“I told you earlier that I care about you. And I meant that,” I say. “I care about you a lot, actually. And the only thing I want is to see you happy. To see you live your life and enjoy it. Whether that involves me or not.”
I don't expect her to feel the same way in return. While it would be nice, I don't wait for a response from her at all before I continue.
“Set up a meeting for me with your father tomorrow morning,” I say. “I can meet him in his office or wherever he's most comfortable. We're going to figure this out, the two of us.”
Holly reaches across the table and takes my hand in hers. A small smile lights up her face, and tears shimmer in her eyes once again. This time, however, I know these are tears of joy and not sadness.
“Thank you,” she says.
We go back to our meals, and I’m eating another mouthful of steak when Holly looks up at me.
“I care about you too, by the way,” she says and gives me a mocking grin. “I also care about you a lot.”
That's when I decide that the annulment is off the table. At least for now. It's leverage. He can’t force her to marry someone else if she’s married to me. Maybe that’s not what Holly had intended on happening, but it’s the plan now.
There is no way in hell I’m going to let her be reduced to a bargaining chip in her father's sleazy games.
ooo000ooo
As much as I want Holly to come back to my hotel with me, I know she needs to go to her father's house. She's going to find out when he's free for me to stop by for our little chat in the morning. I want it to be as early as possible.
I'm planning to stop by his office, but I want to make sure he's going to be there. Not that he will be expecting me. Holly can't really tell her dad, “Hey, by the way, I got married in Vegas and my husband is stopping by to chat.”
No reason for him to know I'm coming. It’s probably better if he doesn't, actually. Better to catch him unsuspecting and off-guard. I'm more likely to get truthful answers that way.
I get to my hotel and shower, rinsing off all the day's worries and concerns. I check my phone as soon as I get out. Nothing yet. I put on a pair of boxers and brush my teeth and check my phone again. Still nothing.
I fear she's ghosting me again. Maybe she really is a damn good actress and I've been taken for a fool. Again. Not that I believe it this time though. Not really. I trust her even though, logically, I shouldn't. She's given me no reason to trust her. And yet, I do, all the same.
I'm lying in bed with the TV on National Geographic, watching it on mute and barely paying attention, when my phone finally rings. I snatch it up and answer it right away.
“I'm just leaving dad's now,” she says. “He's going to be in the office at seven tomorrow morning, and knowing him like I do, he's not going to have a meeting until well after nine, if at all.”
“I'll be there waiting for him at six forty-five then,” I respond.
She's quiet for a long time, and I suspect the line got dropped until I hear her breathing on the other end of the line.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“Yeah, I just – I still don't know why you're doing this, Brayden,” she says.
“I already explained myself.”
“But really, you don't have to get involved,” she argues. “I feel bad for dragging you into this mess. This isn't your problem. It's mine. And I'm the one who needs to sort it out.”
“Don't feel bad, and don't apologize. Also, while you're at it, stop worrying about,” I say. “Whether you like it or not, I'm involved because I care about you, Holly.”
“I care about you too,” she says softly.
“Are you almost to your car?” I ask. “How far away from your dad's place did you park?”
On the screen, a lion consumes its prey, tearing the gazelle apart with such vicious force, I cringe and turn off the television. Not that I'm squeamish about the sight of blood, usually, but the terrified look on the gazelle's face as it goes down fills me with a sorrow for the animal that I don't want to deal with right now.
“Holly?” I ask.
Her response comes in the form of a scream. She cries out my name, “Brayden!” and the phone crashes down onto something – probably the pavement. My first instinct is that she's fallen. But, then I hear voices in the background. Spanish is peppered in with English, and I can't make out exactly what they're saying. Holly's responses, however, paint a not-so-pretty picture.
“Fuck you,” I hear her scream out.
Then her voice is muffled and there's the sound of feet shuffling. It sounds like a struggle is happening and I'm standing there, getting dressed before I even realize it. It's like I'm moving on instinct. Pure instinct.
I don't dare say a word into the phone though, not wanting to give myself away. I'm the only help she has. I have the address of her father's house, and my instinct is telling me she can't be all that far from there.
I rush out of the hotel room and run down to the elevator, the phone pressed to my ear. The only sound on the other end of the phone is that of a car engine starting. A moment later, it pulls away, tires screeching. Then more eerie silence follows that.
And I'm left there, staring at the phone, realizing I've just heard Holly being kidnapped.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Holly
“I don't know, Dad,” I say. “I'm still thinking about it.”
“What is there to think about?” he asks. “I mean, I really need you to help me out here, Holly. I need you to put the family first.”
“This isn't simply helping you out, Dad,” I say. “This isn't you asking me to borrow my car or loan you a hundred bucks. This is you asking me to give up my life. It's something else entirely.”
It's a conversation we've had a thousand times already and one that hasn't yielded any positive fruit in all that time. I can't believe my father is seriously asking me to marry this man that I don't know just to bail his ass out. The way he talks, it's like I owe it to him, and if I say no, then I'm betraying the whole family. Like I'd be a traitor to my people or something.
The very thought of this situation fills me with rage and it's all I can do to keep from screaming at him. The petty, vindictive side of me wants to tell him that I'm married. That I'm pregnant. Both of those things would prevent me from being part of his sleazy arrangement. It would prevent him from selling me off to pay down his debts to the drug lord.
Part of me wants to tell him just to see the look of shock and outrage on his face – to see the realization that he's on his own in this sordid business, sink in completely.
But, I check myself and stuff all those emotions as far down as possible. I'm not here for this right now. And I'm sure as hell not here to let him know that he's going to be a grandfather. I can’t even imagine what he would do to me if I started off with that particular fact.
No, I'm here to find out when and where Brayden can meet with my father. Nothing more and nothing less.
Not that I'm telling him Brayden's coming. Brayden had been clear about not giving him the heads-up, saying he preferred to go in cold and give my father less time to prepare some bullshit story. He said he wants to have an actual conversation and find some real solutions to this problem.
“Look, I don't want to rehash this again right now,” I say. “I told you I needed time to think about it, so give me some time, okay? I'm still furious that you ambushed me. And I'm sorry to say it, but Armando is a fucking creep. He's scary, Dad. I can't believe you'd even –”
My dad holds his hand up to stop me. “They come from a different culture, Holly,” he says. “They do things differently. It'll just take some time to adjust and get used to –”
“The potential for domestic violence is a culture thing?” I snap. “Something I'll adjust to? The fuck I will, Dad. Pardon my French. But, I will never accept a man who raises his hand to me. And you should never accept a man who does either.”