Page 43 of Devotion

“Caleb, where is the scar on your chest?”

Chapter

Fifteen

CALEB

“Hi, you’ve reached Sunday. Can’t come to the phone right now?—”

“Cause she’s busy with Jake!”

“—but leave me a message, and I’ll call you back as soon as I can. Kingston, stop it...”

Sunday’s laughter-filled voice and hushed admonishment normally would’ve made me smile. Not today. Not this time. I didn’t leave a message, instead opting to toss my phone on the desk and growl in pure frustration. Four calls unanswered. Three messages with no response. I’d even sent her fecking text messages. I didn’t text. But what else was I to do? My wife was ignoring me. Was this some sort of punishment for being away from her? Ever since New Year’s Eve, she’d been curiously silent.

Dragging my fingers through my hair, I let out another snarl and reached for my phone, this time selecting Kingston from my contacts and listening to the ceaseless rings with mounting tension.

“Congratulations, you’ve found me. You’re welcome, honestly. I’m pretty fucking awesome.I’m so awesome, in fact, I’m too busy to answer your call, so leave your name and number?—”

I used the trick Sunday had taught me and hit the keypad to bypass the rest of his inane message.

“Mr. Farrell, where the bleeding hell is everyone? I’ve given you all time and trusted you’d sort out this thing with the pack, but it’s going on four days with no contact, and if a hair on my wife’s head is harmed, trust that you and the others will repay it tenfold when I return.”

This time I threw my phone across the room.

Was I a fool for being so worried? It had only been four days. Surely a calamity hadn’t befallen them.

Then again, this was Sunday. Trouble found her wherever she went.

Case in point, that gala we weren’t even supposed to attend. Somehow we’d gotten caught up in things, and I’d ended up playing bloodhound for Tor’s new friends.

Pressing the heel of my palm to my chest, I forced myself to take slow, deep breaths. My heart was racing, and a pit seemed to open in my gut. Everything felt wrong.

Blurring to my phone in the corner of the room, I picked up the device and turned it over. The screen was cracked, but it still worked. Without another thought, I dialed Moira, praying she’d answer.

“Well, slap my ass and call me Sunday. Daddy G, I never thought I’d live to see the day your name brightened my phone screen. What’s goin’ on?”

“Something’s wrong. I need you to get me back home as quick as you can, Ms. Belladonna.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s Mrs. now, since I’m a married woman and all?—”

“Not the time, Moira. Didn’t you hear what I said?”

“Oh, somebody’s grumpy. Is this what happens when you stop getting it on the regular?”

I growled at her.

“Sorry, sorry. Don’t poke the priest. Okay. It’s a crisis. What else is new? I’m going to start telling you guys to take a number. I can only save so many days at once.”

“What?”

“Never mind. So you want me to send you home? Can do, but?—”

“But what?”

“But it’s going to take me some time. I had to make a fresh batch of balls. They’ve been going like hotcakes recently.”

“How long? I don’t know how much time we have. I feel... wrong.”

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