Page 76 of Dirty Zone

Me: Can’t wait to celebrate when I get home

Me: Be home soon for kiwis and ball sacks

My hand clutching the phone goes numb, waiting for three dots to appear. “It doesn’t say delivered. What does that mean?” My voice squeaks.

“Phone’s off.” Ace pats my shoulder.

I scroll to the location apps, and Sky’s location was from thirty minutes ago. Thirty minutes, and he could be anywhere. I surge to my feet and get a head rush from all my blood plunging south.

“I have to get home!” I’m ready to bolt.

Mr. Dimon steps into my path. “We’ll get you home, I promise. But you need a plan and help.”

Chapter 32

Skylar Engelhardt/ Lark Angel

I convince “Paul” or whatever his name is that I have power of attorney for my Nonna Maria, and the paperwork is in my apartment. That we’d completed the paperwork in the emergency department in case something happened to her. I have the unsigned documents, but getting this lunatic away from Maria is my priority.

Maria will be smart enough to lock her door behind us and call 911.

Mav may or may not have understood my cryptic messages, but he’s hours away on a plane and hopefully the police will be here in minutes.

“Your boyfriend hasn’t texted.” Paul stares at my sparkly case.

“He’s working,” I fume, pretending to go through the stack of mail on the island. It’s Mav’s, and I’m not paying attention to it.

“He doesn’t seem to miss you the way I do.” Paul’s grip on reality is minimal, but I’m confused about his endgame.

“What happens once I find her power of attorney?” I ask.

“We’re taking a trip to her lawyers and making sure I can live here.”

Maria would’ve opened her home and given him whatever he wanted to reconnect with her family. But he’s avoided questions about his mom, Maria’s sister, and I highly doubt he’s really related.

Police lights reflect in the dance studio, and I pretend not to notice.

“We’re leaving.” Paul yanks me by the jacket to the back door. It hasn’t been used in years, so he has to slam into it. The frame around the door cracks, and he kicks it open so we can get through. His strength scares me because he looks malnourished and frail.

“She called the police,” he mutters.

“Nope. She doesn’t trust them at all. She has a fall monitor that brings police or EMTs or the fire department. She trips so often they’re on a first-name basis and won’t even blink if she talks to them through the intercom,” I lie.

“We need a place to stay for the night. Tomorrow we’ll get the paperwork and go change her will.” He speaks as if he has a solid, workable plan and is not clueless.

“I have an idea.” I’m not sure if this is brilliant or stupid as hell, but it’s too cold to spend the night outside. The wind stops, and there’s a muffled, desperate noise.

“Do you hear that sound?” I crouch outside the door.

Chapter 33

Maverick Maher

The team plane stops in Anaheim, and the guys file past me, offering supportive words and taps.

Mr. Dimon and I will continue to New York, without an announcement.

The team roster for tonight will show me as a healthy scratch, and hopefully no one notices I’m not at the game until after I find Sky.