Retrieval (The Retrieval Duet #1)

“I did,” she replied cautiously, “but he didn’t answer.”


My mouth dried. “Has…” I cleared my throat when the emotion prevented me from finishing. “Has he ever done this before? The not showing up thing?”

She shook her head. “No. He’s usually here early. Let’s just say Maxine was not excited to be called into work this morning to cover for him. She closed up last night after a full day of back-to-back clients…”

She continued to talk, but my ears were ringing, which left me unable to focus.

Please, God, don’t let this be happening.

“Can you try to call him again? It’s an emergency. I need to talk to him,” I choked out. To make sure he isn’t dead.

She frowned, eyeing me warily, but picked the receiver up and started to dial. “Sure,” she drawled.

Please pick up. Please, just let him pick up.

I never tore my eyes off her as she did her best to avoid my gaze.

After a few seconds, she shook her head and hung up. She offered me a tight smile.

Oh my God.

It was not a coincidence that, only days ago, he’d met Walter Noir and, now, he was missing.

Fear and guilt mingled in the acid that replaced the blood in my veins.

Walt’s words from that morning flashed into my mind. “There are men out there who think they can put their hands on my wife and still wake up breathing.”

Men.

Not man.

Not just Roman.

And not just because I’d felt threatened.

Luke.

Because he’d cared. Walt must have sensed it when he’d stormed into the office.

Oh my God. He’s gone.

“Clare!” I heard yelled.

Then, all at once, the Earth dropped out of orbit, taking me with it.

My knees gave out. The darkness closed in. My life flashed on the backs of my lids. My last thoughts were of Tessa. My only instinct still in tact was to protect her. As I hit the floor with a crash, she landed squarely on top of me, secured in my arms—the only place she was ever safe.

I was vaguely aware of voices clamoring around me and then Brock storming in.

But all I could see was the blood of innocent men pooling around me.





After the cops had come and gone, Elisabeth and I had packed a few bags and the dog and headed for a hotel. The sun was starting to rise by the time we arrived. And, though we were both exhausted, adrenaline having burned through whatever rest we’d gotten, sleep wasn’t going to be found.

Before our bags were even on the floor, I was on the phone with Heath’s contact, Leo James. Elisabeth was listening with her mouth hanging wide open as I filled him in on all things Walter and Clare Noir. I wasn’t far into the story when she began to tremble. I wrapped her in my arms, her heart thundering so hard that I could feel it in my chest.

Leo did not delay in telling me that he and a group of his men were catching the first flight down to Atlanta. It made me feel marginally better, but judging by the terror on Elisabeth’s face, she did not share the sentiment.

When I hung up, she was plastered to my front and staring up at me expectantly.

“It’s okay. Just breathe,” I told her.

“She looks like me?” she squeaked.

I smiled and brushed the hair off her neck. “She’s yours, baby. No question about it.” I took her face between my palms. “We have a daughter, Lis.”

“Oh God,” she whispered.

“It’s okay,” I repeated, kissing her forehead. “Now that we know who they are, things should be easier. We’ll have our attorneys petition the courts. See about getting the DNA then ultimately custody—”

She jerked in my arms. “Excuse me?”

“It’s going to be time consuming, but I’ll stop at nothing, Lis.”

“We aren’t taking that baby from her,” she announced, stepping out of my grasp.

This time, I jerked. “Come again?”

“Roman, we aren’t snatching that child away from the only mother she’s ever known. Especially if what Heath told you was true and Clare’s a victim in all of this too.”

“Yeah, baby. She’s a victim, but I saw her. You cannot help someone who doesn’t want to be saved.”

“You probably just scared the shit out of her, Roman! Some man shows up at my house. Grabs me in front of my child. I wouldn’t be real keen to jump in his car, either.”

“Maybe. But I tried. And she screamed for the man who beats the shit out of her. That does not say scared to me. That says fucking lost.”

She flinched. “We can’t just storm in there and strip the child from her arms. As a mother, I would never be able to live with that.”

I released her and made my way over to the pile of shit we’d brought with us. I dug through it until I found what I was looking for then headed back to her.

Lifting Heath’s picture of a battered Clare Noir in her direction, I said, “He does that to her.” I dropped it to the floor then lifted another. “And that.”