The Love You Crave

John Locke
Prologue

When Callie Carpenter's cell phone vibrated on her nightstand a single time she leaped out of bed and threw on some clothes.

“What’re you doing?” said Gwen, her bedmate.

“I’m on alert.”

“What’s that mean?”

Callie raced to the bathroom, relieved herself, brushed her teeth, grabbed her car keys.

“It means Creed might need me. If he does, he’ll call back. If he does, he’s in trouble. If he is, I could be in trouble.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“Not on your life.”

“You can’t stop me!”

“Get real,” Callie said.

“What about me?” Gwen said, pouting.

“What about you?”

“I want to feel useful.”

Callie sighed. “Go to the guest bedroom. Set out a scarf, a vibrator, and five random items. Doesn’t matter what they are, as long as they fit on the counter.”

“Why?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

“Where are you going?”

“To the car. I need to be on the street, engine running, ready to roll.”

“Sounds like that man has you wrapped around his little finger.”

“Don’t start with me.”