Fucking. Hard.—to sound patient and coherent. But it was after six a.m. and he’d spent three hours driving to Jordan’s condo in St. Louis and back. He’d yet to make contact with her. He figured if anyone knew where she’d gone, it would be Bahan. When he called, Bahan confirmed that Jordan was safe but refused to tell him where to find her. If he could have reached through the phone and strangled Bahan with the man’s own dick, he would have. The sun was coming up, and he was almost back in Titus, but his patience had bottomed out about five miles back. Blake promised to call back with the information Ty had asked for, but now he was playing twenty questions before handing it over. “I have the list of names, but I’m not giving it to you until you tell me why I’m giving it to you,” Blake said. “Look,” Ty said. “I received a tip. It’s probably nothing. I’m just dotting i’s and crossing t’s.
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