Page 101 of Double Daddies (Dirty Daddies Anthologies #8)

Chapter Thirteen

Ezra

I lean back in my chair, glancing at the clock on the wall. It’s almost time to pick up Wren, and I can hardly contain my excitement. Elijah and I have planned this surprise, wanting to show her just how much we care. I pull out my phone, tapping the screen to check the tracker one more time.

My heart sinks as I stare at the map. Wren’s dot is no longer at the shop. Instead, it’s moving—fast.

“Hey, Elijah,” I call, my voice tight with concern as I stand up. “Something's wrong.”

Elijah rushes in from his office, brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I just checked the tracker. Wren isn’t at the shop anymore.” My mind races as I try to make sense of it. “She was supposed to be working until nine. She wouldn’t have left earlier, plus she mentioned continuing our talk after she got off.”

Elijah’s expression shifts from casual to serious in an instant. He crosses the room to peer over my shoulder at the phone. “Where is she?”

I trace the dot on the screen, watching it move further away from our planned route. “Looks like she was in the alley behind the shop and now she’s on her way across town. I don’t know where, but she’s moving quickly.”

“Call her,” Elijah barks, his voice urgent.

I hit the call button, anxiety gnawing at me as the phone rings. “Come on, Wren, pick up,” I mutter under my breath. But after several rings, it goes to voicemail.

“Damn it,” I curse, feeling a knot tighten in my stomach. “What if she’s in trouble? What if this is Richard’s doing?” That fucking cop has been looking for Wren since she got away from him. The report from Jacobson listed every dirty deal that he’s involved in.

Elijah’s expression hardens as he processes my words. “We can’t let him get to her again. We need to find her now.”

We rush out of the office, the cool night air hitting us like a splash of cold water. I pull up the tracker again, trying to keep my focus. “She’s moving quickly. If we don’t hurry, we might lose her.”

The moment we reach the parking lot, I sprint toward my car, heart pounding in my chest. Elijah is right beside me, his expression a mix of determination and concern. We hop into the vehicle, and I slam the door shut, the sound echoing in the stillness of the night.

“Get us to Fifth Street,” I bark, my voice sharp with urgency as Elijah slides into the driver’s seat. He turns the key in the ignition, and the engine roars to life, a welcome sound in the tense atmosphere.

“Fifth Street? Which warehouse?” he asks, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.