Page 88 of A Better Place

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

James

“What’s up, man?” I ask Will as I watch Carly walk into the restroom, not being able to tear my eyes away from her ass. She looks so damn gorgeous, her skin flushed from shooting… and our other extracurricular activity. Several times throughout the past hour I had to seriously wonder if I was going to embarrass myself in front of her. I’ve never readjusted myself so much in my life.

“I take it the date is going well?” he asks, a smirk covering his face.

“Oh yeah,” I reply.

“Hey, I need to ask you something,” he says, his voice suddenly low and serious.

The tone of his voice sets me on edge immediately, and I stand straighter. “Uh-oh.”

“I don’t know if it’s anything, but I want you to know.”

“There really is an uh-oh?”

He shrugs. “‘Fraid so, man. I guess I don’t know for certain, but I think you need to know.”

“What’s up, man? You’re kind of freaking me out.”

He leans his elbows on the countertop and speaks lowly. “Sorry. Okay, so the other night I was out with Tate and our wives at Red Sam’s, that bar and grill a few towns over. There was this guy in there. He was acting like a total ass. The kind of punk that not only looks like a complete douche but behaves like one as well? Like he peaked in high school, but he’s the only one that doesn’t know. Anyway, he kept talking about this wife who kidnapped his kid, which I’m still confused about. How she was nothing without him. She was this total waste. I didn’t really know what to think about it all. But the way he talked, it just seemed like a bunch of bullshit, you know? We tried to ignore him, but the guy just wouldn’t shut up. Then he pulled out this picture and started passing it around. Asking if anyone had seen her and his kid. Tate and I ignored him, but then he walked up to our booth and slammed the picture down on the table.”

“Get to the point, man,” I tell him, my heart threatening to jump through my throat. I stuff my hands in my jeans pockets to stop them from shaking.

“I can’t be sure because I didn’t look that close, but Tate…”

“Tate what?”

“Tate told him he didn’t know her. Had never seen her. But I could tell that wasn’t exactly the truth. He took one look at the picture, and his eyes just… shifted. I don’t know, man. I’ve been close with him for a lot of years. I know him well, and what he saw when he looked at the picture and back to this guy who was rambling to us about a whole lotta shit that didn’t make a damn bit of sense, it gave him enough pause to not dismiss it.”

“Was it…” I trail off, not even wanting to complete the sentence.

He nods his head once and shifts his eyes over to the restroom door to make sure it’s still closed. “It was. It was definitely Carly. I called Tate while you guys were in back. I knew there was something familiar about her. but I couldn’t place it. I asked him if he remembered the guy and the picture, and he said, ‘What the fuck happened,’ simple as that.” Will shakes his head, his arms stretched wide against the countertop of his desk. He lowers his voice before continuing. “It was like he had been waiting for something to come of that guy walking around with the picture he had been carrying.”

I scrub my hand over my face in frustration. “I knew it. Dammit! I knew it was something…” I begin to pace in front of him. “She ran. She didn’t kidnap her kid, Will. I know that. She ran from some asshat who caused enough trauma in their lives that they ran, never looked back. Jack? Her kid… he’s sixteen now. He was scared enough from whatever happened in their past that he took her to Tate’s gym to learn self-defense.”

“Yeah, he kind of mentioned that. I didn’t realize Jack was her kid. He’s a bud to my son. And Tate… he didn’t go into detail. Doesn’t sound like he knows everything either. But James, man. This dude? He’s not here searching for her to give her some lost mail. He’s definitely not fucking around. He’s trouble.”

“Fu-u-uck.” I utter a word that rarely escapes my lips. “Dammit! Son of a bitch!” I pace in front of the counter like a caged tiger, feeling like my world may implode at any moment.

“That about sums it up,” he says.

I stop pacing and turn to face him, my voice still quiet, much to my own amazement. I place my hands on my hips and take a couple deep breaths, praying it will calm my racing heart. “Don’t tell Carly, you hear me? After we leave, call Tate. Tell him that I’ll get in touch with him tomorrow. I don’t want her worrying… or running away.”

“Got it.”

“You get a name out of him?”

“Tate remembered. Said his name was Vince Taylor.”

“Taylor? Not Hanson?”

“Nope. You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“That she left, changed her name, hoping to never be found?”

“Yup.”

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