“Where are you going now, you moody motherfucker? I’ve got shit for you to deal with in the office.”

“I’ll do it later. I’ll be in the gym.” I need to seriously work off some of this pent-up anger before I find Ava and bulldoze her. That won’t go down well. Gently does it. “Answer my fucking calls, then,” I snap to myself, dialing her again.

By two o’clock, I’m no less stressed but I’m fucking beat after killing myself in the gym for hours in between calling Sam, Kate, and Ava. And then like a bolt of lightning when I’m in the shower, I realize something must have happened to her. She’s been in an accident. Been hurt. That’s why she’s not answering my calls or messages, because she physically can’t. And that’s why Kate isn’t getting back to me too. She’s with Ava. My blood runs cold. My heart goes from zero to sixty in a nanosecond. I hear my phone ring, and I jump out of the stall in a mad panic.

And fall straight on my naked arse. “Fuck!” I yelp, slipping and sliding all over the tiles, trying to get to my phone. I stretch to reach it on the bench and flop down to my back, getting the screen in my view. “Sam,” I blurt. “I can’t get hold of Ava. I’ve been calling and messaging since yesterday. Have you—”

“Whoa, my man, cool it.”

My jaw grinds harshly. “Don’t tell me to cool it. She could be lying in a gutter for all I know. Have you spoken to Kate?”

“She’s here. At my place,” he says, somewhat gingerly. “Sorry, we just found all your missed calls.”

I balk, fighting my slippery body up onto the bench, unable to give Sam’s statement—a woman is at his place—the attention it deserves. “So she’s not seen Ava either?” I ask, my damn heart pounding painfully. “She doesn’t know if she’s okay?”

“I’ll get her to call her now.”

“Yes, do,” I growl. “And call me straight fucking back.” I look up when John breezes in, giving my naked, soapy form the once-over, looking over his glasses. “Don’t say a word,” I warn. “And pass me a towel.”

John silently reaches for a towel and tosses it at me, and I start rubbing myself down, ridding my body of the suds, my eyes on the screen of my phone, willing it to ring.

“Tell me why the fuck you look about ready to hit something?” he rumbles.