Theo

“There’s a call on line one for you,” Evan says, popping his head around the office door when I walk by.

“Take a message,” I grumble, tossing my towel in the bin beside the door.

I can hear Evan arguing with whoever is on the other line. He covers the receiver with his palm and looks at me, his gray brows furrowed.

“It’s your security company. They’re saying your smoke alarms are going off. Want to know if you want them to call the fire department.”

I don’t answer, just grab my keys from the desk and race out the door, nearly knocking Moody over when he steps in front of me.

He’s behind me when I rush around the building. “What the hell’s going on?”

My fingers feel like huge slabs of meat when I try to punch in the alarm code, finally getting it on the second attempt.

As soon as I open the door, I hear the high-pitched beeping.

Something is burning. I take the stairs two at a time. My apartment door is half open, and smoke drifts like a mist along the ceiling, curling under the frame.

Logan’s cries are like a beacon. She’s in her room, tears streaming down her cheeks, eyes bright red. I scoop her up, holding her tight against my chest, and I try to calm her. But my own nerves are shot.

“Sshhhh. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Where is Mac?

I cover Logan’s ears against the continuous wail of the alarm.

“Mackenzie?” I call out, running to my bedroom. I check both bathrooms, knowing I’m not going to find her.

The alarm suddenly stops, and I hear Moody cursing from the kitchen.

He’s pulling out a pan with what looks like charred cookies, and tosses it into the sink.

“She’s gone,” I say, my voice cracking. Not wanting to believe that she’d actually take off again. But who am I kidding? Running is Mac’s specialty. Still, something just doesn’t feel right.

“Mama,” Logan cries, giving a small hiccup, then sticking her thumb in her mouth and placing her head against my chest.

“I know. We’ll find her,” I say, glancing around wildly. There’s no sign of a struggle, no sign of forced entrance. She’s just gone.

She took off. Again.

It’s the only explanation. But to leave Logan unattended…I shake my head, breathing hard. It doesn’t fit.

She was baking fucking cookies, for Christ sake.

The need to curse, scream, and break something rages through me. The only thing that keeps me sane is the small person in my arms.

“We need to call the police,” Moody says, grabbing the phone from its charger.

“And tell them what?” I say a little too forcefully, making Logan whimper. I lower my voice, keeping it steady when I continue. “We don’t know if she ran or if…”

“Her shoes,” Moody says, walking past me toward the front hall.

“What?”

“Her shoes are still here,” he says, pointing at the worn-out runners set against the wall.

“If she didn’t take off, then where the hell is she?” I grit out between clenched teeth.

The thought that Stefano somehow got to her makes every shred of common sense leave my head. I’ll kill the fucker with my bare hands.

A dark look crosses Moody’s face, and my own dread is mirrored there. I don’t need him to speak to know what he’s thinking.

“He wants money,” I say, remembering the text. I storm through the apartment, grabbing Logan’s overnight bag and tossing items into it while she clings to me. I pull out my phone, both fearing and hoping for something, anything. “If he has her, he’ll call or text.”

“We need to go to the police,” Moody repeats.

I know he’s right, but until we have proof, or at least know Stefano’s terms and conditions, I’m worried about making any quick decisions. I’m not taking chances. Not with Mac’s life.

“The guy is a certified nut job. If he thinks we’ve called the police, there’s no telling what he’ll do to her.”

“What do we do then?”

“We wait.” I cover Logan’s ears and sneer. “Then, I kill the bastard.”