Crush leaned in. “What are you gonna do when you find him?”
“Worry not. If he’s put one finger on her, I’ll pull his heart out through his belly button. The Mageri wants him, to be sure, but they’ll never get their hands on him if I have any say.”
Crush rubbed his weathered face.
“I have your number if anything comes up.” Christian stood and held on to the lapels of his coat. “Now don’t go traipsing off into the city in search of her.”
“Then don’t give up. You got that?” He retrieved a set of keys from his pocket and walked around the kitchen island. “By the way, swing by my house and check on things. Make sure the garage door is still locked and nobody’s robbed me blind. If anything happens to my bike, your ass is getting nailed to a telephone pole.”
“Do I look like your fecking personal assistant?”
“I don’t give two shits if this puts you out. You’re the one who dragged me out here to God knows where. And bring my mail. I still have bills to pay. I don’t need the postman thinking I’m dead.”
“You keep sitting in that filthy recliner, and you just might catch a disease. If I see any bills in the post, I’ll take care of them.”
“Opening someone else’s mail is a federal offense.”
“Oh, for feck’s sake.” Christian moved swiftly toward the door. “I’ll be at the butcher’s shop from here on out.”
“Is that the best option you got?”
Christian rubbed the back of his neck and turned around. “The only other places he visits regularly are the cleaners and a local pub, but he won’t be popping in for a pint. We’ve got cameras on his house.”
“Why did he suddenly go missing? If the black market is anonymous, what spooked him into hiding?”
“The Enforcers showed up at his employment on his day off. I think someone else there knows how to reach him. If it’s a human, it creates a lot of red tape for Keystone. I can’t get past Breed security to question everyone, and now that they’ve seen me, they’re monitoring the parking lot.”
“Aren’t they the ones that hire you?”
“If you know anything about our world, then you know that working with the Mageri and higher authority is about as thrilling as pulling porcupine needles out of your arse. They don’t want us meddling on the premises, so they sent in their own people. Once we have a name or description, I’ll look into it. For now, I don’t want to spook him. Better that he thinks the dust is beginning to settle.” Christian turned the knob. “Don’t worry, Mr. Graves. I’ll find your daughter.”
“I told you to call me Crush.”
Christian smirked. “I can’t help but appreciate the irony of your name considering your daughter has filled so many of them.”
Crush folded his arms. “Let’s just hope she gets a chance to fill one more. I can’t live out here forever, Vamp. Make some headway, or I’ll have no choice but to go back. I’ve got a shop to run, and I’ve got buddies who might be able to help.”
“Let’s save your Harley girls as a last resort.”
Crush narrowed his eyes. “I’ve seen women with thicker beards than yours.”
Insults were their usual parting words, and they were always trying to one-up the other. Christian waved his hand and walked out. He had half a mind to buy a bucket of pink paint and make sure that Crush’s Harley was given a proper makeover.
His thoughts steered back to Raven as he descended the steps, the door slamming behind him. Did she know Fletcher was in hiding? Was she using it to make him even more paranoid? Men were like wild animals when backed into a corner—they lashed out. Christian couldn’t offer his protection forever. Every man had free will, and Crush wasn’t the type who gave a damn about his own safety. His daughter’s kidnapping was already taking its toll by the looks of the man’s loose shirt and baggy jeans.
As Christian neared his bike, he turned the ring on his finger. If he didn’t come up with new information soon, Viktor would have no choice but to assign him to their other case. Life went on, and they couldn’t exhaust all their resources on a dead end. Eventually they’d pull out completely, and when that day came, Christian would finally know where his loyalty lay—with the organization that gave his life direction, or with the woman who gave his life meaning.
Chapter 23
Miss? Miss, wake up. He brought you food today. Miss?”
Without lifting my head, I opened one eye. Rachel—just a blurry outline of a woman on her knees—set a paper plate on the floor next to me.
I’d lost track of the days. When the food stopped, my energy depleted—especially with Fletcher juicing from me more often. I’d lost the energy to fight him off, and as a result, my ability to tell time wasn’t reliable.
“You better hurry before he changes his mind,” she said quietly.
I dragged my arm toward the plate and grabbed a bone, not even bothering to lift my head as I drew the meat to my lips. It was juicy, and I took big bites until I became so ravenous that I sat up. Once I’d eaten every morsel of the lamb, I shoved the grilled potatoes into my mouth all at once.
“I cooked everything,” she said, as if seeking my approval.
My stomach cramped when I finished chewing the last bite. Maybe my malnutrition affected the quality of my light, so Fletcher had given in. After I gulped down the water, I wiped my mouth and moved the chain out of my lap. The manacles on my wrists had bruised and cut my skin from my repeated attempts to weaken a hinge by pulling. A foot of slack separated my wrists—same as my ankles—and attached to a master chain that bolted into the wall above my head.
“I’m glad he lengthened your chain again,” she said, collecting my trash. “It’s more comfortable than the shortest one.”
I wiped strands of matted hair away from my face. “Where is he?”
“Sleeping. I don’t think he’ll be coming back in here tonight. He hasn’t had lamb shanks in a long time, and he ate too much.”
I licked my chapped lips. “He’s been leaving the house?”
“No. I’m doing all the work.”
Much to my dismay. I hoped Fletcher would return to his regular routine so he could stay the hell away from me. His visits used to be once a day, but boredom and a light addiction don’t mix.
I grabbed the threadbare blanket beside me and covered my naked body. “Don’t you want to be an independent?”
Her thick brows furrowed. Rachel must have been about my height and build, but she seemed weaker and defenseless. Had short hair been his idea or hers? The frumpy dress was certainly his. Did she dress that way in public? The hospital probably had a dress code, and I guessed Fletcher didn’t allow her to do anything outside of errands.
“You’re not supposed to live with your Creator forever,” I explained. “He wants you to fear the outside world so you’ll never leave him. He might allow you to venture out and work, but you’re still his. His to control, his to juice light from, and his to order around like a servant.”