Lauren's POV
"Have you heard from Trevor?"
I question Dubois as I chug down a bottle of water. I'm still hot as fuck from our intense golf game. James was drinking and it affected his game. He ended up beating the shit out of the golf cart with an expensive club. I didn't stop his stupid ass. I let him do it and secretly hoped some onlooker got him on video. A video like that would really help his presidential campaign—take a nosedive, that is.
Dubois is on his laptop at the small table in the room adjacent to the master in the penthouse suite. I'd come in here first before going to Camz. He looks up from his screen and his lips press into a firm line.
"Ma'am, Glenna and Jamal haven't seen or heard from him. He's totally gone off the grid. But, without your constant funnel of money he'd been taking, I don't think he can do much or go far. Give me some time and I'll find out where he is."
Dubois seems more on edge and I scowl at him.
"What's wrong?"
His eyes widen in surprise. I've known the man for nearly two decades. I know when something bothers him. Just like he's been weird about Bunny, he's being fucking weird now too.
"She told me not to call you but . . ."
Rage explodes from within as a million horrible things flip through my mind.
"But what? What the fuck is going on?"
I'm already stalking out of the room toward the master bathroom with Dubois hot on my heels.
"Ma'am, something happened. I can assure you, I'm on it. I'll figure out what it was and . . ."
The knob is locked and I slam my fist against the door.
"Camila! Let me in!"
Dubois is nervously chattering behind me but all it takes is a furious glare at him to shut him up. He wisely leaves the room.
"Camila!"
I'm about to kick in the goddamned door when the lock clicks and the door swings open. My rage simmers a bit to see Bunny looking like a fucking knockout. She's done her makeup dark, around her eyes but not in a whorish way—more like a runway model kind of way. A tight, short black, sleeveless dress hugs her gorgeous curves and she wears black stilettoes that make her much taller. Her dark hair has been straightened and hangs around her face in front of her shoulders.
"Jesus," I hiss out. "You look fucking amazing, woman."
Her pouty lips draw up into a forced smile and I clear the lust-filled thoughts from my head to focus on what's wrong. They're both acting so damn strange.
"What happened?" My demand is a low growl.
"Um, I," she whispers, "didn't have the lanyard on."
The wobble in her voice—filled with pure terror—infuriates me. If someone touched one single strand of hair on her head, I'll kill them.
"What happened?"
"They, uh, thought I was free game. Roughed me up a bit."
My vision goes black with rage. I storm from the bathroom and sling a lamp from a desk along the way. It crashes somewhere in the room but I don't stop to inspect the damage. With fisted hands, I charge to where Dubois paces in the other room. I shove him the moment I see him and he hits the floor hard.
"Why the fuck did you not call me?" I roar. "Who the fuck hurt my woman?"
Dubois babbles on about shit. He'll search the surveillance tapes. Shit like that. I don't give a goddamn what he's talking about.
