So Rare (Boys of South Chapel #3)

8. Kabir

Chapter 8

Kabir

NOW

Hours pass, or maybe it’s only seconds. The boys haven’t stirred for some time. Even so, I keep my computer screen dim in an effort not to disturb them.

I’ve rearranged my schedule for the week—canceled media appearances and interviews—and I’ve given my staff instructions on how to proceed in my absence.

Gerald, who despite recognizing the conveniences of modern technology, has yet to respond to my texts. He reads the messages, he just won’t reply that way.

When I told him about Hunter’s disappearance—the lack of note or explanation or evidence that she left of her own accord—he started calling.

Over and over again, my phone lit up, silently alerting me to his concern. Though I can understand the fear, I can’t provide him with any more answers than I’ve already given him through text.

Spence: I’m not in a position to talk. I’ll call in a few hours.

To my absolute shock, and for the first time ever, he texts me back.

Gerald: Might I suggest I join you in the States, sir? I’d like to be helpful in any way that may serve you and Ms. St. Clair.

Bloody hell. The old curmudgeon’s down bad enough for Hunter to break his staunch no-texting rule. He hasn’t even seen her for a few years.

Spence: Let me find her first. Once she’s secured, I’ll send further instructions.

Then, because I don’t want to discourage him and I genuinely do appreciate his concern, I add…

Spence: Your support is very much appreciated, Gerald. It will galvanize me through this pursuit.

Gerald: Godspeed.

The niggling in my gut won’t settle. Hunter is gone, and she’s not okay. That, I know for sure.

She’s alive, and according to the information I’m receiving from her tracker, her vitals are strong.

Despite the very real situations in which she has broken down or not been herself in the past, I’m certain that what’s happening now is nothing like what she experienced back then.

This isn’t like London.

This isn’t her pattern.

Something’s not right.

Levi is the only one brave enough to voice it, but I believe his assumption is correct.

Magnolia took her.

Wherever our girl is, whatever she’s enduring, it’s at the hands of another person. She’s gone, but she didn’t leave.

We’re reeling without her, but we never had a choice.

None of us did.

Not even her.