Playing With Fire (Previously Burning The Bad Boy) (UNDER RECONSTRUCTION)

{23} How To Find A Bad Boy

My fingers trembled around the slip of paper, forcing me to drop it. I watched in float to the ground in absolute silence, my eyes slowly shifting to my scenery. Everything except my diary remained intact, as if someone had come into the apartment with a set agenda.

I cautiously made my way down the hall, peeking into Damon's room seconds before stepping in. The only sign of entry in the room was the middle drawer of Damon's nightstand sitting open. My heart sped up at the sound of the floorboard creaking, my hand grasping the knife tighter in my hand as I whirled around and swung. A hand caught my wrist in mid-air and forced me to drop it.

"Okay, McKenzie. You seriously need to chill, it's just me." Ryder was staring down at me with a quizzical look. "Now tell what the hell you're doing here."

"I came to see Damon." I admitted. "But he's gone and I don't know where he is."

Ryder ran a hand through his thick, dark hair, eying Damon's room skeptically. "When was the last time you saw him?"

"This morning." I looked toward the open front door.

"Did he give any indication he wasn't going to be here? A call, a text, anything?" Ryder went on, checking his own phone.

I checked the spare room for any chance he may have been hiding out in it, but the room was just as empty as it had been the first time I was here. Leaning into the door frame, my eyes fell on the cracked window, heart sinking.

If Craig had gotten a hold of Damon, that meant that they were likely still close by keeping an eye on me, not having any idea of what Damon may have said.

"Damon's family, what's their address?" I asked, shooting Ryder a quick look.

He scratched the back of his head. "I don't think he's with his family, McKenzie."

"I don't either." I straightened out, "But they might have some sort of idea as to where he might be."

Ryder still looked hesitant. "Look, I don't think-"

"Ryder, I need you to either drop me off there or give me their addresses." I snapped. "If you can't help me, then please go home. I don't want you to get hurt."

He gripped my shoulder, "McKenzie, I need you to tell me what Damon got himself mixed up in this time."

"I can't, Ryder. You don't understand." I met his dark eyes. "The less you know, the less likely you are to be dragged into it."

"McKenzie." he started to give in.

"Ryder." I responded just as sternly.

Finally, he broke down and grabbed my phone, his fingers darting across the keyboard. "Here's there address and my number. Please be careful, McKenzie."

*

I waited in the lot for a few minutes before slowly pulling out, keeping an eye on my mirrors to ensure I wasn't being followed. At one point, I even pulled along the side of the road to be absolutely positive. When I finally slowed along the curb outside the Fox manor, I stared at the Victorian style building for a few moments.

I was about to talk to the family that had pretty much abandoned Damon and left him to fend for himself. Letting me know if they had any idea where he used to run away too would be the least they could do.

I kept an eye over both shoulders as I hurried up the driveway. When I reached the front porch, I pressed the door bell repeatedly, hoping it would annoy them enough to answer the door right away. A middle aged man opened the door, greeting me with an irritable look. It was startling how much Damon resembled hm. They shared the same sharp jawline and pointed nose, the same bright, piercing blue eyes that peered into your soul. The man cleared his throat, tightening the white robe he wore.