to throw Nathan off if that was what it took—only it wasn't Nathan, it was Coach Somers. Nathan was right next to him, wearing an identical expression of warning.
Right at that moment, I didn't give a fuck. I only cared about Morgan and whatever hell she was going through. I started to shake off Coach's hold but stopped when Nathan jerked the phone out of my hand. That distracted me enough to keep me from doing anything stupid.
How long that lasted was anyone's guess.
Nathan's gaze held mine as he put the phone to his ear. "Jacqui, it's me. What's going on?"
I leaned closer, needing to hear the details, but Coach tightened his grip on my shoulder and tried to lead me away. I fought against it, at least until I turned around and got a look at Coach's face. He wasn't pissed, the way I'd expected him to be. In fact, he actually looked understanding and sympathetic.
It wasn't a good look on him and that somehow made the entire situation a thousand times worse.
"Sit down, Gleason. Have a drink."
"I don't want—"
He pushed me into a seat and shoved a bottle of water into my hand. "Don't care. Drink."
I clenched my jaw and quickly uncapped the bottle, then took a long swig just to make the man happy. I must have been thirstier than I thought because I ended up downing half the bottle.
"Whatever's going on, we'll get it figured out."
I shot a look of disbelief at the coach then shook my head and turned back to Nathan. He was still on the phone, his back to me.
"Good game last night. I saw a lot of hustle out there."
I turned back to Coach, shocked into silence. Was he actually going to talk about last night's game? Now?
He stretched his legs out in front of him, looking like he was ready to settle in for the long haul. "Feels good to have back-to-back wins. We were overdue."
I grunted and took another swig of water, a smaller one this time.
"You had some decent plays out there, Gleason."
"Yeah. Thanks."
"I think it was a good choice, moving you up to first line. You really seem to click with Tracey."
I nodded, not having any idea how to respond. Coach either didn't notice or didn't care because he kept talking, his voice droning on and on—until he stopped. I jerked my head up at the sudden silence and noticed him staring past me.
"I think Shaw's done with his conversation. I'll let you two talk." Coach pushed to his feet then gave me a warning look. "Quietly. No need for the entire damn airport to hear what's going on."
I nodded, letting him know I understood the warning. A few seconds later, Nathan dropped into the empty seat next to me. The expression on his face told me everything I didn't want to know. That didn't stop me from asking.
"What happened? Where's Morgan?"
"That's what they're trying to figure out."
"What the fuck does that mean?"
"It means they're trying to find out what's going on. Addy called one of the family lawyers, thinking he'd have everything settled in a matter of hours." Nathan glanced at me then looked away. "That's the main reason they didn't call when it happened."
I brushed that excuse off—I didn't really care, not right now. I'd want a better explanation later but my main concern was Morgan. "Addy was obviously wrong about the attorney. Or did he decide not to go?"
"No, he went."
"But?"
"Morgan sent him away. Said she didn't want his help."
"What?" The word came out louder than I anticipated, earning me a warning look from Coach. I cleared my throat and slid down in the seat. "She sent him away? Why?"
"Nobody seems to know why."
"So she's still in jail?" My stomach curled at the thought and I had to forcibly swallow to keep the water I'd just guzzled from coming back up.
"I don't think so, no. Everyone seems to think that no formal charges were brought against her."
"Then where the hell is she?"
"Jacqui thinks she's still at the Eighth District station."
"Where the hell is that?"
"In the Quarter, on Royal Street. That's where she was when the attorney went to meet her."
"And if she's not there?"
Nathan shrugged but he wouldn't look at me. I sat up straighter and closed my hand around his arm, forcing him to face me.
"If she's not there, where is she?" I repeated the question, my tone demanding that he answer. I already knew, just from the look in his eyes, that I