“It seems like the FBI would already have a lot of the information you’re asking Kairi and Erik to find.”

“Maybe. But the FBI follows rules. Arrow’s objective is to find Sophia.”

“I thought Jack gave you complete access to everything.”

“He gave us some top-level stuff. But Erik’s behind the firewall. He’s digging in places Jack probably doesn’t know exist. We’ll see if he finds anything. My theory is Jack has been playing in the sandbox with the wrong unsavory character. We’ve just got to pick up a trail.” He checks his wrist. “Now I’m hungry. And if I remember correctly, you promised me a dinner date.”

Sophia has been missing for five days. In the world of missing persons cases, that’s not a good thing at all. Her blonde hair and happy sapphire eyes haunt me, because those eyes were so happy, and now I can only imagine how terrified she must be. And we’re in essentially the same place as we were on Tuesday. Without a single proper lead.

Getting dressed and going out for a night on the town feels wrong. I mean, there isn’t much more we can do until the meeting tomorrow. But there’s a heavy weight holding me down.

Picking up on my reluctance, Ryan says, “We can order in? Four a.m. is going to come around early.”

“You’re getting up at four?” The man’s workout schedule is bonkers.

“I’ll want to get a run in before we head out. When are you planning to drop off your dog?”

“I’m not sure.”

Ryan picks up his phone and texts. Waits. Reads a response and sets it down.

“Stella and her son Ethan are spending nights at Trevor’s condo. He likes for them to stay there when he’s out of town. His condo is right beside me. Why don’t you come back to my place tonight? Stella and Ethan can easily take care of Trace. Even if we end up staying the night.”

“You’re just assuming we’re spending the night together?” I pull back, twisting on the sofa to get a better look at him. He tugs gently on the hair still tangled in his fingers.

“Yeah, I am.” He lifts me like I weigh nothing and positions me on his lap, one of my thighs beside each of his. “This is a shit case. It’s one of those that brings you down.” His thumb caresses my cheek. “A little comfort is a good thing.”

His eyes don’t feel so icy from this angle, with me straddling his lap, gazing down at him from above. My thumb traces his thick eyebrow. The contrast of his black hair, thick eyebrows, and jet-black eyelashes against those light blue irises stuns. The pad of my thumb continues down to his sharply defined jaw, the stubble sprouting below his cheekbone, the dip in the center of his chin, hovering over the location of the smallest dimple that evades detection most of the time. He’s so gorgeous, his manly beauty hurts. He only softens at specific angles. When he feels safe and when he can drop his guard. It’s ironic that a man so physically powerful builds walls to guard himself.