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Chapter Thirty-Four

Dominic

I pull back from Trent, but he moves with me, so I shove him off and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I bark out. “I already told you to fuck off with this shit.”

People are staring, but I don’t fucking care. I hope they catch this on camera because I’d love for everyone to know how much of a prick this guy is.

He grins at me. “I thought you were just saying that because your boyfriend was watching.”

“I said it because I have a boyfriend, asshole.”

He purses his lips, looking at me like he doesn’t believe what I’m saying. Like I’m lying and only putting on a show. I’m not. I don’t want anything to do with this guy or any other guy that isn’t Mikah.

“That’s what they all say. ”

“Fuck you, Trent. Stay the fuck away from me,” I grit out as I move past him.

“It won’t last, you know! Never does for people like us!” he calls after me as I move back into the club. What the fuck is his problem? Why does he suddenly care what I do? The guy hasn’t talked to me since we made that video almost a year ago and never showed interest in making another. Hell, even when we made the video, he didn’t seem all that into me. He’s more into himself than anything else. Maybe I’d have recognized it as a red flag if half the guys I made videos with didn’t act like that. Unfortunately, it’s common in this line of work. Comes with the territory. People get big heads because they’re used to people wanting them all the time, so they think everyone wants them all the time.

Well, I don’t. All I want is Mikah. Right now, I want to fucking go home with him. Fuck this place. Fuck the expo tomorrow. Fuck Vegas. Will Mikah agree to go home with me sooner than planned? Yeah, probably. This isn’t his scene, which I am grateful for.

I push through the crowds of people to get to the bar. Mikah isn’t there. I walk from one end to the other, just to make sure I haven’t missed him. He’s definitely not here. Maybe he’s in the bathroom?

I head that way, bypassing the line and heading right inside. “Mikah?” I call out, checking everyone inside with a quick glance, but I don’t see him in here either .

Did he go to the other one? It’s possible, but unlikely. Still, I head that way to check because I need to find him. When he isn’t there either, I start to worry. He’s drunk; he could have wandered off anywhere.

I go back into the club and search the main dance floor. It’s lower than the rest of the club, so standing at the railing, I can look down at everyone there. Scanning the area, I don’t see him here either.

“What the fuck?” I mutter.

I pull my phone from my pocket and head toward the lobby as I call him. He doesn’t answer, and it eventually goes to voicemail. So I call him again. And again and again and again. No answer. I send him texts. He doesn’t answer. So now I’m really fucking worried.

Think, Dominic. Think.

Maybe he went to the hotel. He was drunk and maybe he forgot I was here. I shouldn’t have fucking left him. Fuck, how could I be so stupid? I can’t be sure how long it took to get our jackets, but I can’t imagine it being more than ten or fifteen minutes? The line was long, but it wasn’t that long, was it? Besides, if he walked out, I would have seen him… right?

The hotel we’re staying at isn’t far, so instead of hopping into a taxi, I walk. I don’t think he has a key. I’m pretty sure I didn’t give him one, but he has his ID, so it’s possible the front desk gave him one. I hurry to the elevator and go up.

I jog down the hall until I reach our room and hold my breath as I tap the key card and swing open the door. It feels empty. It’s too quiet. But maybe he’s sleeping.

“Mikah?” I call out, stepping inside and tossing our jackets onto the couch in the small living room. I move into the bedroom in the back. Empty. Kitchen is empty. Living room, empty. Bathroom empty. Everything is fucking empty. He isn’t here.

I call him again. This time when the voicemail picks up, I leave him a message.

“Hey, it’s me. I’m worried. Can you please call me back?”

The last place I want to lose someone is in Vegas. Especially when they’re drunk. This is one of those places people get fucking kidnapped from and sold for sex trafficking and shit. And if someone recognized him, they’d want him. Even if they didn’t, he’s a target. I shouldn’t have fucking left him alone. Fuck, I’m so stupid.

The anxiety coursing through me has me shaking. I sit down on the couch and stare at my phone, hoping he’s going to call me back and tell me he’s lost. We’ll laugh about it. I’ll go find him and bring him back here. We’ll wake up tomorrow, fuck, and then go home because screw the expo. I just want to go home with him. But after staring at my phone for nearly ten minutes, it doesn’t ring. So I call the only person I can somewhat rely on.

“Hello?” Emmet answers, his voice full of sleep.

“I need your help.”

“What is it?” he asks, sounding more alert.

“I’m in Vegas for the awards. Mikah is missing.”

“Missing how?”

I get to my feet and pace. “We were in the club. I went to get our jackets. When I went back to get him, he was gone. He’s trashed. We were drinking all night.”

“Have you gone to the police?”

I pause, blinking. “Can I do that?”

“Of course you can.”

“It hasn’t been twenty-four hours.”

“That’s all bullshit. You can still file a report.”

“But what if he’s just… I don’t know, roaming around drunk?”

“Then at least the cops will know and can let you know if they find him.”

“Yeah, okay. Good point. Thanks. And, uh, sorry to wake you.”

“It’s never a problem. You know that. Call me back when you get this figured out.”

I tell him I will, and then I end the call.

Heading down to the front desk, I ask them where the police station is and the quickest way to get there. They, of course, ask if everything is okay. I tell them what’s going on and they give me a number to call, letting me know I don’t have to go to the station. I guess that makes sense, since so many people go missing here. Which isn’t a relief at all.

Exhausted, both physically and mentally, I make my way back up to my room and call the number. The man on the other end sounds like he couldn’t care less about my situation, but I hear him typing away on the computer when I give him info, so at least he’s doing what he says.

“We’ll call you if we get any info,” he tells me. Just like that. As if sitting here and waiting won’t be an issue. Well, it won’t be his issue, so what does he care?

I spend the next hour pacing the room, staring out the window, sitting, standing back up. My eyes feel like they’re full of sand and my head is swimming.

Moving back to the floor to ceiling windows, I look over Vegas as the sun begins to rise.

“Mikah, where the fuck are you?”

Four days.

I spend four days in Vegas before I decide it’s time to go home. Well, I don’t decide; Emmet convinces me I need to. I begged him to go by Mikah’s house, and he told me he wasn’t there. Didn’t look like anyone had been. I feel like I need to stay here, that leaving is the worst thing to do, but there is nothing I can do here. If he shows up somewhere, I can fly back to get him. Or maybe he’ll end up back home.

I’ve been going insane not knowing where he is or what’s happened. I’ve barely slept, barely ate. I am not taking care of myself, but that is the least of my worries. All I can think about is Mikah out there, hurt and missing. Alone. Begging for help. Hoping someone will find him and save him, and here I am running home instead of looking for him.

I did though. I went out for hours each day to search the streets. Asked homeless people and businesses. I showed them pictures of him, but no one had seen him. No one. It’s like he disappeared off the face of the earth, and that scares the absolute shit out of me.

When the Uber pulls up in front of my house, I don’t go in. I head to Mikah’s house and knock on the door and ring the bell. No one answers, of course. So I go around back to check the back door. Locked. I look through his windows but see nothing. His car hasn’t moved, and the mail is piled in the box. I know he had the neighbor over to feed his cat, so I decide that’s the next best place to check—after trying to open his windows, by the way, but they’re all locked. Have been since the first time I broke in. I can’t blame him for that. Maybe he isn’t worried about me breaking in, but someone else could.

I head across the street to the Thompsons house. After ringing the bell and waiting a moment, Gary opens the door. He’s a rugged guy who owns a construction company.

“Hey, Dominic. How’s it going?” he asks.

“Not too great.” I offer a smile. “Has Theresa heard from Mikah?” I ask.

“Not that I know of,” he says, looking over his shoulder and calling for his daughter. She’s a good kid. Fifteen and very mature. She dog-walks, cat-sits, and does some other things around the neighborhood to earn money .

She shows up a moment later. “Hey, Dominic. What’s up, Dad?”

“Have you heard from Mikah?” he asks her.

She shakes her head. “No. I went over there to feed Captain Fluffy Paws like he told me to, but that was it. Is everything okay?” she asks carefully.

“Do you have the key still?”

She looks at her father, who nods, so she looks back at me. “No, I left it on the kitchen counter like Mikah told me to.”

I nod, taking in a breath.

“What’s going on?” Gary asks.

“He’s… missing.”

“Captain Fluffy Paws?” Theresa says with wide eyes.

I shake my head. “Mikah.”

“Missing?” Gary barks. “How? When?”

“Saturday night. We were in Vegas for a show and he just… disappeared.” I scrub a hand down my face. “I’ve been going crazy trying to find him. I already filed a report. He isn’t answering my calls or texts. His phone is off, and he’s just… gone. But I know he wouldn’t leave the cat, and that makes me think something is really wrong. It’s like… someone took him.”

“God, that’s awful,” Gary says. “I’m so sorry, Dominic. If there is anything I can do, please let me know.”

“Yeah, me too,” Theresa says.

“I will, thanks. If you see him or hear from him, please let me know, okay?”

“Of course. ”

I trudge back to my house, fall onto my bed, and pass out.

The next day, I go back to Mikah’s and wonder if I should break in to save the cat. His house will be a mess, the litter box will stink, but I’m sure the cat is fine. Probably broke into the cat food, since that’s what they do in times like this. I’ve had eyes on his house every second I’m awake, and I haven’t seen any movement. Not from him and not from the cat.

I don’t know what to do…

Two more days go by, and I consider going in to save the cat again. Maybe I should call animal control? Or whoever it is to report the cat is alone. They’d have to break into his house, and that would suck, but at least CP will be okay. When Mikah comes home, he’ll appreciate the fact that I took care of the cat. He’s probably so worried about him.

So that’s what I do. The nice woman on the other end of the phone tells me someone will be over in the afternoon to check it out and see what needs to be done.

When I spot the van pull up later that afternoon, I head out front, only to stop when my cell phone rings. I only answer it because it’s a Vegas number and they may have news.

The animal control officer gets out of the van and heads to Mikah’s house.

“Hello?” I answer.

“Hi, I’m looking for Dominic Blake.”

“This is him.” I keep my eyes on the officer, who is knocking on the front door. I’m out on my porch, needing to see what is going on .

“This is Officer Harris from the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department.”

“Do you have news? Where is Mikah? Is he okay?”

“Mr. Reed is okay—”

I blow out a sharp breath, my head falling back on my shoulders as tears sting my eyes. Holy fuck, he’s okay. He’s okay! My knees nearly give out.

“But this is never easy to say,” he adds.

“What?” I ask, my body going still.

“Mr. Reed was found safe, sir. But he’s requested that his whereabouts remain undisclosed.”

“I’m sorry, what?” I ask as my veins turn to ice.

The officer sighs. “I’m sorry, Mr. Blake. But Mr. Reed doesn’t want you to know where he is.”

My breath catches in my lungs. My chest is tight. I can’t fucking breathe.

“What? No. That can’t be. Something is wrong. He wouldn’t do that. He… someone must be telling him to say that. He’s in trouble,” I shout.

“I assure you, he is fine.”

“No. If he doesn’t want me to know where he is, then something is wrong . Someone is forcing him to be there against his will. He wouldn’t do that.”

“There’s nothing more I can say, Mr. Blake. I am sorry.”

“But I—”

“I’m sorry,” he says again, this time more firmly. “Have a good day.” He ends the call, and I’m staring down at my phone with bile in my throat.

“Are you the concerned neighbor?” I look up, blinking, my eyes blurry.

When did the police get next door? When did they get into the house?

I manage to nod, but can’t speak.

“Everything is good over here, sir. There is no cat in the house.”

“No cat?” I ask, my voice barely making a sound.

“No, sir. Whoever was here must’ve taken the cat with them when they left.”

“When they left?” I bark out, moving down the stairs as the officer heads toward his car. “What do you mean?”

He blinks at me, raising a brow. He jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “Whoever lived there, left. Clothes are gone. No food. He probably took the cat with him.”

“He was missing,” I say in disbelief.

The cop runs his hand over his chin. “I’m not really sure what to say about that, sir. Did you file a report?”

“Yeah, in Vegas,” I grit out.

He stares at me carefully, then nods. “I’ll look into it.” He pulls out his notepad. “Give me your info.”

I do, feeling numb the entire time. I can’t believe this is happening.

Before I know it, I’m standing in my driveway, absolutely alone.

Mikah left me and it seems he doesn’t have any intention of coming back. He left me and now I’m alone.