Dammit, girl…
I climbed off the bed and went into the bathroom and dressing room, finding them both empty. Leaving the room, I headed down to her bedroom and swung the door open, but she wasn’t there, either. My heart pumped harder, and I bit the corner of my mouth to keep my nerves in fucking check.
Maybe she was in the ballroom.
I walked to the railing, about to head down the stairs but saw Crane move across the foyer.
“Where is she?” I demanded.
He stopped and looked up, meeting my eyes.
But then dropped them again.
“Fuck you, where is she?” I snapped.
“A car picked her up,” he told me, looking like he really didn’t want to. “She said she’ll be at St. Killian’s and back in a couple days.”
“And you let her leave?”
He closed his mouth, averting my eyes. Why the fuck did I hire extra security if he was just going to let her come and go like that?
“It wasn’t my impression she was a prisoner, sir,” he said.
“Was it your impression that I might eat ice cream out of your skull for not telling me she was going?”
He tightened his lips.
“Was she upset?” I asked. Do you know that at least?
“She seemed troubled, yes,” he answered. “Said she just wanted to have some space to think.”
Think.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. When women think, shit didn’t go the way I wanted it to.
What the hell was she doing? I did what Rika told me to do. Almost. I got to work on something. I brought in a crew, we tore down that fugly fountain and built the one I had designed and planned, working day and night for two days, so she’d find it and explore it and hopefully love it.
Getting the message that she’d be at The Cove last night gave me hope, but nothing prepared me for how she just let it happen. How she was already ready when I showed up and for the first time, she let me touch her, without a guise or a fight.
It was fucking incredible, and for a little while, it was like the years in between when we were kids and now had never happened. Nothing existed except us, especially all the bullshit in between.
It was kind of a date. I kept her clothes on. Most of them.
But every time the spell started to fade, she let all that other shit back into her head, and I was getting kind of fucking sick of losing her.
She may or may not love me.
But it was becoming clear. She didn’t want me.
“Sir?” Crane called out, sounding on alert.
I looked up, the door opened, and men, some I had and hadn’t seen before walked in, all in suits and some with gloves.
I closed my eyes, sighing. “Fuck,” I mouthed.
My father stepped over the threshold, dressed in a black suit with a gray shirt, his dark eyes looking up and finding me instantly.
He was trying to get a hold of me last night, and I blew it off. He always gave me a long leash, but if he had to snap it, it fucking hurt.
“What do you want?” I asked, descending the stairs.
“Do you care?” he replied. And then he looked around. “Where’s your wife?”
I held his eyes. My father’s strength hadn’t dissipated with age. Although graying, his skin growing more wrinkled, and his voice getting raspy from all the years of cigars, he still had a very healthy appetite.
For everything.
Especially for making sure he had control over all in his domain.
Unfortunately, I never went according to plan and never would. I might not be any better than him, but we weren’t the same, either.
He waited another moment, but when I didn’t answer, because I already knew that he knew Ari wasn’t here and his grandchildren weren’t getting made, he flexed his jaw and jerked his chin, gesturing to me.
“Take him,” he told his men.
What?
They rushed me, taking my arms, digging their fingers into my shoulders, and I thrashed, throwing them off and growling. “Get the fuck off me!”
I tore away, shoving one of them in the chest. “Son of a bitch!” I yelled.
One grabbed my wrist again. I whipped it away and threw a punch, but more came from behind, and I looked to Mr. Crane who was already being held back, looking angry and helpless.
Gabriel paid for the security. He paid for everything. As much as my own team wanted to do something, they wouldn’t.
The backs of my legs were kicked in, my knees buckled, and I fell, coming down to the floor. Three men held me down, keeping me on my knees, one with his grip on the back of my neck.
In front of me, my father crouched down.
“And where’s the sweet, little bitch who’s twisting your head?” he asked. “Where is she?”
Winter.
I was suddenly glad she wasn’t here. Michael and Rika were no match for Gabriel, but she was safer with them than anyone if I wasn’t there.
“Your life was going to be blessed,” Gabriel told me. “All the money and pussy you could ever want, and all you had to do was follow a simple instruction.” His voice was eerily calm. “It wasn’t even that hard.”
He stood up, and the muscles in my shoulders stretched with someone holding my wrists behind me.
“I should’ve shipped your ass to Blackchurch ages ago,” he said. “We can lock you up still, though, can’t we? Give you some time to think.”
And then his hand smacked across my face, the sting something I was very used to. I gritted my teeth together.
“And I have all the time in the world,” he threatened.
No.
What the fuck did he mean?
“Maybe in a few weeks you’ll come around,” he mused. And then to his men, “Bring him.”
A few weeks. What the fuck?
They stood me up, barefoot and shirtless, and tightened a zip tie behind my back.
Everyone started to walk out, and I looked over at Crane, jerking my chin, knowing he knew I was referring to Winter and the dog and that he needed to take care of things.
But as everyone left, and the man behind me held on to me, an arm suddenly coming around my neck as the guy in back of me whispered in my ear.
“An eye for an eye, motherfucker,” he said.
And then a pain hit my side under my ribs, digging into my flesh as some kind of small blade pierced my skin.
I grunted, immediately feeling the blood drip out as I shot my gaze over my shoulder, seeing the asshole who did it.
Miles Anderson.
The guy who had Winter in his car when she was sixteen. The guy who also attacked Rika the same Devil’s Night I did.
Fuck. He worked for my father now?
“A few weeks,” he lamented, “more than enough time for us to find her and have some fun.”
I thrashed, growling as the pain seared my skin.
“She’s been fun to mess with these past couple of weeks,” he said. “As we waited for Gabriel to give us the go-ahead anyway.”
“Motherfucker,” I muttered, seething.
It was him, fondling her in the theater bathroom. Him and his buddies who snuck into the house that morning.
We should’ve taken so much more than a tooth from his skull all those years ago, son of a bitch.
But before I had a chance to fight, he came around and shot his knee into my stomach, sending me doubling over and coughing to catch my breath. He stuffed something into my mouth, forced me out the door, and into the back of one of the SUVs as I tried to whip out of his hold, but pain shot through me every fucking time I moved.
Ironically, that wasn’t the first time I’d been stabbed on that same side. This felt deeper, though.
I hit the floor, coughing, and I looked around for my father, but he must’ve been in another car.
As the SUV took off, I just prayed Michael and Rika would come through.
Keep her safe. Don’t leave her alone.
I stumbled around my old bedroom, throwing open curtains and peering outside. I tried to open the windows, but they were bolted shut.
Fucking asshole. What was I? Ten?
The driveway in front of my father’s house glowed with electric lanterns and headlights of sporadic cars coming and going, while men paced in black suits, some with flashlights behind the tree line but every one of them with a walkie-talkie, I was sure.