THE PROSPECT: CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

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Kiddo

Tricia had given me the silent treatment for the last couple of days since our talk in the garage. So on Friday, the night that was supposed to be her concert, I'd planned a special date night. I'd made reservations at her favorite restaurant.

A lame consolation prize, I know. But I was working on a plan so she could travel to these concerts with Bandit or some of our other members around. Arranging for her to have bodyguards. While I'd prefer it to be me on the road with her, it wasn't an option right now. Not until after my trial.

I'd just about worked out the details with Rig and Bandit last night and had it all arranged for her to begin touring in the next week or so... even though the pups and I were going to miss her like crazy.

I bent down, retrieving the three leashes of our dogs and walked them out of their pen, outside to do their business before dropping them off in my apartment.

It was almost seven o'clock and Tricia still wasn't home.

Not totally unsurprising since the cafe closes around six or seven most nights. But she worked the opening shift this morning, which meant she should have been done by four at the latest.

I texted her, asking what time she'd be home, then gave it another thirty minutes and busied myself around the house—filled the dog's water bowls with fresh water. Gave them some kibble.

Still no response.

This was bullshit.

I was all about giving her the space she needed, but general common courtesy and texting me back wasn't too much to ask, was it? Even if she was pissed at me.

Plus, we were going to miss our eight p.m. reservation if we didn't leave in five minutes.

I grabbed my wallet and keys, then paused to give Mama and the pups a quick scratch at their ears before I made my way to the cafe.

I barged in, despite the closed sign swinging in the window. Bandit sat in the corner, reading. Priya hardly blinked an eye at my loud entrance.

"Where the fuck is she?"

It wasn't until Priya jerked her head toward the basement door that I heard the music drifting up through the floorboards. Tricia's music.

Bandit hardly looked up from the magazine. "Doing inventory in the basement."

"Then why the fuck are you up here?"

Priya planted a hand on her hip. "Because I told him it wasn't a good idea. Inventory is supposed to be employees only. And it can take hours. Days sometimes."

I ignored Priya's attitude. I was going to retrieve my old lady and take her ass to a fancy fucking dinner and beg for her forgiveness.

And begging was not something I was known for.

I stalked toward the basement door and yanked it open with so much force that it slammed against the wall behind it. "Tricia!" I barked.

No answer. Just the blast of music.

With a growl, I descended the dark steps.

I was met with must and cardboard boxes of coffee and tshirts. A dark, dank basement. Blaring music.

But no Tricia.

Fucking hell.

Her phone sat plugged in on a table in the corner near the bluetooth speakers. I yanked it from the cord and hit pause on the music.

Beside her phone was a note addressed to me.

Kiddo,

I had to go. I'm asking for your understanding...

Not your forgiveness.

Love you,

Tricia

The note crumpled in my fist.

She was gone. She was fucking gone. I'd asked her to give me a little time... to trust me...

And she went anyway.

Putting us both in danger.

And she didn't even have her fucking phone to call for help or for us to track her if she got into trouble.

Don't blame her, Sam's voice echoed in my head. You should have known you couldn't force her to stay.

He was right. It wasn't her fault. I put her in this situation. I got her knotted up in this fucking mess where she gave a false statement to the cops. Because of me she was going to perjure herself. And because of me, Chiccarini had put a target on her back.

I took the steps two at a time back upstairs.

Bandit looked up at me, startled as I tossed my apartment keys at him and roared, "Take care of Mama and the pups for me."

He caught the keys swiftly in one hand. "What? Where you going?"

"Tricia's gone and I gotta go to Jersey to make sure she's okay."

"But you can't leave the state—"

"I fucking know that. As long as I'm back by tomorrow, maybe no one has to know."

Behind the counter, Priya busied herself with closing duty tasks. I narrowed my eyes at her.

She knew.

She knew. And she helped Tricia get out of here... there wasn't a doubt in my mind. Because there was no shock on her face at my announcement.

I'd deal with Priya later. For now, I needed to get to Jersey as fast as possible and save my girl.

"Text me the location of Tricia's concert! It's in Jersey somewhere."

"Wait!" Bandit was on his feet, shoving a burner phone into my hand. "Use this instead and leave your phone with me so they can't track your location. And take my motorcycle. You'll get there faster if you can weave through the Jersey traffic. Plus the helmet will shield your face from traffic cameras."

Fuck, he thought of everything. Bandit wasn't off my shit list yet for letting Tricia slip through his fingers, but it was a start.

I grabbed his keys from his hand and tossed him my phone before running for the door.

"And for the love of God, don't speed and get pulled over by a cop!" he shouted after me as I took off toward where his BMW Motorrad was parked. I was more of a Harley guy myself, but this would do. And it wasn't registered to my name if cops decided to run plates.

I launched myself over the bike and kicked it to life, the engine roaring in my ears as I yanked a helmet overhead.

I pulled Tricia's phone from my pocket and opened up Jenna's text thread, forcing myself not to read it because it was obvious who helped her set up this fucking little adventure.

Instead, I sent her a text from Tricia's phone.

I'm on my way...

you know who this is.

And for the love of God, tell Tricia not to go anywhere ALONE. Not even the bathroom. Whether or not she accepts it, she is in danger.

Then, zipping up the phones and wallet into my pocket, I took off to get my old lady once and for all.

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