“How do you not have your husband’s phone number?” Asher drones as he paces back and forth.

“Don’t give her shit right now,” Breslin scolds. “Can’t you see she’s upset?”

“Well, I’m upset, too,” he booms. “And maybe if Kit would start talking and tell me what my brother's been up to, we could find him.”

Landon puts what looks like a cup of tea down in front of me. “Quit riding her. I’m sure if she knew something important, she’d tell us.”

Breslin rubs my back. “You keep staring at your phone, honey. Does Preston have your number?”

I shake my head.

Even if he did, I doubt he’d use it.

An uneasy feeling settles over me when I look out the window and notice the sun is rising. Between the four of us, we’ve spent the better part of the night checking every casino, every airport, and every hotel.

Somewhere between desperate and hopeless, I realized Juan was still in Vegas. With no other options left, I begged him to go to Preston’s motel and call me when he got there.

That was a little over an hour ago, though and I haven't heard from him since.

“It's not my fault he left. It's yours.”

It’s the first words I’ve spoken since we came back.

A shard of guilt pricks me for blaming him, but I'm getting tired of Asher interrogating me.

I refuse to betray Preston and tell his brother things he doesn’t want him to know.

I made a promise…a vow.

Asher rakes a hand over his scalp. “Look, I’m sorry for being a douche.” His face goes slack. “I just don't want to see my brother in a body bag because you don’t want to tell me what he’s been up to."

An ugly feeling churns my insides and the room spins. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Breslin says. “I think we’re all forgetting it’s Preston. Him skipping town is nothing new.”

When my eyes narrow, she adds, “I'm not trying to be insensitive, but there's no denying things are much better when he's not around.”

Not for me.

Her eyes drift to Asher. “Preston's...he's a lot to handle. Not to mention dangerous, selfish, reckless—”

“He's my friend.”

I look at Landon because he’s the only other person in the world who will understand. “I wouldn't be standing here if it weren't for Landon and him.”

There were two heroes in the cafeteria that day…and Preston was one of them.

He was mine.

He didn’t have to trade places with me when Kyle held me at gunpoint. And he didn’t have to continue dragging me into an elevator while I fought him and almost ruined his only chance at survival.

But he did.

Landon’s expression turns serious, like he’s replaying that exact moment in his head like I am. “Kit's right.” He rubs Asher's shoulder. “It's obvious the guy is going through some shit. I think we should find him and let him know he has people in his corner.” Asher gives his hand a gentle squeeze.

Breslin's face turns to stone. “I don't—”

“He saved Kit, Bre,” Landon whispers as his gaze bounces between Asher and me. “He's family.”

I give him a grateful smile. If there’s one person who can tame Breslin’s stubbornness and get through to her…it’s Landon.

Breslin nods slowly and ruffles my hair. “Okay, we’ll keep looking.” Her other hand cups Asher’s cheek. “We won’t stop until we find him.”

Landon pulls out a small notebook and takes a seat beside Asher. “He doesn’t have a car and I’m assuming he doesn’t have much money. Therefore, how far could he have really gone?”

Asher turns peaked. “He has a little over nine hundred. Give or take.”

Landon stops writing. “How do you know?”

Crossing my arms, I look at Asher. “Because your boyfriend not only told his brother he was a screw-up, he bet him he’d fuck up my life in the next six months. And then—he threw money in his face.”

I don’t bother holding back the venom in my voice. It was a shit thing to do.

“That was cold," Breslin says at the same time Landon bites out, “What the hell is the matter with you?”

Asher points to the bruise on his cheek. “That was after I apologized to him and he punched me.” He holds up a finger. “Not to mention, threatened to break my arms and ruin my career.”

“He did what?” Landon and Breslin yell.

Asher juts his chin at me. “And accused me of trying to sleep with Kit.”

Goddammit, Preston. You sure don’t make it easy for a girl to defend you.

I wave a hand. “He didn’t mean it. He was upset because Asher barged in unannounced and riled him up.” When they all make a face, I stab the counter with my finger. “Can we focus on what’s important? Like finding Preston.”

Breslin clacks her teeth so hard I’m surprised a few don’t break. She takes a sip of her coffee and turns to me. “I’m assuming he’s been in Vegas gambling all this time, right?”

Dread coils my insides and I clamp my mouth shut, just like I always do whenever they ask me a direct question about Preston.

I can tell their patience with me is starting to wear thin. Even Landon looks mildly annoyed with me now and the man has the patience and temperament of a saint.

“How can we find him if we don’t know where he’s been?” Asher gripes.

“I…he…” A rock lodges in my voice box.

I’m not trying to be obtuse. I want to do the right thing. But I can’t help but feel like Preston will never trust me again if I spill. And I need him to trust me so I can help him.

I glance at the clock and nausea barrels into me.

Seven.

A lot can happen in seven hours. Preston could be anywhere right now.

He could be in trouble.

I pin Asher with a look. “If I tell you what I know, you have to promise me you won’t throw it in his face, no matter how mad you are.” 

His jaw works. “I don’t want to throw anything in his face, Kit. Despite what happened between us yesterday, I do care about him.”

Breslin rubs between his shoulder blades. “Asher’s been looking for him since he first left. You and Preston might be friends now, but Asher was your friend first. Stop treating him like an enemy.”

Breslin has a point. Maybe I subconsciously put Asher in the box marked bad because a small part of me can’t help but think Asher must have done something horrible to make Preston not want to talk to him.

Despite my friendship with Asher, I inadvertently chose a side without realizing it.

And even though it’s probably wrong of me, I can’t bring myself to regret it.

Preston needs someone on his side.

But I need to find him.

“He’s been living in Vegas.”

Asher throws his hands up. “That’s the first place I sent the private investigator. How the hell did he not find him?”

I sit on my hands to stop them from shaking. “I don’t know. Maybe because he worked for the m—”

Juan’s ringtone cuts me off mid-sentence and I jump out of my seat.  

“You got some 'splainin' to do,” Juan hisses when I answer. “Not only did you send me to the shadiest motel, but this skeevy guy at the front desk—”

“Skeevy guy has a name, twinkle toes,” Max grunts in the background.

Juan sighs. “I’m sorry. This skeevy guy named Max told me you’re married.”

Well, shit.

My mouth goes dry. “Um—”

“To a man!”

“A little bit,” I settle on. I’m seriously regretting not telling him now.

There’s a long pause on the other line. And then, “Oh, my God. It all makes sense.” He exhales sharply. “Sweetie, are you a prostitute? Are these men pumping you with drugs and forcing you to fu—”

“No,” I shout, both offended and impressed with Juan’s ability to conjure up the worst possible scenario. “I’m not a prostitute and they’re not giving me drugs.”

I can feel everyone’s eyes on me and I point to the phone. “It’s Juan.”

I get up and walk into the living room for some privacy, but everyone—Picasso included—follows behind me. “I would love to explain everything to you, and I will, but I can’t right now because time is of the essence. I need you to ask Max if he’s seen or talked to Preston—my husband.”

“Hold on.”

There’s murmuring in the background before Juan sighs. “He said if you wanted to talk to him, you should have called the motel instead of sending me to do your dirty work.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I grumble. “Put him on the phone.”

“Long time no talk, toots,” Max drawls a moment later.  

“Don’t you toots me, jerk. This is important.”

“What’s up?”

“Preston’s missing.”

I hear him chomp down on his toothpick. “Shit. Doll, I’m sorry to break it to you, but he’s not missing. I told him not to cross Campanelli.”

Despite knowing what he’s saying is incorrect, I have to remind my heart to beat again. “His debt with Campanelli is taken care of.”  

“He got the money back from the Russians?”

I start pacing my living room. “No. Long story short, Campanelli and his goons showed up at my nanna’s house and tried to kill him, but she took out her gun and offered him thirteen million to leave me and Preston alone.”

“What?” Breslin screeches.

“The fuck?” Asher barks.

“Jesus,” Landon mumbles.

Woof.

I hold up a finger, silencing them.  

Max whistles. “Is your nanna single?”

“She…ew.” Shaking that god-awful image out of my head, I continue. “Like I was saying, it’s not Campanelli. Preston left in the middle of the night on his own and I can’t find him.”

“Did you try calling him?”

“I don’t have his number.”

“You don’t have your husband’s number?”

So help me God I am going to deck the next person who says that.

Cradling the phone, I rub my temples. “I don’t. I was hoping you could give it to me. And before you say you don’t have it, I know he called you the other day from the taxi. I was there.”

“I don’t know, doll face. I don’t like getting involved in other people’s relationships.”

Somehow, I find that very hard to believe.

“You’re the only person who can help me, Max.” My heart pangs and I close my eyes. “I’ll do anything. I’ll even hop on a plane and flash you my boobs if that’s what it takes. I just need to get in contact with him. I need to know he’s okay.”

“You’re my friend’s wife. I can’t let you come down to my establishment and show me your tits.” I open my mouth to tell him he’s missing the point, but he adds, “Text me nudes instead.”

“Max—”

“Got a pen?”

I grab one off the coffee table. “Yes. Ready when you are.”

He rattles off the number and I quickly jot it down before I hang up and dial it.

My chest caves in when it goes directly to voicemail.

Given it’s the only lead I have and I don’t want to take the chance that Preston won’t call me back…or worse, get rid of his phone, I decide not to leave one.

“I think it’s turned off. It went directly to voicemail,” I whisper and my heart thrashes in protest.

Asher’s features screw up. “He’s working for the mob?”

“He was playing poker for a mob boss in Vegas, but it’s over now.” I plop down on the couch across from them. “Preston didn’t tell me much about it.”

He never told me much about anything.

Except one thing. I was tempted to ask Asher earlier, but I didn’t want to disclose Preston’s secret.

However, my concern must be winning out over my honor because it no longer seems like such a hindrance.

“I do know something that could help us, though.” Leaning forward, I rub my now damp hands on my sweatpants and look at Asher.  “He’s been talking to your mom.”