Stoned (The Four Book 2) by Layla Frost

Author:Layla Frost [Frost, Layla]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: CPSMI
Published: 2019-02-11T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Day Jerki—Drinking

Stellan

FIVE DAYS.

Juno had been gone for five fucking days. In theory, that wasn’t a long time. Less than a week. But each day without her seemed longer than the last.

I was losing my fucking mind.

It’d taken me a day to locate Lea and Beth. When I had, they’d given a vague answer.

Juno had gone to see her dad.

Which, I had to admit, I found really fucking suspicious considering her dad had been dead for five years.

I hadn’t called them on the lie, partially because I didn’t want them to give Juno the heads-up that she needed a new story, but mostly because it wouldn’t have done any good.

They were loyal to her, and no charm, threat, or bribe would change that.

Admirable as it was, it really pissed me off.

Sitting at my desk, not remembering a thing I’d just read, I flipped back through my emails. When I skimmed the first one four times, only to once again absorb none of it, I exited out of everything and stood.

Danes looked up at me. “What? Find something?”

I hadn’t. There was nothing. But even if it was right in front of me, I doubted I’d have noticed because my mind was on my missing pixie.

I needed to get my shit together because she wasn’t the only one who’d disappeared.

For months, people had been going missing. No bodies. No crime scenes. No clues. They’d just vanished—a too common pattern of human trafficking. Most people thought sex trafficking was exclusive to foreign countries, willfully ignoring how prevalent it was in the states.

Every time I thought we were close, we’d hit another dead end. Another smokescreen covering up nothing and distracting us from who was responsible. It was a wild goose chase, leading us further and further from the truth. We’d thought we had a lead, a man named Corey Willard who was a low man in the operation, but trailing him had gotten us nowhere.

Feds were working the case. Twenty-three precincts in two different states. Beat cops. Detectives. I wouldn’t have been surprised if parking enforcement and mall security were on it, too.

We all had the same results.

Jack-fucking-shit.

Shaking my head, I bit back a snarl of frustration and pulled on my coat. “I’m going home.”

“On behalf of the precinct, allow me to thank you. I’m not sure if there’s anyone left whose head you haven’t bitten off.”

He had a point, and that pissed me off, too.

“Mildred,” I said, referring to the eighty-year-old who worked the front desk.

“Wrong. You told her to pick up the pace or you’d have her arrested for obstruction.”

I rubbed my temple.

Shit, I’m a dick.

“How’d you fuck it up?” Danes asked.

“You just said—”

“Not with Mildred. You bring her some hard candy, and you still got a chance. I meant with Juno.”

I lifted a shoulder. “She hasn’t even talked to me to try to break things off.” Jealousy surged through me, a rush in my ear and venom in my veins. “And she hasn’t been home.”

“Like I said, how’d you fuck it up?”

“I got her stores shot up in a drive-by and then almost got her hit by a car.

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