted, both giving me the same defeated look.

  I didn't need to ask to know there was nothing to go on yet.

  It was the same look I got the next morning when I woke up to find Brock in my living room- Tig off on a lead, Paine needing to get some work in.

  The next morning was Paine.

  Then Sawyer.

  Brock again.

  Never Tig.

  A full week of no answers and for reasons that were never explained to me even when I demanded it, no Tig.

  As for me, I did something wholly unlike me; I retreated into myself.

  I didn't go to work. I didn't go out. I didn't even give a shit what clothes I had on my body.

  Because every single waking (and sometimes unconscious) thought was soaked in blood and misery. Every thought that crossed my mind was the horrors that Cassie was likely going through while I sat safe and sound in my apartment guarded by a revolving door of badass men.

  There was no escaping it.

  My brain was a horror movie. And not the old school kind. Mine was the new school D-rated gore-fests that spared no line of sensitivity. Because, quite frankly, the psycho that had her left very little of his intentions to the imagination.

  I felt sick every moment of the day, any kind of food turning my stomach. The times I forced it down, there was a fifty-fifty chance of it coming back up.

  Paine, Brock, and Sawyer, all men who really had too much experience with awful situations and therefore a better tolerance for them, begged, lectured, practically yelled at me to try to snap me out of it.

  Reese, being non-confrontational, watched me sideways, made me blander food, tried small encouragement.

  I should have known, though, that it wouldn't be any of them who would flip the switch back on inside for me.

  Oh, no.

  That was a job for my mother.

  My mother, Gina, was a lot of things- smart, determined, steadfast, unshakable, fashionable, beautiful, funny. She was also a human battle-ax.

  So when Reese shuffled past me, hands reaching up to tie her hair back, both of us being alone for one blissful hour because Paine had to cut out early and the boys at the PI office were busy, and she opened the door to reveal my mother, I knew I was in for it.

  There was a similarity with all of us. Our mom had green eyes too, but darker. We had similar bone structure, feminine without being too delicate. But where Reese and I were long-limbed, tall for women, big-footed, and medium-skinned, our mother was short, slight, and extremely pale.

  She had her dark hair loose, cut and styled in perfect beach waves, highlighted flawlessly around her face to soften it. Obviously on her way to work, she was dressed in black slacks, moderate heels that wouldn't kill her after an hour, and a simple white button-up blouse.

  "Mom, we weren't expecting you," Reese said, giving her a warm smile.

  "Oh, I have a book for you," she said, touching my sister's cheek. "I will drop it the next time I come over. I know it's not your cuppa, but you can add it to the library."

  Reese liked a whole heap of books, but she generally stayed clear of the dark, dirty, adrenaline-filled types my mother preferred.

  "Now," she said, slamming the door and moving in a few feet, chin angled up. She lifted a perfectly groomed brow at me. "Enough, Kenzi." At my drawn-together brows, she put her purse down and moved into the kitchen, efficiently getting to work making a pot of coffee before turning back to me. "I get it, honey. Believe me, I get it. I spent every single day of my life for ten years worried so sick to my stomach about your brother ending up with a bullet in his head or knife to the heart. That was a daily likelihood when he was running things. And then, to no less extent, when he was out, I had to worry about Enzo too. I know this is different because she didn't ask for this and I know it's worse because she's a woman. Don't think I haven't made myself sick about that fact myself. But my point is, it is similar."

  "Mom, it's..."

  "Horrible. It's disgusting. It is terrifying. And it is the most hopeless feeling in the world. I understand wanting to throw a blanket over your head and never climb back out again. I also understand how it feels bone-deep wrong for the world to keep revolving, for people to keep living their lives when something like this is going on, baby. I totally understand that. But sitting here and not eating and barely sleeping and losing weight and doing nothing but thinking awful thoughts is not helping the situation either."

  "What do you expect me to do, Ma? What if this was me? What if he had me? Would you be able to eat or sleep or go on with your life? It could have been me. If I hadn't gone to get lunch that day..."

  "Guilt isn't going to change anything either. I know you love Cass. I know you are sick to your stomach thinking about this. And I am not even here to say you shouldn't feel that way. If you didn't, I would genuinely start to worry about the kind of woman I raised. But what I am saying is, you can't live like this. You need to get up, get a shower, get some clothes on, and get back to work."

  "It's..."

  "I'm not here to hear excuses. Get your ass up, get some caffeine in your system, get some food in your stomach, and get to goddamn work. Letting your entire life that you have worked so hard for fall apart will not fix this situation. It won't bring Cassie back. If when you get home from work, you need to fall into bed and cry- do it. Set an alarm on your phone. Let yourself have a wallowing hour. Then get up again and keep moving."

  She wasn't wrong.

  That was maybe the worst part.

  There was a large percentage of me that genuinely felt like I needed to be in ratty clothes with greasy hair and a growling stomach. Because Cassie was likely worse off. Because it felt wrong not to be suffering with her.

  But there were no leads. No traces. No tips. No nothing.

  If a week went by of nothing, there likely never would be anything.

  Was I supposed to be sick forever? Was I supposed to never be able to eat again and have the food stay down? To lose my business? To make everyone think I was falling into a deep depression?

  I knew it wasn't the answer.

  So, wrong as it was going to feel at first and maybe for a long time, I needed to do exactly what she said. So while she went for mugs of coffee, I uncurled from the couch and took a shower. I couldn't quite bring myself to put any effort into much more than that, knowing it was going to feel like faking it for a long time and being wholly okay with that as I forewent makeup, let my hair air dry with some product in it to keep it tame, and slipped into simple slacks, tame heels, and a plain long-sleeve tee.

  I drank coffee.

  I ate half a bagel.

  Then I had my mother drive me to work.

  Where I found Tig waiting out front for me.

  "Baby," my mother said when I went to reach for my handle, making my head snap up to her. "That right there is a good man." That was so unexpected; I felt the words make me jerk backward like she had slapped me with them. "I know it is hard for you to believe they exist, honey. And I know I am very much at fault for that."

  That wasn't even the least bit fair for her to take that on. "Mom, that's..."

  Her hand raised, palm out. "I don't mean I created trust issues for you, Kenz. But maybe in teaching you to be so strong, so self-sufficient, I maybe neglected also to tell you that a man, a good man, can be very much worth your time, worth letting down your guards, worth making some time for. So since I haven't shown that to you, I am telling you that that fine-looking man with the giant arms and the kind eyes, he's good and he is worth your time."

 

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