Chapter 33
“It’s been three days and they don’t have any fucking idea where she is!”
“If you do this, you know he’ll ask something in return,” Jax says, his voice carefully level.
He’s trying to be gentle about it. To weave the balance between supporting me in doing whatever I need to in order to find Riley and warning me about the decision I”m about to make. But I’m fully aware of what I’m asking for if I make this phone call.
I’ve been going out of my goddamn mind since the fire, and even more so when we figured out Riley wasn’t in the house when it happened.
It’s the not knowing that drives me mad. Whether she’s still alive or dead at this point. Who has her. What they’re doing with her. To her.
The constant ache in my chest deepens, gripping my heart like a vise. I run my hands through my hair, then clasp my fingers around the back of my head to keep my hands busy. It’s the only thing stopping me from driving my fist through my living room wall right now.
The police have no leads on where she’s at. They haven’t even gotten the damn DNA results back on the remains that were recovered.
And quite frankly, I don’t trust them to find her. They won’t make Riley a priority like I will.
I sit down on the opposite end of the couch as Jax. It’s late, almost midnight now, and he looks tired as hell. Neither of us has hardly slept the last few days, and I can’t say I look much better than he does. Half of his hair is pulled back messily into a bun. He’s got several days’ worth of stubble on his normally clean-shaven face, dark circles under his eyes, and his clothes are wrinkled as fuck.
He hasn’t left my place since the night of the fire, and to be honest, he’s probably the only reason I haven’t gone on a killing spree at this point.
Dropping my head into my hands, I whisper, “I have to find her. And he’s my best shot.”
Jax gets up and walks over to me, patting me on the back. “Then do it.”
He heads toward his guest room, giving me some privacy, and hopefully turning in for the night.
Getting up, I start pacing again, my body fraught with a tension I haven’t been able to shake.
This is my only option. I have to do it. For Riley.
Digging my phone out of my pocket, I dial the one man who has the power to find her. And consequently, the power to enslave me to him again.
“Emmett,” he answers on the third ring. “If this is another middle-of-the-night call to accuse me of some—”
“I need a favor,” I rush out, unable to mask the desperation in my voice as I cut him off.
Gio notices, because he doesn’t hesitate, he doesn’t ask questions, just says, “Name it.”
“Someone took her.” My voice cracks and I clench my phone so hard my hand trembles. I never told Gio about Riley, but I know he can tell from my voice that whoever it is must be important to me. “I need to find them. I need to find her. Whatever the price. Whatever you want. I just… I need to find her.”
His response is immediate. “I’ll send Vin down. He’ll be there in the morning.” He pauses, and I can hear fabric rustling in the background and then a door closing. “You love this woman?” he asks a moment later.
“More than anything.” More than life itself.
“Good. Keep Vin as long as you need him.” Gio ends the call.
I pull my phone from my ear, staring at the screen like it holds all the answers.
Gio’s quick willingness to help, and offering up the use of Vin, makes me wary. He’s going to eventually ask for something in return. I can feel it in every bone in my body.
Still, I wouldn’t change my decision. I’d gladly give up my life if it meant saving Riley’s.
I meet Vin at our office downtown early the next morning. There was no way in hell I was inviting that psychopath into my home.
Granted, he probably knows where I live, anyway. He’s got more intel at his fingertips than the goddamn president.
Vince Voletti isn’t just Gio’s youngest son and fixer for the Voletti empire. He also happens to be one of the best hitmen in the entire country. Which is precisely why I needed to pull him in.
“That everything?” he asks, shoulder propped against the wall in my office.
I study him from my seat behind my desk. The fucker’s intimidating. Black combat boots, black jeans, black shirt, black leather jacket. All blending in with the black wall in which he leans against, arms crossed over his chest. His dark hair is shaved, tattoos marking up his neck before disappearing beneath his jacket. His fingers and hands are inked too, and I wouldn”t doubt he’s got more ink than me under the rest of his clothes.
He’s not as big as me, his frame more lean rather than bulging and muscular, but he has this dark aura that surrounds him and gives off an ‘I’ll kill you if you so much as sneeze in my direction’ vibe.
I dip my chin, having just filled him in on everything that went down, then add, “They haven’t gotten the results yet on the remains they found, but the video evidence points to it not being Riley. So we’re operating under the assumption someone took her.”
“And you’re positive the ex isn’t involved?” he asks, a hint of disbelief in his voice.
“No,” I admit, leaning heavily back into my chair. “But I had a PI look into him, and all records indicate he’s still in prison. He’s been in solitary for the last seventeen months.”
“Hmmm.” Vin pushes off the wall, coming to sit across from me. Plopping down in a chair, he crosses an ankle over his knee. “Seems to me he’d be the prime suspect. Your PI find any communication between him and anyone on the outside?”
“No.” I rub the back of my neck in a worthless attempt to relax my muscles. “Nothing suspicious, at least. A few letters between him and his mother, three visits with his attorney, and one phone call to his brother. None of which had any useful info.”
“Funny how a supposedly esteemed former police officer has so few people checking in on him, isn’t it?” Vin raises an eyebrow at me.
I shrug. “Maybe. Or maybe he lost that reputation when he almost killed his fiance.”
“You underestimate the power of a brotherhood, Emmett.” Rapping his knuckles against my desk, Vin rises from his seat, adding, “Send me the contact info for the PI you used. I want to look at what he all found.”
Grabbing my phone from my desk, I text him the info.
When he receives it, he gives me a nod, turning and walking from my office. But when reaches the doorway, he pauses, looking over his shoulder to say, “It’s good to see you. I have a feeling we’ll be getting real used to each other again soon.”
He doesn’t wait for my response, turning the corner and leaving my office.
“Jesus,” I mutter. The guy has a way of sucking all the air out of the room, and I only now feel like I can breathe again.
Rising from my chair, I grab my jacket and leave the office. It finally feels like progress is being made to find Riley. If she’s alive, Vin is the best person to track her down.
When I step outside, I’m met with a rush of cold air. The sky is gray, and small snowflakes fall to the ground, the first of the season. They paint the sidewalk and streets in a crisp, fluffy white, hiding the filth and corruption that lurks at the heart of this city underneath a mask of beauty that will be gone as soon as the sun pokes out.
It’s fitting, really. How easily the evil in this world can be disguised. And how little it takes to bring it back out.
The buildings around my office are decorated with Christmas lights and wreaths, and the cheerfulness of it makes me want to burn it all to the ground.
Everyone around me is going about their daily lives, planning and decorating for the holidays, shuffling to and from work, shopping for gifts and treats.
All while my entire world is at a standstill.
Reaching my car, I climb in and pull away from the curb. Bypassing the turn to my penthouse, I get on the freeway, heading west. Heading toward Riley’s.
It’s out of habit, and even knowing nothing remains of her house, I still drive in that direction, my mind a whirl of thoughts and emotions that I can’t get to stop spinning.
The scenery passes by me in a blur as I drive out of the city, my hands clenched tight around the steering wheel. I loosen my grip, trying to get my body to relax a little, but within minutes my fists are clenched again, and I repeat the process. Half of my mind is trying to tell me to relax, to stop and breathe and remember to take care of myself so I can be there for Riley when we find her, all while the other half is racing and unable to slow down.
I’m almost at her place when Vin calls.
“You find something already?” I ask, cautiously optimistic when I answer. It’s only been an hour. Why else would he be calling so soon when I already told him everything I know?
“I’m going out of town,” he says, as the sound of a car starting comes through the speaker. “I’ll follow up when I know more.”
“Where are you going? You think whoever has Riley moved her out of the area?” It’s been my assumption and one of my biggest fears. Riley could be on the other side of the world by now.
“I don’t know,” he responds lazily, like it isn’t my fucking life at the heart of this search. “She could be anywhere. What I do know is that Trevor is supposedly still in Utah, so that’s where I’m starting.”
“You”re confident, then, that he’s behind this.”
“You’re not?”
Shit, isn’t that the million dollar question? Every part of my being knows he’s somehow behind this, but all evidence says he’s not.
“No. I mean, yeah.” I let out a sigh. “My gut tells me it’s him.”
“Then we’re in agreement. Don’t contact me. I’ll contact you.” Vin hangs up.
Jesus fucking Christ.
I run a hand down my face, then turn the wheel to head down Riley’s driveway. As I pull up to the remnants of her house, still cordoned off by yellow police tape, that ever present ache in my chest somehow worsens even more, until it’s almost unbearably difficult to breathe, my chest gripped so tight it takes everything I have to open my door handle and walk over to the burnt remains.
I duck under the yellow tape, glancing to the side and pause. The chicken coop Jax and I built still stands, untouched by the fire. To the right of it, right up against the tree line, three mounds of dirt with makeshift crosses sit.
A lump forms in my throat.
I hadn’t realized it the night of the fire, too caught up in my despair to pay attention to anything else around me, but she got the chance to bury her chickens. Riley gave them a final resting place.
Those three fresh graves damn near bring me to my knees, so I force myself to look away, resuming my trek to where her house sat.
The front porch is completely gone, so I carefully step over the crumbling remains of her foundation. Everything is covered in a light dusting of snow, the flakes darkening as they melt into the ashes, creating a scene of wet, gray sludge.
I walk over to her fireplace, one of the few things remaining, the stone scorched but still standing tall. We’d been debating that night–on the drive home from the Christmas festival, before everything went sideways–on where to put a Christmas tree. Riley wanted it near the dining room, as far away from the fireplace as possible, for fear of starting a fire.
The irony of it has me laughing bitterly.
Turning from the fireplace, I go to make my way back to my car when I step on something hard. Bending down, I push aside the ash and snow mixture to find one of the ornaments we had bought. The ribbon has burned away, and the orange clay is discolored, but the imprint of the dinosaur skeleton with the little Santa hat remains in perfect shape.
Squatting down, I rummage through the ashes and debris, my hands turning black as I eventually find fifteen of the ornaments still intact. I find four others that have cracked, and the rest I give up on locating.
I’d thought the ornaments were ridiculous when we first spotted them, but Riley’s fascination with them made me love them. Her eyes had lit up like a little kid’s on Christmas morning, and I wanted nothing more than to capture that moment and hold on to it forever.
I’d give anything to see that light in her eyes once more.
Hold on, baby. Just a little longer. I’m coming.