Time, but your call is very important to us. To access our company voice mail directory, please select—”
Suppressing a curse, I jabbed at the zero. No way in hell was there nobody in that building, even at this hour of the day.
“You have reached the Shark Enterprises main line. Our offices are currently closed but will reopen at eight o’clock a.m. Pacific Time. If you need to reach someone right away—”
Another stab at the zero. I’d talk to someone in person at that damn building, even if I had to call LAFD and have them break the doors in.
After five rings, my anxiety mounted. I was preparing to punch at the zero again, when there was crackling on the line. Not electronic, though. It sounded more like a starving person digging into a bag of chips.
“Hello?” I croaked. “Hello, is someone—”
“Shark Enterprises, security desk,” a bored voice drawled.
“Hi,” I blurted. “Hi. Sorry. Thank you for picking up.” I meant it so completely, I nearly choked on it. “Is this Shark Enterprises?”
“Ma’am, I just said that.”
“Right. You did. Please, I need your help. I really, really need your help. I need to talk to somebody. I need to talk to them now.”
I nearly strung it together as one sentence, though my punctuation could’ve been the hand I pounded at my temple. The throbbing was back in my brain, beckoning me back to the blessed darkness behind my eyelids. I fought it with every strength I had—which wasn’t much.
“The offices are closed right now, ma’am, but I can patch you through to the voice mail—”
“No! No voice mail, please! I’m on a boat in the middle of the Pacific, and this is an emergency.”
“Ah. I’ll patch you through to maritime operations.”
“I don’t need them.”
“I beg your pardon, ma’am, but if you’re on a vessel and this matter is urgent, then you need—”
“Elijah Banks.” I released a breath, wanting to leap in joy that the name had finally slammed my brain. “I—I think he’s on Mr. Shark’s personal team in some capacity.”
“Oh. Then you do need the voice mail dir—”
“No! I fucking need Elijah Banks, on this line, right now!” I yearned to punch a wall, but there was only the damn sky and a hopelessly empty horizon. How the hell had those bastards gotten away so far, so fast? “Please. I’m begging you. This really is an emergency. Lives are stake! You must have Mr. Banks’s direct number there. Can you put down the Doritos for one second and dial it?”
I was going to regret the crack. Damn it, I already did. The guy’s affronted grunt told me as much.
But just as I braced myself for an ear full of dial tone, there was a new sound on the other end of the line. An angry, incessant buzz. A hail that had Doritos king shifting uncomfortably in his chair—cue the squeaky support gears—before huffing even louder at me.
“Hold please,” he mumbled.
I held. For my dear life. For Grant’s too.
The line reengaged with an odd collection of clumsy clicks. Once more I battled the despair of a disconnection, which was surely coming any second. Until…
“Who the fuck is this?”
I startled. Not my snack-loving friend. The voice was a vaguely recognizable snarl but not Shark himself. I’d recognize that arrogant ass’s baritone anytime.
“Who is this?” I retorted.
At first, there was only a violent snag of breath. A long, questioning pause. At last he ventured, “Rio? Is this you?”
I stopped pacing, though I was frazzled and punchy and desperate enough to claw a hand at my hairline again. “Who wants to know?”
“Rio. Thank God.”
He didn’t charge at that flank again. “Where are you?” he demanded instead. “Are you with Twombley? What’s the trouble?”
My heart stuttered as I squeezed my eyes shut, telling myself it wasn’t time for panic yet. Not. Yet. I still had to find the strength to be brave because I promised I would be brave. I had to suck up the air for words and be brave.
“No. I’m not with him. He’s…not here.”
“Okay.” There was a lot of rustling, like papers being sorted. His voice jostled as if he were doing five things at once. “I suspected as much.”
“You did?” I dropped my hand. My head jerked up. “How—”
“I got his text. Well, part of it.”
“His what?” My gaze bugged. My spirit soared. “A text?” Relief buckled my knees. I crumpled to the deck, no longer dreaming of torching it. “He did manage to hide his phone. If those assholes don’t find