Home > Ignited (Most Wanted #3)(83)

Ignited (Most Wanted #3)(83)
Author: J. Kenner

As soon as it disconnected, I called my father on the burner. I wasn’t even conscious of making the decision to call, but soon the phone was ringing and I knew that other than seeing Cole, the only thing I wanted right then in the world was to hear my dad telling me that it was all going to be okay.

“Kitty Cat,” he said softly.

“Daddy.” It was the only word I could manage though the tears that filled my throat.

“Is this a good-news call? I thought you weren’t going to call your old man until this whole mess blew over.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get your hopes up.”

For a moment, there was silence, then his voice came back on the line, soft and gentle. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

That did it. The tears flowed freely. “Nothing,” I said. “Nothing to do with you, I mean. It’s just—it’s just—” I sucked in air. “I guess I just want to see you. But I can’t. Not yet. But I had to at least hear your voice, you know?”

“You’re scaring me, kiddo. You going to tell your old man what’s wrong? You in trouble?”

“No,” I said quickly. “No, it’s just Cole.”

“You have a fight?” he asked, his voice full of protective paternalism.

“No,” I said. “But when I find him I think we will.” I told him briefly what had happened. How something had upset Cole, and how he’d gone off wild into the night to fight his demons.

“Well, they’re his demons, aren’t they?” Daddy asked.

“I—well, yes. But—”

“Give him a chance, sweetheart.”

“A chance?”

He sighed. “Love doesn’t change who a person is, kiddo. Just the opposite. Love lets you strip away all the armor you’ve put on to protect you from the riffraff of the world. You love Cole?”

“Yes.”

“So if he needs time alone, does that make you love him less?”

“No, of course not, but—” I felt my fear and temper deflate just a little. “I want to help him,” I finished lamely. “I want him to need me.”

“I’m sure he does. But does that mean he has to follow the script in your head? Give him space. Talk to him. Don’t manufacture a problem until there is a problem. I’ve seen the way that boy looks at you,” my dad added. “And trust me when I say that he loves you.”

I was smiling when I ended the call, which was a miracle in and of itself since I was no closer to finding Cole. But everything my dad said had soothed me, and it saddened me a bit that Cole had gone his entire life without a parent watching his back.

Except he hadn’t.

I cocked my head, turning the thought over as I examined it. Maybe he hadn’t had a mother and father. Maybe he hadn’t lived the stereotypical life with two parents, a picket fence, and a dog. But he’d had brothers, hadn’t he? Tyler and Evan.

And he’d had a father. He’d had Jahn.

I’d wanted to go see my dad, but I couldn’t, and so I’d done the next best thing—I’d called him.

Cole couldn’t visit or talk to Jahn—but if he wanted to feel close to his friend and mentor, he could go to where he used to live.

He could go to Jahn’s old condo.

Nobody answered when I buzzed the intercom, but I told myself it didn’t matter. He was in there, because he had to be in there. Because if he wasn’t, then I was out of ideas, and that simply wasn’t acceptable.

Angie had given me a key and the security code months ago so that I could come in and use the condo’s fitness center and pool whenever I wanted. I’d never before entered the actual condo without her advance permission, though.

Tonight, I did.

“Hello?” I called softly as I stepped into the foyer. “Cole?”

There was no answer, and I repeated the call as I moved through the living room and then into the kitchen and bedrooms.

Nobody.

I returned to the living room and stood there frowning. The room looked pristine. Certainly no one had gone and smashed through this area in the mindless throes of a tantrum. Did that mean he hadn’t been here? Or did it just mean that he was calming down?

Howard Jahn used to tell anyone who would listen that one of the reasons that he bought this condo as opposed to any other was because the living room was dominated by a magnificent spiral staircase that led to an even more magnificent rooftop patio. Now I turned my attention to that staircase and slowly let my gaze drift upward.

Please, I thought, then walked in that direction.

I climbed slowly, both wanting to find him and wanting to postpone the disappointment if it turned out that he wasn’t up there.

He wasn’t.

There were no lights on the patio when I stepped through the sliding glass door onto the smooth slate surface. I looked around, peering through the inky night first toward the railing and glass barrier that overlooked the lake, and then toward the fully stocked kitchen and sitting area.

No Cole.

I drew in a breath, letting my shoulders rise and fall as this unwelcome reality settled over me. I started to turn to go back inside when something on a small metal bench in front of the glass barrier caught my eye. A manila envelope. And on top of it, the small green stone that I’d often seen Cole rub when he was worried or frustrated or upset.

I’d changed into jeans before I’d come to the condo, and now I slipped the stone into my pocket. The envelope was a little trickier to deal with. I wanted to open it. And yet I didn’t.

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