Chapter 18

Sophie

I can't peel my eyes away from Lincoln.

Every twitch of his muscles and every movement of his hand brings forth erotic memories from what we did last night and again this morning. I had to soak in the tub when I got home and I slept the best I have in a long time. I guess several intense orgasms will do that.

My body vibrates with a chuckle as I finish cleaning Ken's station so I can observe Lincoln as he tattoos his client's side with an image of a nineteen-fifties pin-up girl.

The vibration of my phone against my butt startles me, but I ignore it. Even though Linc said I could have my phone with me, I don't want him to think I'm taking liberties now we've slept together. The vibrating stops and immediately starts again. A prickling sensation crawls down my spine, and the need to check my phone becomes overwhelming. The vibrating stops, and I exhale a relieved breath, but it starts again.

Lincoln raises his head. His dark eyebrows slashed low over his gorgeous blue eyes. He gestures with his chin toward my pocket. "Do you need to get that? Someone seems desperate to get in touch with you." The buzzing stops, then starts again.

"Do you mind?" I stand, digging into my back pocket, but don't pull out my phone, waiting for his approval.

"It seems it may be important. Take it in the office."

I nod once—"Thanks."—then take quick steps into the office to check the screen. Four missed calls from Dad. Shit. It vibrates in my hand again, and I immediately accept the call. "Dad, I can't answer the phone whi?—"

"I'm so sorry. I fell asleep. I was up late last night writing. I didn't even realize how tired I was until I woke up with my cheek stuck to my keyboard," he blurts in a rush.

"Dad, slow down."

"I can't slow down. I was late to collect James from the bus stop, and he wasn't there!" he shouts, frantic.

My heart drops to my feet, and the world around me slows. The blood in my veins moves like molasses, and my brain pounds. I grip Lincoln's desk to hold myself up before I collapse onto the office floor. "Wha …"

"Did you hear me? James wasn't at the bus stop. He knows the way home from there. It's not that far. He couldn't have gotten lost. He's missing, Sophie! It's all my fault!" He sobs, and I can picture him frantically rubbing his free hand through his thick salt and pepper hair.

My head pounds, filled with cotton and stealing my ability to think. I'm sure there's a logical explanation. There has to be. "Maybe he missed the bus, and he's still at school?"—that has to be it—"Or maybe he went to a friend's house? Have you checked with Tyler down the street?"

"Of course I checked with Tyler," he snaps. "He said they got off the bus together. He said James started walking home on his own."

Dizziness overwhelms me, and acid creeps up from my stomach, so I run to the bathroom, banging through the door noisily. I make it just in time for my lunch to reappear, dropping my phone to the floor as I crash to my knees.

"Fuck! Sophie, what happened?" Steady hands gather my hair and pull it out of the way as I empty the contents of my stomach.

"Sophie!" Dad's tinny voice calls from the phone on the tiled floor. "Sophie! Are you okay? What's happening?" His voice is frantic through the speaker, but I'm incapable of speech right now as more of my lunch evacuates my body. I don't recall eating all that much, but this seems never-ending. My hands shake, sweat coats every inch of my skin, and I grip the porcelain tighter so I don't end up face-first in the bowl.

"Hello? Who's this?" Linc's stern voice echoes in the bathroom. Oh God!

"Sophie's Dad. Who's this?" Lincoln must have put the call on speaker because Dad doesn't sound so far away. I retch again, and there's nothing delicate about it as bile works its way out of my body.

"Lincoln. Sophie's boss."

"Is she okay? What's going on?"

"She's sick. What did you say to her? She was fine before your call," he snaps, danger and protectiveness in his tone.

"I … uh … told her James is missing." Oh my God! I need to get my shit together. I need to find my son. Strong arms loop beneath mine and help me stand as I try to push up from the toilet. "She needs to come home immediately. I've called the police. They're on the way."

"Sure. Uh, okay. I'll help her clean up, and we'll be on our way."

"Thank you." The relief in Dad's voice is palpable, but I'm unable to find any relief in this situation.

Lincoln helps me to the sink and turns on the faucet so I can rinse out my mouth. My legs tremble, and my body shakes. Tears sting the back of my eyes, and a sob escapes. Tenderly, Lincoln turns me away from the sink and wipes my face with a towel, his concerned eyes following each movement. "There," he whispers. "All clean."

"I-I-I ha-have t-t-to go."

He nods. "Just give me a sec." Before I can answer, he disappears, then returns just as quickly. Cupping my elbow, he leads me toward the back door, grabbing my purse on the way. "C'mon. Let's go." The next thing I know, Lincoln's tearing out of the parking lot and pulling onto the street.

We drive in silence; me looking out of the window, trying to make sense of what's happened. James has to be okay. He must be somewhere.

A kid can't just disappear.

Vanish into thin air.

Then I remember what happened to Lincoln's sister.

Shevanished into thin air.

I cover my mouth to stem the sob that's forcing its way up my throat. It only took a moment, and she was gone—stolen from him and his family.

Could someone have taken James?

God, if I'd given him a damn phone, I could sort this out with a simple call.

"Soph?"

"Huh?" I turn toward Lincoln.

"Who's James?" I swallow past the roughness in my throat and open my mouth to answer him, but nothing comes out. My mouth is so dry, and my tongue feels too big for the space. I lick my lips and swallow. I never told him. I turn back toward my window, my legs shaking up and down with nervous energy. "Sophie?"

I keep my face to the window and whisper, "My son."

The silent car amplifies his sharp intake of breath, but I can't worry about Lincoln right now. I need to find James. He pulls up in front of my home, and I fly out of the car before he comes to a complete stop, heading straight for Dad, who's speaking with two police officers.

His eyes widen when he spots me. "Sophie!" he shouts as he wheels closer. "I-I'm so sorry. This is all my fault." His red, swollen eyes trace over my face with confusion, then move further down my body.

Shit!I'm still dressed for work, and I'm sure the thick eyeliner I wear around my eyes is a smudged mess.

Dad's eyes snap up to something behind me, and his eyes narrow when Linc's hand lands on my lower back. Double shit!

A throat clears beside me—"Hello."—and I turn toward the sound. "Ma'am." He tips his head. "I'm Sergeant Grey, and this is Officer Banks. You must be James's mom."

"Yeah. Why are you here and not out looking for my son?" I snap as I wave my arms around like a wild woman.

"We will. We just need a few details from you. The sooner we get detailed information, the sooner we can begin our search."

I nod. Calm the fuck down. You won't be any help if you go off the damn deep end. I swipe the wetness from my cheeks that's been constantly streaming down my face since Dad's call. "How can I help?" I hiccup through my tears.

"Your dad couldn't tell us what James was wearing today." He holds his pen poised, ready to take notes.

I describe James's clothing, the color of his hair, height, build, and eye color. His backpack and shoes. Everything I can think of that may help. I dig out my phone and show them my most recent photo of him, and the tears that I'd been holding back while speaking start again like a flood. My body shakes, so I wrap my arms around myself to hold myself together.

"And where have you been this afternoon?"

Puzzled by the sudden question, I stutter. "I-I-I was a-at work." I glance over my shoulder to find Lincoln standing close by, giving me enough space to do what I need to do.

"And where's that?"

I glance at Dad. "Fine Line Art Studio."

Officer Banks nods. "The tattoo shop?" I swallow and nod again, too afraid to look at my father. The officer looks across at Lincoln. "And you are?"

"I'm her boss," he tells them as he shoves his hands deep into his pockets.

Sergeant Grey's eyes narrow. "And why are you here?"

I feel the air around Lincoln shift and change as he stands taller. "She was in no condition to drive, so I brought her home."

"Can we please look for my son?" I beg.

"A few more questions, and we'll need some of James's clothing to get a search underway. Can you tell us places he likes to go, about his friends, and whatnot?" I tell the sergeant everything I can think of in my state of panic. "We'll need the contact numbers for his friend's parents." I nod, swallowing down my impatience. I guess the more information they have, the better our chances of finding him, so I tell them everything I can about James.

"All right. I think we have everything. We're going to call this into the station. We'll put out a missing person alert and get a few teams here to help us search the area. He's probably at a friend's house or somewhere equally obvious."

I hope so.

I nod, folding my arms around my body and curling in on myself. Lincoln's arm wraps around my shoulders, and I want to lean into him; to take his strength, but when I glance across at Dad, his face is full of confusion and disappointment, so I step away from the man I need right now. "I need to change so I can search for James." I won't be able to run in these boots, so I race inside without waiting for a response and head straight for my bedroom. I wince when I catch sight of myself in the mirror behind my door. I quickly change into yoga pants and sneakers, then throw on an oversized sweater before tying up my hair in a messy bun. Not much I can do about my face right now. I don't have time to waste cleaning myself up. Too much time has already been wasted.