Page 15 of Vow of Vengeance (Destruction & Vengeance Duet #2)

thirteen

Declan

She puts Khan on speakerphone as we drive to Marissa's apartment, following the navigation to a tall building in the city.

His phone rings for what feels like forever, and I can feel Soren's panic rising as she worries that something is wrong with him too.

I'm just about to tell her to hang up when he answers the phone, huffing as if he’d been interrupted in the middle of a workout. "Ren?"

"Khan!" She sighs in relief at just the sound of his voice, but she doesn't let go of all the tension yet. "Is Marissa with you?"

"Why would she be with me?" Khan puzzles.

"When was the last time you talked to her?"

He lets out a heavy sigh, deciding it's best to just go along with Soren's interrogation.

"Yesterday, I think?" There's a shuffling sound as he messes with his phone, and then his voice sounds far away when he speaks again. "Yep. She texted me about the latest episode of Fickle Love. She said, and I quote, "Jeremy is a goddamn psychopath but he can get it."

A glance out of the corner of my eye shows me Soren is chewing her lip, lost in thought. "When was the last time you heard her voice though?"

"What?" He laughs. "Ren, what's wrong with you? You're acting strange."

"I'm worried about her. She hasn't called me in almost a week." Khan makes a noise of acknowledgement and Soren continues. "It's not like her, Khan. What if something's wrong?"

"You think maybe you're projecting?" Khan suggests.

"No." Soren's answer is firm. "No. I've been in a bad headspace, but this has nothing to do with that. She never would have left me to wallow in my pity party for this long if everything was fine."

Khan makes a sound like a laugh and then covers it with a cough.

Next to me, Soren bristles. "What?"

"Nothing."

Despite his attempt to brush it off, Soren picked up on something that he's not saying... and she isn't letting it go.

"What?" She demands again.

Her friend sighs dramatically as I turn into the apartment complex. "It's just... Well, have you ever considered that maybe she's just over your bullshit?"

My knuckles tighten on the steering wheel as I clench my jaw, not liking the direction he's headed. A glance at Soren shows me she's surprised by the words that just came out of his mouth.

"What?"

"I mean, it's always about you, Ren. And I get it, you've got a lot going on. You always do. But maybe she's tired of having to be the one to clean up your messes and put you back together time and again? I know I am."

Soren makes a noise of disbelief, something between a laugh and a sigh. I've already decided I'm going to hit this guy with a brutal right hook next time I see him for the general disrespect he's talking to my girl with.

"I love you," he explains, trying to backtrack.

Maybe he's realized by her silence that he was out of line.

Maybe he's just an asshole who's going to talk himself into a corner.

"But being your friend is exhausting. I mean, taking off with your boss to another country and fucking him without giving your friends any sort of heads up?

Could you really blame her if she just needed some space? "

She's silent, refusing to speak as I ease up to the entrance.

Summer Palms apartments seem like a reasonably safe place, with a guard stationed at the front entrance who asks us for our name and our purpose in being there before we could get in. We explain that we're going to check on Marissa, tell him the apartment number, and he waves us through.

"You're with him now?" Khan accuses after a long moment of silence.

"Yes." Soren glances at me. "What's it matter?"

"Nothing." Khan snaps. "Why are you taking him to Marissa's apartment?"

"To check on her." Soren snaps back, her eyes fixing on the building as I pull into a parking space. "I'll let you know what I find."

Khan's reply is cut off when she hangs up the call.

No sooner does she do that, than she swings her door open and steps out, scanning the parking lot as if she'll find her best friend just on her way to run an errand or something. And maybe she will. I don't know enough to say that Marissa isn't just dodging Soren for some reason.

"I don't see her car."

I want to tell her that maybe she just got busy and ran out for groceries or something. Maybe her lack of communication is because of all that she's had to take care of. But Soren is panicked, her mind running through worst case scenarios, and I'll do anything I have to in order to put her at ease.

That includes following her up the concrete steps to the second-floor apartment with a black doormat that says 'fuck off' in fancy script. I'd laugh if Soren didn't look like she was on the verge of a panic attack. She throws her fist against the door, knocking frantically.

"Marissa!" She calls, beating harder on the door like that will make her friend appear.

"Do you have a key?" I ask, eyeing the lock hopefully. I could probably call in a favor or two and get my assistant to send someone to unlock it, but even for me, that would take time that Soren doesn't want to lose.

"Yeah, at my house." She sighs. "I didn't think to grab it."

She hits the door again and winces at the impact on her fist.

"Here," I move her aside. "Let me."

I knock much louder than Soren, and rapidly enough that I'm convinced there's no way anyone is hiding out on the other side of the door dodging us.

"What the hell?" Someone asks, yelling to be heard above my hits.

I turn to take in a shirtless man standing in the doorway of the apartment across the hall. He looks like we've just woken him, despite the fact that it's the middle of the afternoon.

Soren whips around to face him, ready to fight until recognition must click for her. "Chik, right?"

"Uh, yeah," Chik looks Soren over, confused. "How'd you know?"

"I'm her best friend. Marissa's mentioned you." She explains hastily. "Hot neighbor across the hall."

I bristle at the term 'hot neighbor'. Chik looks like a high school burnout who'd live on the beach in a van if he could.

"You have a key, right? From when you house-sat for her when she was in Texas a few months ago?"

I expect him to say that no, he doesn't have a key. Instead, he thinks a minute before he seems to remember exactly what Soren's asking about. "Yeah, actually. I think I do. You need it?"

"I'm worried about her." Soren nods.

Chik turns without further hesitation, digging around in a bowl on his entry table.

I raise an eyebrow, wondering whether it's innocent or if those are leftovers from a party or two.

He pulls out a couple keys, some on rings and some loose ones, before he hands a single one across the distance to Soren. "This one."

It's a hot pink key with a kitten cover on top of it, and the fact that he has it makes me wonder how much Marissa trusts this guy and just how many people have a key to her apartment.

I guess I'll have to have a talk with her about personal safety.

Apartment complexes are such a perfect hunting ground for creeps, what with all the workers and neighbors and how anybody can say they're visiting despite the guard at the front.

I've wanted to tell Soren that her fear is unfounded, that she's overreacting, and she'll hear from her best friend soon, but now that we're here, I'm starting to have my doubts.

Soren doesn't even remember to thank him, snatching the key and turning around to let herself into Marissa's apartment. Chik stands in his door, watching us until I close Marissa's door behind us. I have some questions for Chik, but I'm not letting Soren explore the place on her own, just in case.

"Rissa!" Soren calls, as if her friend just didn't hear any of the previous knocking and calling.

If I thought Soren was a bit messy with her dirty coffee cups and strewn about clothing, Marissa's place tells me I was wrong. It's not exactly dirty, but it sure isn't clean. Apparently, Marissa must thrive in chaos, because this apartment makes no sense.

Stuff is everywhere. Deodorant on the kitchen counter, a pair of shoes at the sink, books stacked up on the couch. Soren must notice my shock because she gives me a panicked laugh.

"She works a lot . She cleans once a week, but the rest of the week, it's normal for it to look like this."

"Which day does she clean?" I ask, following her through the living room to the little hall.

The bathroom door is open, and when Soren turns the light on, it illuminates a small room with makeup scattered along the vanity top.

She hesitates a minute, swallowing before she pulls back the shower curtain to look down at the tub.

It's empty.

"Wednesdays."

I say nothing, not wanting to increase her panic. I don't know that this mess is from two days of normal living, which means Marissa may have missed cleaning her apartment this week. So then where is she?

Soren's apparent anxiety increases as we head for the bedroom, and I push in front of her to open the door before she can. I don't expect that her young, healthy friend is lying dead in her bed, but I can't take the chance. Soren doesn't fight me, gripping the back of my shirt for support.

When I open the door, it's to another empty room.

The full bed is made, one little corner of tidiness among the absolute explosion in the rest of the room. Clothes, shoes, bottles of lotion and aspirin and water clutter the tops of her dresser.

"Fuck." Soren sighs, pushing around me to walk into the room like she may spot something of note in there. The closet door is open, but it's so full that there's not a chance anyone is hiding in there.

There's a window that's still latched behind her bed, and no signs of something being amiss.

I don't even know what that would look like, since I don't know Marissa well enough, but I can deduce the obvious.

Except, there is none of the obvious. No signs of a struggle, no blood, no food left uneaten on the counter.

Other than her clutter, there's nothing.

I leave Soren raking her hands through her hair and return to the living room, checking the sliding glass door.

It's locked, and when I open it to step onto a small terrace, there's only a large chair and an end table with an empty wine glass on it.

I'm just locking it behind me again when Soren throws the front door open, rushing to Chik's apartment and practically beating the door down.

"Open up, Chik!" She calls.

And he does, blinking like he's trying to push off the dregs of sleep.

“'Sup?" He yawns, glancing behind her to me.

"When was the last time you saw her?"

Chik rubs his blonde beard; it's barely more than a five-o clock shadow, but he strokes it with his palm anyway as he thinks. "What day is it?"

"Friday." I say, feeling like the only functional adult around here. We're in a lot of trouble if it's up to me to be the functional one, but I don't say that out loud.

"Sure it's not Thursday?"

"Positive."

"Hmm." He frowns. "Uh, I don't know. I guess Monday, maybe? She was coming home same time as me. I invited her for a drink, but she said she was tired."

Soren stares at him hard, and I understand her suspicions.

"Can I come inside?" She asks, suddenly.

I turn to her, surprised.

I'm not the only one.

Chik looks confused by the request, clearly not having gotten the hint that Soren thinks something nefarious has happened to her best friend, and that he's her only suspect at this point.

"Uh, yeah." Chik grins, stepping aside.

Soren doesn't hesitate, pushing past him to gain entry to his apartment.

Unlike Marissa's, Chik's apartment isn't just cluttered. It's messy, too.

A box of pizza is open on the counter, a two liter of soda without the cap lying on it's side, plastic cups everywhere.

I follow closely behind Soren as she heads straight for the bedroom, ripping back the covers to find two girls in the bed.

They groan and glare at her, offended by the wake-up call.

Neither of them are Marissa, and neither is the guy taking a piss in the bathroom or the couple on the couch or the figure passed out on the porch patio.

"Want a drink?" Chik asks, clearly not having realized we were here just to look for Marissa. "I've got all the things. I have harder stuff, too."

"No." I answer before Soren can, grabbing her by the back of the neck and guiding her to the door. "Thanks for your help, Chik."

"Anytime." Chik shrugs.

I don't bother giving him the key back, slipping it in my pocket as I guide Soren back to the hall. She fixes me with a desperate look; I can feel her frustration in the air, see it in her eyes.

"We have to go file a missing person's report."

Reporting Marissa as missing might be the best solution, but I don't want to go wait around at the station for some underpaid bitch who answers phones all day to tell us we have to wait twenty-four hours.

I can do one better.