Page 86 of Property of Tacoma

I lift my hand in a half-hearted wave as they drive off.

“Now what?” I whisper to myself as the all too familiar sound of blinds banging against glass comes from behind me.

Turning around, I get a good look at Panda and groan. The blinds are stretched to the max around his rolly polly body.

“Seriously, dude? I just replaced those.”

Throwing my hands up in the air, I stomp towards the RV, but stop short when my phone starts ringing in my back pocket.

Two guesses who it is.

Glancing down at the screen, Mason’s name flashes across the screen.

“Nope.” I hit the button on the side and send his call to voicemail.

I can’t deal with his bossiness right now.

No sooner does it stop vibrating in my hand than it starts ringing again.

“Are you kidding me?” I hit the button again and send him to voicemail.

When it starts ringing for a third time, I’m ready to throw the damn thing into the nearest dumpster.

“This is verging on harassment,” I growl.

I can’t deal with his shit today. Seriously.

My heart feels like it’s broken into a million pieces, and I need some time to figure my shit out.

The ringing stops.

Then starts up again.

“Jesus Christ!” I swipe to answer, pressing the phone to my ear. “Seriously, Mason? This is fucking crazy! Stop blowing up my damn phone. I’ll call you back when it’s convenient for me!”

There. I said it.

“Have you spoken with Tacoma?” His voice is cautious.

My chest constricts painfully at the mention of his name. “No. Why?”

“Cali—”

“We broke up,” I snap, hating how my voice cracks on the words. “So no, I haven’t spoken to him and I don’t want to talk about him.”

There’s a pause, then Mason’s voice drops. “Fuck. I’m sorry, sis, but this is important. I just spoke with him. His son is missing.”

The hair on the back of my neck stands on end as all the oxygen stalls in my lungs.

This doesn’t make any sense. He’s missing? Jagger wouldn’t take off and worry his father. He’s a good kid.

“Cali?” Mason’s voice sounds far away.

I shake my head even though he can’t see me. “Who?” The word comes out barely a whisper. “Who took him?”

“The Sinners.”

“How do you know?”