I had this chapter almost done, so I've finished it off. Thanks so much for all the kind words! This fic is a little out of my comfort zone, so I'm not feeling overly confident with it. I imagine the next chapter will take longer. Thanks so much for reading :)
STSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTST
Sonny eyed the clock. The game was starting in ten minutes, and Clay still hadn't rocked up.
Sonny had invited his little brother around as a distraction from the latest Ash-related drama; to get Clay's mind away from the hurt and betrayal - and, for himself, to prevent him from hunting Ash down and beating the shit out of him.
Snagging his phone, Sonny found Clay's number and hit dial. He'd already sent two texts, and the lack of response unsettled him.
Clay's phone rang out, going to voicemail.
Sonny drummed the fingers of his free hand against his kitchen counter top. "Goldilocks," he stated, after the beep. "Cutting it a bit fine, don't you think? I'll forgive you if you're still in bed, but only if she was worth it." He paused, stilling his fingers and curling them into a fist. "You've got ten minutes, okay? Turn up. Or call me back."
Sonny ended the call, threw his phone over to the couch.
It wasn't like Clay to be late. Most likely scenario was that the kid had slept in. They had all been spent yesterday afternoon when they'd got back from Haiti.
But the minutes ticked by, and with two minutes to spare until game time, Sonny couldn't shake his uneasiness
It was completely unfounded, of course. Clay probably had a very good reason for being late. The annoying little turd would probably waltz through the door right as the game started, teasing Sonny for his needless worry.
Once again, Sonny snagged his phone. Pressed dial. Listened as Clay's phone rang out and went to voicemail. Sighing, he waited for the beep. "Clay, you said you'd be here an hour ago. I haven't heard from you. You're not answering your phone, and I'm starting to get just a little worried here. Yeah, yeah, you can laugh at me later. Maybe I'm getting jittery in my old age. Just …" He chewed his lip. "Call me back, would you?"
Once again, Sonny ended the call.
The small seed of worry that had sprouted in his gut grew a little more. Clay had been looking forward to this morning. And as far as Sonny knew, the kid hadn't planned on heading out last night.
Sonny grabbed the remote, flicked the television on.
The last two minutes went by, and the game began.
Still no Clay.
Five minutes passed.
Then ten.
Sonny paced, unable to sit down. He took a beer from the fridge - but ended up putting it back again.
"Okay," he breathed, once the game had been running for fifteen minutes, grabbing his phone and repeating the process of calling Clay.
The phone rang out once again, which did nothing to settle Sonny's nerves.
Beep –
"Listen up, you little turd," Sonny growled, turning off the television and snagging his keys. "You can give me shit for this, once you actually call me back."
He yanked open his front door, hoping to see Clay there. But the corridor was quiet, and empty. He stepped out into it, locking his door behind him.
"I'm coming to you, most likely to drag your sorry ass out of bed." He stomped down the corridor towards the stairs. "We can finish watching the game at your place. But you'd better have beer."
He entered the stairwell, jogged down the stairs. "And you're ordering pizza." He nearly collided with one of his neighbors, coming around the landing. Muttered a quick apology. "And garlic bread," he added, descending the last flight.
Pulling the phone from his ear, Sonny paused before reaching the stairwell door. He ended the call and shouldered the door open.
He'd never been one to worry. Not when he was a kid. Not during his adult years.
Not until Bravo had adopted Clay Spenser.
Al-Qa'im had amplified that worry, Mumbai had built on it, and Manila had sent it out of the ball park. Sonny one hundred percent blamed the kid for his new-found anxiety. And right now, it was churning his gut, growing in intensity with every minute that Clay didn't return his call.
Climbing into his truck, Sonny made a mental note that he would most likely kick himself once he was at Clay's, and had found his little brother to be safe and well. He told himself he was being ridiculous.
But still, the bad feeling lingered, like a rock in his gut.
And Sonny found himself peeling away from his apartment, stepping on the gas a little harder than necessary, heading for Clay's.
STSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTST
The first thing Sonny noticed, as he pulled into the parking area outside Clay's apartment building, was his brother's car.
A small amount of tension dissolved within him, as he realized that Clay was here. Sonny allowed his worry to shift into apprehensive relief at the sight.
Throwing the truck in park, Sonny cut the engine. He would let go of the last of his uneasiness once he laid eyes on Clay, and knew for a fact that the younger man was alright.
He quickly closed the distance to the building, jogging up the stairs and into the dimly lit corridor. It was debatable whose apartment complex was more depressing; his, or his brother's.
Sonny came to a halt outside Clay's door, raised a fist, and knocked.
His ears pricked, listening for movement from within. But he heard nothing.
He knocked again, heartrate picking up.
Still nothing.
Fishing out his phone, he found Clay's number and hit dial, listening for the ringtone from inside the apartment.
Silence.
Sonny felt anxiety spark through his gut once again. He ended the call, chewed his lip.
Spinning around, he stepped towards Derek's door, hesitated, and then knocked.
There was the sound of a chain unlatching, and the door was opened.
"Hi Sonny," Trish greeted cheerfully, a little surprised. "Derek's not here, sorry. He's on base."
Sonny shifted uncomfortably. "Uh, that's okay. I actually just wanted to check if you still have a spare key to Clay's place?"
Trish furrowed her brow. Nodded. "Clay lock himself out again?"
Sonny tried not to laugh, wondering how many times that had happened. But his amusement didn't linger. "No," he stated soberly. "I haven't been able to get in touch with him. His car's out front, but he's not answering his door." He rubbed at his beard, fighting the feeling that he was overreacting.
Thankfully, Trish didn't question further. She ducked back into the apartment and returned a moment later with a single key on a metal ring.
Sonny muttered his thanks, accepted the key and unlocked Clay's door.
Trish hovered, expression concerned.
Sonny swallowed roughly as he entered the quiet apartment. His heart beat in his ears as he searched each room, calling for his brother.
But the place was empty.
"Perhaps he's out for a run?" Trish had moved to Clay's door, peering in. "Or out with a friend?"
Sonny shook his head, breathed a curse. "No," he stated. "He was supposed to be at my place more than an hour ago." He pulled his phone from his pocket, blinked at it. "He hasn't returned any of my calls."
Trish seemed to pick up on Sonny's anxiety. "Perhaps check with the other guys, ask if anyone's seen him? Perhaps he's out and his phone battery died?"
Sonny blew out a breath, gave a clipped nod. But he knew that it was unlikely – Clay was obsessive about keeping his phone charged. It was a job requirement, after all. Trish had to have known that. Sonny realized that she was probably just trying to make him feel better.
It wasn't working.
Sonny handed back the key, and they stepped out into the corridor. He pulled Clay's door locked behind him.
"I'll call you if he comes home," Trish offered.
Sonny squeezed a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Thanks," he said.
He walked back down the corridor towards the stairs, head suddenly spinning with possibilities – none of them good.
It was unlike Clay to just up and disappear.
Sonny quickened his pace, exiting the building and heading back towards his truck. The icy wind from yesterday lingered, continuing to snatch the last fall leaves from the trees, and rippling puddles left over from the recent rain.
Sonny snagged his keys, glanced towards Clay's car. Instinct made him redirect his steps to his brother's vehicle.
A glint of something metallic caught his eye from under the car, and Sonny's breath stuck in his throat. He hurried over to the object, dropping to his knees beside the car and feeling his heart stutter.
Clay's phone lay abandoned on the asphalt, mostly hidden by shadows.
Sonny held it in trembling fingers, blinking at the screen. His unread texts were there, his missed calls and voice messages.
The rock in Sonny's gut tripled in size.
He'd just known it – something had happened to Clay. His Spidey sense had been right, though he'd desperately hoped it had been wrong.
Forcing down his rising panic, Sonny checked around the car. But there were no other clues as to what had happened to his little brother.
With his heart in his throat, Sonny grabbed his phone, found Jason's number, and hit dial.
"Thought you were having a man date with Clay?" Jason's tone was irritated, voice husky with sleep. "This better be worth it. I was actually having a good dream, for once."
Sonny scrubbed a hand over his eyes, blew out a shaky breath. "We were supposed to be," he answered, words unsteady. "But he never turned up."
Jason began to suggest that Sonny should be calling Clay, not him.
But Sonny cut him off. "This is serious, Jace. He wasn't answering his phone, so I came to his place." He couldn't keep the panic from his tone. "He's not here. I found his phone on the ground under his car. I think …" The sentence trailed off, and Sonny swallowed roughly, darting his gaze around as if searching for some sign of Clay to prove him wrong. "I think something might've happened to him."
Saying it out loud - the admission physically hurt.
There was a beat of heavy silence, and then a clunk and a muffled curse from Jason's end of the line.
"Jason?" Sonny probed.
"Yeah," Jason replied, all traces of sleepiness gone. "Come straight here. I'll message the others."
Sonny could hear the sharp edges of his team leader's words. "Was kinda hoping you'd tell me I was overreacting," he muttered.
"Just get your ass over here," Jason said.
"Yep."
Sonny ended the call, pocketed his phone with unsteady hands.
He climbed into his truck, and sat for a moment, trying to catch his breath. He cast one last glance towards Clay's abandoned car.
"Where are you, brother?" he whispered, feeling his throat constrict.
He had a bad feeling about this.
STSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTST
Jason was out the front, ready and waiting when Sonny pulled up.
Bravo One's brow was pinched, his movements jerky. He approached the passenger side of the truck, opened the door and climbed in.
Once the door was closed again, he blew out a breath. "I've messaged the others and called Blackburn. None of them have heard from Clay or seen him since yesterday afternoon." He scrubbed a hand over his eyes, and then turned it, palm up, gesturing vaguely outside. "Is there anywhere he could've gone? Any logical explanation?"
Sonny bit his lip, shook his head. He'd run through every possibility he could think of. All signs pointed to Clay being taken – which was completely unacceptable, and baffling. Because it then begged the question of who had taken him.
"Blackburn suggested we head to base, meet there," Jason said. "He's getting Davis to liaise with local authorities, check hospitals, see if she can snag any security footage from around Clay's apartment."
Sonny threw the truck into gear, swung it around, and headed in the direction of the base. "Think we're overreacting?" He asked hopefully. Although deep down he already knew the answer.
Jason shifted in his seat, shook his head. "He may be a pain in the ass, but he's not careless. This isn't like him."
Sonny tightened his grip on the wheel. They were all in agreement then – Clay had not disappeared of his own free will.
Tense silence filled the cab, and Sonny tried, but failed, not to think of worst-case scenarios.
"Wherever he is," Jason muttered, as if to himself. "We'll find him."
Sonny met his team leader's gaze, noted the steady resolve there.
Jason's phone burst to life, and he frowned at the screen for a moment before answering. "Eric? Tell me you've found him."
Sonny's gut flip-flopped.
The conversation was brief. Jason bit his lip as he listened to whatever their commander had to say.
Once the call was ended, Jason darted a glance at Sonny, expression even more troubled than it had been previously.
"What?" Sonny prompted impatiently. "I don't like that look on your face."
Jason swallowed roughly, and his voice was slightly unsteady as he relayed what Blackburn had said. "Apparently, Ash Spenser didn't show up for his radio interview this morning."
Sonny felt a mixture of unease and anger flash through him at the mention of Clay's father.
"Nor did he check in for his flight to JFK that left half an hour ago." Jason rubbed at the crease between his brow, letting his hand come to rest over his mouth. He dropped the phone angrily into his lap.
"Are you trying to tell me," Sonny started, connecting the dots, "that both Clay and Ash are missing?"
Jason blew out a breath. Nodded slowly. "Appears that way."
Sonny couldn't help the string of curses that burst forth from him. "I swear to God, Jace, if that asshole has hurt him …"
"He's a dead man," Jason finished for him, tone frighteningly serious – gaze frighteningly blank.
"I will hunt him down, and string him up by his fucking gonads," Sonny continued, feeling himself beginning to shake with rage.
Jason didn't reply. Just stared straight ahead, his jaw working silently, shoulders rigid.
Sonny had known Jason a long time, and he knew … When Jason Hayes got that look - you'd better fucking run.
