Page 45 of A Knotty Road Trip

Bringing my fingers out so I can see what it is, my stomach twists. Blood? “Belle,” I groan, and Tate freezes.

“Belle did this?” he shouts, and I wince, shaking my head a little.

“No, someone came up to us and knocked her out, then hit me. I think he was familiar, but I can’t remember. He took her, Tate.”

“Yeah, I'm not so sure about that, baby. Her things are missing from the car. That was the first place Angel checked when we couldn’t find you guys. Her bags are gone and all of her blankets. It’s like she was trying to remove every sign that she was even here.”

“No, that’s not right,” I groan, then look around me. “Where the fuck am I?” I’m in a dark hallway, on the floor, but it doesn’t look familiar.

“It’s the storage area of the restaurant. We have been looking for you for three hours, Beck. Losing our fucking minds… and we had to call the cops, so I’m sure we will be all over the media soon.” Angel has the decency to wince, but I would have done the same thing.

“It’s okay. I will handle it, but first we need to get back to the car. I’ll need my laptop. I can track Belle,” I mumble, and Tate barks out a laugh, shaking his head.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from our little hacker,” he says, then helps me onto my feet. I’m not stable by any means, and I need to lean on him. Angel comes to my other side and helps as we escape out a side door.

Ken runs ahead to start the car, then inform the police that I was found. The parking lot is a sea of blue and red and fuck, yep, theres the media. They are going to eat this shit up. I’m surprised Tate’s dad isn’t calling yet.

As we reach the car, I instantly smell it before the door is opened. “Someone used descenting spray. The whole car reeks of it,” I say, then cough, and Tate looks murderous.

“Why would they do this? Who would do this?” I climb in and grab my bag, but my laptop is missing.

“They took my backpack. I need to go to a Best Buy or something right now. I can’t track her without my laptop, or at least a tablet.”

“So she’s not only a little heartbreaking omega, she’s a thief,” Tate growls, and Angel looks heartbroken. He’s shaking his head, but the evidence isn’t helping things.

“I still think someone took her. Someone we know, but I can’t remember. It’s just a feeling,” I mutter, resting my head against the leather seat, trying to think.

Tate shouts next to me, and I jump. “Where the fuck is Rich? You don’t think…”

“No, he would never hurt me. He’s our friend, and your bodyguard. Call him. I’m sure he’s just delayed,” I mutter, and Angel pulls out his phone. I notice he’s changed his home screen to a photo of him and Belle.

Fuck. Please, baby, please don’t tell me you betrayed us.

ANGEL

I continue to call Rich for the next day and a half, but it’s all the same. His voicemail. I am so sick of hearing his voice, and now it’s filled with messages of me shouting, pleading, and trying to reason with him.

Tate is pissed, and Beck is beside himself. After we cleaned up his cut, Ken took us to a mall, but the stores were closed for the night. We haven’t been able to replace his stolen electronics.

A lot of stores are closed for the holidays. Which makes sense, but this is bullshit. Why would Rich do this? If he is responsible… I refuse to think Belle left us without even a goodbye, or a note.

She had to know how much I was falling for her. She’s everything I never knew I needed in an omega, and she’s mine. Scent match or not. I am hers.

Ken pulls over, and he looks awful. His skin is pale, and he has dark shadows under his eyes. Rich was supposed to give him a break, but instead we’ve been racing to LA. I have a feeling that’s where we will find my Vixen.

“Guys, I’m sorry, but I can’t keep going. My eyes are closing, and I don’t want to kill anyone.”

“I do. I want to beat Rich to a bloody pulp and then if he’s still breathing, burn him alive,” I growl, and Tate scoffs. Beck doesn’t even react.

“Ken, can you get us to the next airport? My dad said our tour bus is waiting in Arizona. We will just fly there.”

“No, I’m not going to Arizona. Let’s just fly to LA. Get this shit trip over with,” Beck mutters, and I have to agree with him. This trip started off amazing, but now we are all in a Hell of someone else’s making.

“Yeah, plus I have my tablet at home. We can finally track her,” Tate grunts, and I am ready to beat his ass.

“She didn’t leave us, Tate, so drop the fucking attitude.”

Ken yawns, cracks another energy drink, then continues driving us. “After I drop you off, I am getting a hotel room, but I’ll continue the drive tomorrow,” he says, and I feel bad.

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