Page 107 of Forgotten Comeback

I eye the door.

“You’re not leaving the party until we have this conversation, so I’d suggest you sit down.”

Crossing my arms, I fall back into the chair. “If you’re asking me who Gavin is, that means you don’t know the answer, either.”

“You would be correct,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “And I don’t like not knowing the answer. The man kidnapped my wife; I refuse to let that slide.”

“Please, I don’t want to be in the middle of whatever the hell this is,” I beg, my voice catching.

“This photo tells me it’s too late for that,” he says matter-of-factly. “I want to know who ‘Gavin Webb’ really is, and more importantly,whyhe’s suddenly off limits,” he says, his cool facade nearly slipping. “I want to know his connection to John Davis, and I want to know his connection to Inferno. You will find out all of this, and you report back to me.”

“And if I refuse?” I lift my chin.

He retrieves a vial of something from his desk drawer, giving it a spin. “Then my wife will be sad to learn her friend committed suicide. Like mother, like daughter.”

“I’ll see what I can find out,” I whisper, my heart feeling like it might implode.

“In that case, enjoy the party.”

He strolls across the room and unlocks the door for me, and I practically sprint out of the house. Getting through security a second damn time, I drive back to AC, my mind racing faster than a red muscle car.

Panic grips me by the throat, and I have to pull over, my chest heaving as I struggle to catch my breath. Fumbling for my phone, I call Gavin to chew his ass out for putting me in this position.

“What’s up, man-eater?”

Except now I can’t talk. I can’t even fucking breathe.

Gavin

Panic unfurls in my chest, but I keep my voice calm. “Taylor, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“I can’t breathe,” she says between jagged breaths.

“Are you at the party? I’ll come get you?—”

“No.”

“Where are you?”

“Driving home. Pulled over. Panic attack,” she says between pants.

“Take a deep breath for me,” I instruct. “In through your nose for me. I’ll count. One. Two. Three. Four. Hold it.”

She calms and does as I ask.

“Let it out slowly on the count of four. One. Two. Three. Four.”

We do this two more times before she says, “Gavin?”

“Yes, baby?”

“I fucking hate you.” She ends the call.

Already in the dog house. That didn’t take long.

“Back in the ring,” my coach barks, and I duck under the ropes and let loose on his pads. Coach is telling me something, but my mind’s on Taylor. She was supposed to be at Kat’s party, and something obviously happened that upset her…

“Gavin, did you hear me?” he snaps.