by T L Swan
I glance over to Emily, and she hunches her shoulders, as if excited.
Sebastian glances over and sees Jameson talking to some men and walks up and grabs him in a headlock from behind. They laugh loudly. “Back in a minute,” Tristan whispers, and he and Spencer join them.
The four men laugh as they talk, and I watch them for a moment. “Who are they?” I ask.
“They are the naughtiest men in all of England,” Emily whispers. “And the most gorgeous.”
“God,” I whisper as I watch them. I have never seen such handsome men all in one place. All of them are freaking delicious. “You’re not wrong.”
“Spencer Jones is the world’s biggest player.”
“He’s the blond?” I ask.
“That’s him. Ridiculously good looking, isn’t he?”
“The other one is more gorgeous. What’s his name again?” I ask.
“Sebastian Garcia. His marriage just broke up recently.”
“Really? He’s a player too?” I frown.
“No, his wife slept with their gardener.”
“What?” I frown as I look at the beautiful man. He’s tall, dark, and European. “Is she mad?” I gasp.
“Apparently.” She shrugs. “Must be absolutely off her fucking tree,” she mutters.
I giggle, and Emily smiles and clinks her glass with mine. “It’s so good to finally meet you,” she whispers as she again takes my hand in hers.
“Oh, thanks.” I smile. “Thank God you’re normal. I thought you were going to be a supermodel taking selfies all night.”
She bursts out laughing. “Ha. No, that would be Tristan’s ex-girlfriends.”
I cringe. “I don’t really fit the mold, do I?”
“Thankfully not.” She laughs.
I glance over and into the gaze of Tristan in his black dinner suit. His dark wavy hair and square jaw light up the room. He gives me a slow, sexy smile and a wink, and my heart somersaults in my chest.
I’m feeling like the luckiest girl in the world tonight.
He loves me.
Tristan’s fingers trail a circle on my bare shoulder as I sit at the table and talk to Emily. It’s been a great night filled with laughter, handsome men, and intelligent conversation.
Not at all what I expected.
From the corner of my eye I can see Elizabeth watching the two of us together. She hasn’t had to look very hard—Tristan has been all over me all night. He’s most definitely not shy with affection.
“The boys are going to a bar for a few drinks. Do you want to go?” Tristan leans in and whispers.
“Are you going?” I ask as I turn to Emily.
“Apparently.” She smirks into her wineglass. “I’ve had enough champagne for a lifetime . . . but whatever.”
“Me too.” I giggle, but it will be nice to get to know everyone in a not-so-formal setting. “Okay, sure, sounds good.”
We say our goodbyes, and twenty minutes later I find myself outside and waiting on the curb for a limo with Emily, the four Miles brothers, and Spencer Jones.
Everybody has had too much to drink, and we are cackling like schoolgirls. These guys are hilarious.
“Where the fuck is Seb?” Spencer frowns, looking around the crowd as people pour out of the function center.
“He’s with two girls inside,” Elliot replies as he types a message to someone on his phone.
“Jesus Christ,” Spencer whispers. “If he doesn’t hurry, we’re leaving without him.”
“I’m pretty sure he doesn’t give a fuck,” Elliot replies flatly.
Tristan takes his jacket off and puts it around my shoulders. He pulls me into his arms and smiles down at me. I have the urge to kiss him, but I won’t . . . everyone is here. He leans down and kisses me anyway, and I smile against his lips. He knows what I want.
Sebastian walks out with a gorgeous girl on each arm. “The girls are coming with us,” he announces.
“Hi, girls.” Everyone laughs.
“What’s your name?” Spencer asks the blonde as he picks up her hand and kisses it.
“Fuck off. She’s with me,” Sebastian says.
Spencer shrugs and turns to the brunette. “So . . . what’s your name?”
“Also with me,” Sebastian replies deadpan.
“Greedy prick,” Spencer snaps as he drops her hand like a hot potato.
“Get your own.” Sebastian winks to him.
We all laugh, and the girls cuddle closer into Sebastian. What the hell . . . two women?
Jeez.
I glance over to see Elliot and Christopher talking to a group of girls in the cab line. The women are all laughing on cue as the boys flirt up a storm. I imagine what these boys are like when they are out on the town together.
I wonder if Tristan has had two women before . . . of course he has. All these men have. Rich, funny, gorgeous, and intelligent.
The jackpot of eligible bachelors.
Tristan smiles goofily down at me and kisses me again. He really is quite tipsy.
And gorgeous.
Two limousines pull up, and Jameson opens the door. “Elliot, Christopher,” he calls as he helps Emily into the car. We all climb in, and Sebastian and Spencer and the girls climb into the car behind us.
“Club 42, please,” Tristan says.
“Sure thing.” The driver smiles as he pulls out into the traffic. The boys are loud and joking, and laughter is filling the car.
The car accelerates, and I smile as I get a rush of adrenaline.
This is a fun night.
I giggle as I watch Tristan and Christopher together. They’re like two peas in a pod.
They laugh at the same things, share private jokes, and finish each other’s sentences. Similar looking, almost identical personalities, and nowhere near what I thought they were. Warm and friendly, not a cold soul sucker in sight.
From what I can tell, Elliot and Jameson are similar and look alike too.
It’s late. Last time I looked, it was four o’clock in the morning, and we are now collectively drunk. We’re in a small nightclub kind of bar, and the boys must come here a lot because they know all the staff and the DJ.
There aren’t a lot of people left, and they’ve just called last drinks. I’ve had the best night ever. Emily and I have gotten on like a house on fire, and the boys are everything I never expected.
Kind and funny. Sarcastic like Tris, but lovely just the same.
“As I play the final song for the night,” the DJ says into the mic, “with the Miles boys in the house, I had to play their anthem. ‘Freak Me’ by Silk.” A tantric beat rings out.
Freak me, baby (ah, yeah)
Freak me, baby (mm, just like that)
Freak me, baby (ah, yeah)
The boys all laugh out loud and cheer. I’m instantly dragged to the dance floor, and the boys all begin to dance as if it’s the best song in the world.
Tristan pushes me out and then twirls me. “What is this song?” I laugh out loud as I am bounced back to his body with force.
He smiles down at me as he moves us to the beat. “This was our boarding school anthem.” He pushes me out again and then spins me and brings me back to him, and I can’t contain my laughter. “We played this song in our dorm every day for our entire schooling life. We all know it word for word.”
I giggle and look around, and I see a very drunk Jameson dirty dancing with Emily as he sings to her. Elliot and Christopher have found girls somewhere and are singing to them. Sebastian is dirty dancing with his two girls, and Spencer has jumped up onstage and has dragged a waitress with him. They are slow dancing to the music. I listen to the words and laugh out loud as Tristan twirls me around.
Let me lick you up and down till you say stop
Let me play with your body, baby, make you real hot
Let me do all the things you want me to do
“This is the song you sang while at school?” I giggle. Sex maniacs, the lot of them.
“
Yep.” Tristan smiles down at me.
“Your favorite song was about licking women up and down?” I ask in horror.
“One hundred percent.” He pushes me out and spins me hard, and I laugh out loud. He rocks us side to side as he holds my hand in his. “Still is.” He leans down and kisses me softly, and his eyes twinkle with a certain something. “Speaking of which, let’s go home, Anderson.”
I smile up at the beautiful man in front of me. “I thought you’d never ask.”
I hear a vibration on the side table, and I frown.
Bzzz . . . bzzz . . . bzzz.
Tristan lets out a deep sigh. “Who the fuck’s that?” he mumbles.
It stops, and we both relax.
It starts again.
Bzzz . . . bzzz . . . bzzz.
Tristan sits up onto his elbow and leans over to get my phone. He fumbles and drops it, and it slips between the bed and the side table. “Fuck off,” he whispers.
My head begins to thump. “Oh God,” I whimper. “What the fuck happened last night?”
The phone continues to ring, and Tristan puts the back of his forearm over his eyes. “Fuck off . . . whoever you are,” he moans.
I wake properly and sit up. Shit. “Tris,” I say. “The kids.”
“Jesus.” He stands and feels around for the missing phone. He’s naked, and his hair is standing on end. I smile as I watch him. What a sight for sore eyes.
We can still hear my phone vibrating from its unknown location. He reaches in and pulls it out and holds it in the air. “Found the fucker.” He frowns at the screen as he reads it, and then his face drops. “It’s Barb.” He passes it over.
“Hello,” I answer. “What’s wrong?”
“Hi, Claire.”
“What is it?” My heart begins to beat faster.
“Harry’s missing.”
“What?”
“I got up to go to the bathroom just after three a.m. and stuck my head in to check on him, and he wasn’t in bed.”
I sit up in a rush. “What do you mean?”
“He snuck out, Claire, and he hasn’t come back.”
I begin to hear my heartbeat in my ears. “Why didn’t you call me?” I stammer.
“I did, but you haven’t been answering.”
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”
“We’ve looked everywhere and contacted all of his friends. We thought he would come back before we were supposed to wake up so he wouldn’t get caught, but nobody has seen him.”
My heart drops.
“What?” Tristan whispers.
“Harry’s missing.”
He screws up his face. “Huh?”
“I’m on my way.” I hang up and jump out of bed.
Chapter 21
The hour-long car trip to Long Island has been a living hell. Tristan is quiet and has his hand protectively on my leg, and I’m staring out the window, trying to hold back tears. I’ve called Harrison no fewer than a hundred times, and I know his phone is probably about to go dead. Fletcher and his friends are all out looking for him. No sign.
“He’ll be fine,” Tris whispers.
“Where could he be?” I whisper. My eyes fill with tears as I lose the ability to hold it in any longer.
“Baby.” Tristan puts his arm around me and pulls me close. “I’ll find him. I promise you,” he whispers into my hair. “I am going to kill him when I find him . . . but I will find him, regardless.”
We pull onto my street, and I see my friends’ and parents’ cars all at my house. My heart drops in my chest. I shouldn’t have gone last night. The car stops. “Thank you,” I cry. I get out and run inside, and my mother’s scared eyes meet mine.
“Mom,” I whisper. “Where is he?”
“I don’t know, love. We’ve looked everywhere.”
I screw up my face in tears. “Oh my God.” She pulls me into a hug, and the door bangs behind us. I turn to see Tristan awkwardly standing in the foyer, unsure what to do.
“Oh, Mom and Dad, this is Tristan.”
Tristan smiles and shakes their hands. “Hello, nice to meet you.”
“I’m going to kill that kid when I find him,” my dad murmurs.
Tristan raises his eyebrows, and I know he’s thinking get in line. “I’m going to call Fletch and see where he is,” Tristan says.
“Okay.”
He disappears out the front door.
“I’m going to call the police,” I stammer.
“Good idea,” Mom says.
“He’ll be somewhere asleep, Claire,” my dad reassures me. “Just give it another hour.”
“He’s here,” Tristan calls.
“What?” I stammer as I run out onto the porch.
Tristan points, and we see Harrison pushing his bike up the street. It looks like it has a flat tire or something. He’s dirty and wet and has a backpack on his back. He looks like he’s been through a war.
I drop my head in relief, and then a sudden surge of anger rages through me like a rapid. I march down the front yard until I get to him. “Where have you been?” I cry.
He rolls his eyes.
“Why weren’t you answering your phone?”
“I lost it,” he barks with attitude.
“Where were you?”
“Out!” he yells.
“You . . . selfish little shit.” Something snaps inside of me. “You are grounded!” I scream as I lose all of my control. “Get in that house, and do not come out of your bedroom ever again,” I cry. I push his back to try to make him get there faster. At least when he’s in there, I know he’s safe. I can protect him from himself.
“Typical,” he mutters under his breath as he storms past me.
“Harrison Anderson, you are in so much trouble!” I yell after him. “You’ve lost it—the phone, the internet. Every damn thing you own . . . is gone.”
“I hate you.” He storms inside and marches up the stairs. “I hate you all!” he yells. His bedroom door slams shut.
Tears roll down my face, and I’m shaking in anger. I am furious . . . beyond furious.
Fuming.
“We’ll get going, love.” Mom smiles sadly as she rubs my arm. “Glad he’s home safe. Good luck.” They turn to Tristan. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too.” He forces a smile, and they leave.
I begin to pace back and forth while I wring my hands. “What am I going to do with this fucking kid, Tristan?” I cry. “He’s out of control and doesn’t even care.”
Tristan exhales heavily. “I’ll go call Fletcher, let him know he’s here.” He disappears out the front door.
Tristan
I dial Fletcher’s number. “Hey, Tris.”
“Hey, buddy, he’s home,” I say.
“Are you kidding me?” he growls. “I’ve been riding around all night looking for him. I’m going to kill him.”
“Yeah, I know. Thanks. Hey . . . your mom is freaking out. Can you come home?”
“On my way.”
I hang up, exhale heavily, and look out over the street. Where was he? I glance down and see his dirty backpack dumped next to the door, and I pick it up and go through it. Everything is sopping wet. Where the fuck was he? Did it rain here overnight? A sweater, a bottle of water, some wrappers from chocolate. I undo the zipper of the side pocket and pull out a crumpled, wet packet of cigars.
What?
I read the label. Not just any cigars—expensive ones.
Where the fuck did he get the money for these?
He smokes?
Jesus, what next?
He said he lost his phone. Is that a lie too, or did it just get wet? I dial his number again. “Hello,” a woman answers.
I frown, surprised. “Hello, I . . .” I hesitate, unsure what to say. “You found my phone?”
“Yes, dear,” the woman replies. She sounds elderly.
“Thank you so much.” I hesitate. “It’s actually a friend’s phone. Can I come pick it up?”
“Of
course. I am at Sixty Napier Street.”
“Whereabouts is that?”
“Suffolk County.”
I screw up my face. Suffolk County . . . that’s at least fifteen miles from here. “Where did you find it?” I ask.
“On the street, in the gutter, just half an hour ago.”
“Was it raining there last night?”
“Yes, poured all night. Luckily the phone was in the ziplock bag.”
What?
This isn’t making any sense at all. “Okay, see you soon.” I hang up, scribble the address down, and walk inside to Claire. “I’m just going to the grocery store. I’ll need to take your car. Do you want anything?”
“No, thanks.” She sighs heavily, as if she has the weight of the world on her shoulders.
I take her into my arms and softly kiss her. “He’s home now, babe. You can relax.” I brush the hair back from her face.
She smiles up at me. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” Feels good hearing that. I smile and kiss her again. “Back soon.”
Half an hour later I pull up to the address and knock on the front door. “Hello,” the lady answers.
“Hi, I’m here for the phone. Thank you so much for answering my call.”
“Oh, that’s okay, dear.” She smiles warmly. “I’ll just get it.” She disappears inside and then returns and hands it over. I stare at the phone in my hand. Carefully placed in a ziplock bag.
“Where did you find it?” I ask.
“Up on the corner of Elm and Second.”
“Okay, thanks. I really appreciate it.” I walk out and get into my car and put the street names into the GPS.
What are you up to, Wizard?
I pull the car up slowly at the corner of Elm and Second and stare at the huge black metal gates in front of me and read the sign.
SUFFOLK COUNTY CEMETERY
My heart drops. There’s only one person I know who may be here.
Wade Anderson.
He was coming to see his dad.
Sadness fills me as the pieces of the puzzle click into place.
With a heavy heart, I turn the car on and do a U-turn. I need to get back.
It’s just around six o’clock, and I finish up the dinner I’ve cooked for us—spaghetti bolognese. I need some carbs before I curl up and die. Claire fell asleep on the couch watching a movie, and Patrick and Fletcher are sitting on the bench talking to me.
