“He’s brilliant. Glad he can help. He also has a team with all kinds of coding skills, so we can utilize them if he thinks it’s necessary.”
“Speaking of which, he and Tinsley were supposed to be here working today. Where are they?”
“Good question. I was late this morning. One of our companies was bought by Cloud Source, so this place is crazy.”
I look out over the offices, and everyone is standing and social. I haven’t been here a lot, but it hits me that this most likely isn’t the norm. “I suspect they’ve gone someplace quiet to work—which would not be here today.”
I pull my phone out and text Tinsley.
Me: Hey, I’m at SHN. Where are you?
I don’t see a response. I’m still glancing at my phone over and over again when Dillon, the finance partner, comes into Mason’s office. We shoot the shit for roughly an hour, but still no text from Tinsley.
What could she be doing? Could something be wrong?
Cameron’s married—and I believe happily—but why isn’t she responding to me?
Tinsley’s beautiful and smart. He’d better be keeping his hands to himself.
Where the fuck is she?
I can’t stall any longer, so I stand. “Well, my break is over. I need to see if Gage and his team are making any progress.”
We shake hands, and I head downstairs.
Maybe they’re at my place, and we just passed one another?
I ask Greg to drop me at home. I wave to Dee as I enter the building and take the elevator upstairs. I’m pleasantly surprised not to see Tiffany. Good. Maybe she’s gotten the hint.
I find my dad sitting on a chair in my living room with his feet up and a newspaper in hand. “Hey, did Tinsley come back?”
“Nope, I’ve been here alone all morning. Your mom is due back in…” My dad looks at his watch. “Fifteen minutes ago, which means she’ll be here in fifteen. We’re meeting that guy down at the marina at one.”
I nod and walk back to Tinsley’s room. She isn’t there.
Where is she?
Me: Where are you?
Maybe Claire knows where she is.
Me: Have you talked to Tinsley this morning?
Claire: No. How are things with the router going?
Me: Not as well as I’d hoped. I sent everyone home to work since they keep stopping and restarting the Wi-Fi.
Claire: Mom has left to meet Dad. I was going to head over to the office and check in.
Me: I’m heading back myself.
My dad begins to tell me about the boat he’s going to look at. “It’s ideal for racing with a crew of four. It can accommodate six on a coastal cruise and eight on day trips.”
“How will you get it home? Sail or transport?”
“It has a double berth and single berths on either side of the keel box, so your mom can easily have her own space. There’s a small galley with a hob and icebox, chemical toilets, and an electric pack combined with solar panels. Those make the yacht fully autonomous. We could easily make it in about six weeks of casual sailing. It would be great.”
I blanch internally. My mother is not a huge fan of sailing. She’s okay with the occasional day trip around the islands, but she hated when my dad talked her into a trip around Vancouver Island a few years back. That was five days on the water. Six weeks would probably land them divorced. I’m not going to get involved.
The entire time my father is talking, I keep wondering where Tinsley is. When my mother arrives, I kiss her on her forehead and leave to return to the office. I text Jim.
Me: Do you know where Tinsley and Yolanda are?
The few moments it takes Jim to respond seem like forever.
Jim: They’re at Cameron Newhouse’s place in Pacific Heights.
They’re at his house?
I breathe in a few times to get my bearings. Why didn’t they go back to my apartment or somewhere public? And why isn’t she getting my texts? I swear, I’m going to kill Cameron. He may be bigger than me, but I have no problem playing dirty when it comes to my woman.
My woman?
What. The. Fuck. Where is this coming from?
I thank Jim and ping Tinsley one more time. I get nothing. That’s it. I’m going over there. Nothing’s going to stop me.
I call Stan as I head downstairs, and when I arrive, he’s at the curb and ready to go. We drive across town. I hardly notice the people on the streets, the other cars, taxis, or buses. I hope Tinsley’s okay. I don’t know what I’ll do if she’s in the hospital. Why wouldn’t Cameron have called to tell me if something happened? Is the battery on her cell phone dead? I rub my hands over my face. Can’t we get there any faster?
The Suburban is hardly at a stop when I’m out of the car. Cameron’s house is part of some group of modern row houses—elegant, light taupe stucco and all the accents. The garage door, gates, shutters, and trim are black. I’m ready to pound on the door when Stan comes running up.
“You’re at the wrong home, sir.”
I look at him, my hand inches from banging on the door.
“Thanks.” I back away and walk around to the correct driveway. I’m too worked up. I take the time to collect myself. What am I doing?
Once my heartbeat is at a reasonable level, I knock on Cameron’s door. One of Jim’s guys answers and lets us in.
I see Cameron first. He comes over and shakes my hand, all smiles. “I think we had a breakthrough in how to improve the lag
