them for years. She’d hurt her family enough with her rebellion, her stubbornness, her rash decisions to last them a lifetime. No. Asking her family to bail her out again was not an option.
Her gaze drifted to the broken pieces of her phone, and a deep, caring voice filtered through her memory. Okay, don’t worry. We’ll figure this out together.
Gage. Her heart squeezed as her best friend’s face swam in her mind’s eye. His crooked smile, his puppy-dog brown eyes and scarred chin, courtesy of his abusive father. Gage had been her best friend since eighth-grade drama class. She’d taken drama because it gave her a creative outlet. He had been in the class because of a scheduling mix-up. But his handiness with tools and woodcraft proved valuable in building sets, so he’d stayed in the class.
Zoey, ever the extrovert, had struck up a conversation with the quiet, gangly stagehand and been drawn to his quirky sense of humor. Later, as their friendship deepened and bonds of trust formed, she’d learned his humor was a shield that hid a home life she wouldn’t wish on her enemies. The Bancroft home had become Gage’s sanctuary, his escape when his home life was at its toughest, and Gage had become Zoey’s safe harbor when she felt adrift, struggling to live up to the high-water mark her sisters set and always falling short. When her wanderlust after graduation had grown wearisome, she’d returned home and found Gage waiting for her, willing to forgive her rash disappearance from his life after one life-changing night that had shaken her to the core …
Gage shrugged his shoulder in an uncomfortable contortion to keep his cell phone against his ear, waiting for the bank representative to take him off hold, while he poured a bowl of raisin bran for Pet and doused it with milk.
Pet curled her lip in disdain. “What’s that?”
“Supper. Eat.”
“I don’t like it.”
“You haven’t tried it.” He shoved the milk back into the refrigerator and shifted his cell to a more comfortable position. Elevator music droned in his ear.
As soon as it was clear Zoey wasn’t going to answer her cell, Gage had called the police department in Las Vegas, hoping to send the cavalry to her rescue. But not having an address to give them, there was nothing they could do. Plan B meant finding Zoey himself. Whatever it took. And fast.
“It has raisins. I’m ‘lergic to raisins.”
“You’re not allergic to raisins.”
“Am so.”
“Are not. Eat.”
“I don’t want this. I want chicken nuggets,” Pet grumbled and poked out her lower lip.
Gage gritted his teeth and battled down his growing frustration. He refused to lose his temper with Pet. She wasn’t the reason for his agitation or the acid gnawing his stomach. His worry over Zoey and his inability to get in touch with her was his chief aggravation at the moment.
“We’re out of chicken nuggets, and I’m not making mac and cheese again. You need vitamins.” He tapped the cereal box. “See here? This says it’s fortified with vitamins. It’s healthy.”
“Ice cream’s healthy. It has milk.”
“You can’t—”
“Sir?” the bank employee said as she came back on the line. “We’re not allowed to disclose private financial information, even to family members. I’m sorry.”
Shooting his niece a warning look, Gage aimed a finger at the bowl of raisin bran as he paced out of the kitchen. “But this is an emergency. I’m not looking for account numbers or balance information, I just need to know where Zoey Bancroft might have made ATM withdrawals or credit-card purchases in the past couple days. Are there any motel charges?”
“I’m sorry, sir. I can’t give out that information.”
Gage pinched the bridge of his nose. He was losing valuable time arguing bank policy with the woman. “All right, all right. Thanks anyway.” Thanks for nothing.
He thumbed the disconnect key, and his shoulders sagged. He was getting nowhere, while somewhere in Las Vegas, Zoey was alone, pregnant, broke and quite possibly in danger.
He had to act. He couldn’t sit here and wait for word from her that might never come. Already nearly an hour had passed since her call.
Riley Sinclair owed him a couple days from the last time Gage had covered Riley’s shifts at the fire station. If he could—
“Yuck!” Pet shouted from the kitchen. “Raisins are gross!”
Damn. Even if he could get the time off, what was he supposed to do with Pet?
Another firefighter at the station, Cal Walters, had referred him to a babysitter that he used on the days he worked. Because his schedule at the fire station meant he was gone overnight, his sitter, Rani Ogatini, was used to extended stays with Pet.
“Uncle Gage!”
He pulled his address book out of a stack of bills on his desk and flipped through it, looking for Rani’s number. “We don’t have anything else until we go to the store. Eat the cereal.”
Pet gave a theatrical groan of discontent. Drama queen. Like someone else he knew.
Except this time. He’d heard real fear, real misery, real desperation in Zoey’s voice when she’d called.
Zoey needed him. Now. Time to act.
Punching Rani’s number into his cell, Gage set his plan in motion.
Zoey curled into a ball on the bed at the emergency shelter and tried to shut out the noise from the street. She’d cried so much in the past twenty-four hours that she’d wondered if her contacts might float away. Then she’d be blind as a bat on top of everything else. Her stomach growled, even though she’d had breakfast in the shelter’s dining hall. The baby apparently needed to be fed every two hours or her hunger and nausea returned. She’d gone out earlier today looking for a job—anything she could do for a few weeks, until she could earn enough money to get back to Lagniappe—but found nothing. She’d called to have her Visa account canceled so that Viper couldn’t run up charges on it, and because of her shaky credit history, a new account would take up to three business days to be approved. She was flat-broke until then.
Knowing Viper could come back to the motel room at any time and knowing she needed food and shelter, for her baby if nothing else, she’d swallowed her pride and headed to the address for an emergency-aid shelter she’d seen at a bus stop. Per the rules of the shelter, she could stay only two nights before finding another place to stay. But for at least one more day she had a place to regroup, a base from which she could look for work and a kitchen where she could get a hot meal. A charity shelter felt like a last resort, but because of her baby, she knew she needed nourishing meals and safe housing. She had that here. For now.
When she thought of going home, her tail between her legs, hoping her father would forgive her foolishness, a bubble of wounded pride swelled in her chest. Admitting she’d been wrong about Derek hurt. Letting her family see how low she’d sunk grated. But like the prodigal son of the Bible, if she didn’t find a job soon, she’d have to dig up some humility and face the I-told-you-sos. For her baby.
