been here once today. You know what the officer I spoke to told me?”
“What?” Roman asks, taking the helmet from my hands and hanging it on the handlebar.
“He told me she probably got cold feet and ran away. Why would she run away from her friends? She’s not marrying us!”
“What a fucking idiot,” he mutters. “Come on.”
Just as we’re about to reach the door, Roman’s phone dings in his pocket. He pulls it out and reads the screen. “What’s up?” I ask.
“The video just went live on the MC’s page. Let’s hope it goes viral.”
“I’ll share it right now,” I tell him as I grab my device from my purse and quickly find their page. While we are walking up to the clerk’s window, I post it with a message to please keep sharing it until we find Tessa.
I’ve just finished up when Roman tells the policewoman on the other side of the bullet proof glass, “I need to see Chief Bailey.”
“It’s Saturday,” she replies while blinking at him, as if that’s some obvious information.
“I don’t give a shit if it’s Christmas fucking Eve. I need to see the Chief, so you call and tell him to get his fat ass in here right now!”
My chest seizes at Roman’s anger, worried that they will throw us out of here or arrest us before we get to talk to anyone.
But then, to my surprise, the police officer picks up her phone and says, “Sorry to bother you on your day off, Chief, but Roman McNamara is here demanding to speak to you.”
Turning to Roman, who looks calm and cool despite his yelling, I whisper, “How does she know your name? You didn’t tell her.”
“Remember what I said? I’ve got more authority in this city than the mayor and this entire department combined. I let them pretend to be in charge, and they do what the fuck I say.”
“Oh,” I mutter in disbelief. “Well, this is important…”
“It is,” he agrees while running his fingers through the front of his reddish-brown curls. “Which is why I don’t give a shit if the chief is playing golf with the local business elite. He’s going to get in here and get to work helping us find Tessa and the fuckers who took her.”
The timing may be all wrong, but in this moment, I can’t help but think that Roman McNamara is the hottest man I’ve ever met.
Roman
“How dare you post that damn video all over the place!” Chief Bailey accuses me, face red and angry.
“The people in this city deserve to know what’s happening in their own fucking streets,” I tell him. “Now, are you going to help us find Tessa Singleton or not?”
I’m not asking him to help find the assholes responsible. No, the MC will track them down and make them pay in a way that doesn’t require a judge, jury or trial. Our punishment will be swift and just for whatever they do to Tessa. Just for kidnapping her, we’ll kill them. If they laid a finger on her? Well, we’ll make them suffer for a very long time before we end their miserable existence to ensure that they never hurt another woman again.
“You have no idea what this type of thing will do to the tourist economy,” the chief says.
“Fuck the economy,” I mutter in disgust.
“Easy for you to say since your MC could make it through a downturn, but what about those individuals in the restaurant business or in retail, not to mention the hotel industry? Some of them live paycheck to paycheck in the busy season. They won’t make it if we lose even a percent of tourists.”
Something isn’t adding up here. After I showed the chief the video, he barely flinched. And now, instead of worrying about the safety of a poor woman, he’s talking to me about how her kidnapping could affect people’s wallets?
“What the fuck aren’t you telling us?” I ask him pointblank.
“I don’t have anything to tell you,” he says too quickly.
“Bullshit! Tessa isn’t the first, is she?”
“What do you mean?” Charlotte asks me and then turns to the chief as understanding dawns. “You’re not saying…have there been other women who have gone missing?”
The chief’s silence is answer enough.
“You son of a bitch!” I exclaim when I shoot to my feet and reach across the desk to grab him up by the front of his shirt. “How many?”
“I’m not aware of any true instances of kidnapping…”
I pull on his shirt until the collar tightens around