Page 92 of Wicked and Claimed

“She’s convinced something terrible has happened. Which…” Kane’s jaw tightened. “She’s not wrong.”

Nash took the key, his hand trembling like the rest of his body. He had to steady himself against the doorframe. The porch light was off—of course it was. After spending last night in his arms, Haisley had raced home this morning to get ready for work, expecting to come home at the end of the day.

Just like every other victim who had disappeared from that mall.

The door swung open into shadowy darkness. Into silence usually filled with her voice, with her laughter. His knees nearly buckled. He couldn’t bring himself to flip on the lights, as if that would shine a glaring spotlight on the fact she wasn’t here. It would only make her absence more real.

Moonlight filtered through gauzy curtains, painting silvery paths across her hardwood floors. Everything sat untouched, waiting. Her morning coffee mug in the sink. A shopping list on her counter with mundane items like laundry detergent and bread.

Her scent—vanilla and something uniquely, heartbreakingly Haisley—squeezed his heart like a vise, threatening to stop it. He could barely fucking breathe.

“I’ll grab the laptop. You don’t have to do this,” Kane offered quietly from the doorway.

“No.” Nash’s voice came out raw. “I need to.”

For Haisley.

He forced himself to move through her space, cataloging details like the operative he’d been trained to be. The soft blanket draped over her reading chair. A novel, bookmark stuck halfway through. The throw pillows slightly askew on her couch. Everything looked paused, as if she’d just stepped out for a moment. Except she hadn’t.

She was gone.

A photo on her desk caught his eye—Haisley with her girl posse—Madison, Charli, and Gracelyn—at Madison’s wedding to fellow operative Matt Montgomery. Her head was thrown back in laughter. God, she looked so alive. So vibrant. Just like she’d been last night in his arms, her heart pressed against his as they’d made love in his bed. Now…

His knees nearly gave out again. He caught himself on Haisley’s desk, a sound somewhere between a growl and a sob tearing from his throat.

“Nash.” Kane’s hand landed on his shoulder. “We’re all doing everything we can to find her.”

“I’m so fucking afraid it’s already too late. I’ve been at this all day, and…” The words came out broken.

“You’re gathering evidence. You’re following the trail. We all are and?—”

“It’s not enough! Those other women… They just vanished. Like they never existed. And now Haisley… I can’t lose her again. Not like this,” he choked. Then, with a primal growl, he pounded his fist into a doorframe before shaking off the sting. “Fucking breaking down won’t bring her back.”

“Then channel that emotion,” Kane said. “Use it. We’re all behind you.”

Nash gathered the shattered pieces of himself and vowed he’d move heaven and earth—burn down the world if he had to—in order to bring her home. To do that, Haisley needed him to be the cold, calculating operative he’d been trained to be.

Sucking in a breath, he snatched up her laptop, but his gaze caught on a sticky note beside her keyboard. A reminder to add coffee creamer to her grocery list. Such a small, everyday thing. Would she ever do something that ordinary again? Ever have the freedom to?

“Let’s go.” Kane gestured him toward the door. “You’ve got a woman to save.”

With a resolute nod, Nash locked Haisley’s door, the quiet finality of the click echoing like a death knell. But he couldn’t think that way. Couldn’t let himself imagine a world without her in it.

Because if he did, he’d lose whatever control he had left. And Haisley needed him focused. Needed him whole.

Even if he felt anything but.

As he made his way back to his truck, his phone buzzed. His heart slammed into his ribs as he yanked the device from his pocket. Was it possible someone had a lead? Had somehow located Haisley?

A message from Trees flashed across his screen.

I’ve got something you need to see ASAP.

CHAPTER TWO

Somewhere in the Caribbean

Haisley’s head throbbed as consciousness slowly returned, each pulse like a hammer against her skull. Her mouth felt stuffed with cotton, her limbs heavy and uncoordinated. She pushed at the cold, hard floor until she managed to sit up, fighting a wave of dizziness as she tried to pierce her mental fog. She had to figure out what had happened and where she’d been taken.

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