Chapter 28
Colt
“Remember when Wilder went to San Francisco?”
I pause my hand on the diner door and look at Alistair.
The rain has stopped, but we both smell like smoke.
I’ve questioned more people tonight, more who claim they know nothing, and now they’ll never speak again.
Alistair took Taf’s place in the warehouse, and it’s close to midnight and I need a coffee.
I didn’t expect a lecture alongside my caffeine. “Is that a joke?”
My friend frowns gently, more concerned than angry. “You told him he was losing control. Don’t you think—”
I push the door open and go inside.
Alistair is about to compare me to my brother, and I refuse to fucking hear it. I’m not losing control. It’s firmly in my fucking grasp; I’m just wielding it differently.
It’s quiet, three or four people in booths eating or talking quietly. I go to the counter. The server grins, eyes far too bright for this time of the night.
“Two coffees to go, please,” I say.
She gives me a thumbs up, and as she turns her back, I wonder if I know her.
“All I’m saying,” Alistair says, dragging my attention away from the dark-haired waitress, “is maybe we should cut back on what we’re doing.”
“Why?”
Alistair stares at me. “Colt, you …” He glances around to make sure we’re alone and lowers his voice. “You killed three people tonight.”
“Three guilty people.”
“Colt.”
I tap my finger against the counter. “What is your point?”
“My point is … you wanted out,” he says, searching my face. “But you’re deeper than you’ve ever been.”
“I wanted out to be with her.” The words snap out of me, my rage going from zero to a hundred too fucking fast. “What is it you think I should do? Sit back? Wait? Do nothing?”
“Don’t land yourself with a life sentence,” Alistair responds with equal grit. “You’re no use to Denver if you get locked up.”
“Right, I knew I recognized you,” the waitress says, and we both look at her. She pushes the coffees over to us. “You’re Denver’s cheating boyfriend. I never forget a philanderer.” She points at her eyes, then at me.
I frown. “Who are you?”
She presses her hand to her chest. “Sandy. I tried to hit you with an axe in a restaurant kitchen.”
Alistair looks between us. “I’m missing a huge part of this story.”
I dig into memories—and it hits me.
“You set off the fire alarms.”
She grins. “That’s me. So, did she dump you?”
The flashback of that night has my heart aching through the stone I’ve built around it. Dever saved my life and killed a Capelli, even though she didn’t know me except for a single phone call. Hours later, we were stuck in an elevator, and maybe that’s when I fell in love with her.
“She married me,” I say quietly, showing her my ring.
She scoffs. “So, it’s your kid then?”
I almost rear back. “What?”
“The baby.” She points at her stomach. “I saw her at a gynecologist’s office last week. She didn’t look that pregnant, but I overheard the doctor talking about prenatal vitamins.”
Words escape me. Pregnant.
Denver’s pregnant. She’s pregnant and in the hands of a fucking monster.
I’m still processing, so Alistair speaks before I do.
“You saw Denver? You’re sure?”
Sandy looks between us, raising her brows. “Yeah. I was gonna say hi, but I got a call. Saw her later downstairs getting into a car. Almost went up to her, but she looked … distracted.”
My thoughts collapse around me with such veracity that I can hardly form a sentence. “What gynecologists’ office? Here? In New York?”
“Uh, yeah,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “I thought you said you married her.”
I place my palms flat on the counter and try to breathe. “Sandy, I need you to write down the address. I need you to try and remember what that car looked like.”
My heart is running fast and free in my chest and head, blood rushing through my ears as Sandy eyes me suspiciously. “Listen, if she dumped you and you’re some stalker—”
“I’m her husband,” I say, desperation leaking into my voice as I lock my eyes on hers. “Someone took her from me. She’s in danger, Sandy. You have to tell me everything.”
Her expression softens, and she takes her phone out of her apron. She types something in and then shows me a map application.
“I was here,” she says.
It’s fifteen minutes from here. Fifteen fucking minutes.
“When?”
“Last Tuesday. She got into a black limo car with some guy.”
I swallow. “An older guy?”
She wrinkles her nose and shakes her head. “Nope. About your age, I think.”
Spider doesn’t have her. Or, at least, he doesn’t anymore. Which can only mean one thing.
I glance at Alistair. “He sold her?” The words feel bitter and thick on my tongue, and sympathy floods my friend’s expression.
“Sold?” Sandy whispers. “What do you mean, sold?”
“Did you get the plate?” I ask, focusing on being Colt right now and not Ghost, who wants to lose control. I need to be smart.
Sandy shakes her head. “No, I didn’t think she was in trouble. She looked a little … off, but not in danger.”
“Off how?”
She shrugs gently, as if she’s worried what she says next might upset me. “She looked pale.”
“Hurt?”
“I don’t think so.”
No bruises on her, but that doesn’t mean she’s not injured. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She was here six days ago, and I didn’t even know.
Could she have moved on by now?
“Get the doctor’s home address,” I tell Alistair. “You can send it to Taf on the way.”
He nods, his phone already out, doing God knows what to get that information. We head for the door, my strides eating up the space between myself and the car.
“Hey, what the fuck?” Sandy shouts, and when I turn, she’s yanking off her apron. “Bella, I quit!” She jogs around the counter and joins us.
“You’re not coming,” Alistair says.
“Like hell I’m not.” She points at herself. “Twice I’ve gotten caught up in your drama, and I want in again. Move aside.” She shoves her way past me and out the door.
I can’t be fucked arguing with her.
When we’re all in the car, Alistair fires off details to Taf and anyone else to get the information we need. Sandy is practically bouncing up and down in the back seat, talking a mile a minute.
All I can focus on is Denver.
She’s pregnant. We’re having a baby, and she’s all alone in this.
And Spider kept her here. Right under my fucking nose. Has she been in the city the whole time? Or did the person who bought her bring her here?
My hands tighten on the steering wheel, my heart beating too fast. I can feel the size of it in my chest as it throws itself against my ribcage, an angry, violent curl in my stomach tightening when I think what she could have been through. What she’s still going through.
I can only hope that because she’s been to a doctor, whoever has her is at least taking care of her in some fucked-up way.
The building that houses the gynecologist’s office is quiet when we arrive, but the glass doors that lead to the lobby are unlocked. A security officer behind the front desk looks up.
“Is there something—”
“CCTV—how long is it stored here?” I ask.
He blinks and has clearly made the fast assessment that I’m not the kind of man who would leave if he asked me to. “Seven days.”
“Last Tuesday, at …” I look at Sandy, who has her arms crossed and is glaring at the security guard as if daring him to question me.
“One-ish,” she says.
“Last Tuesday from midday to the afternoon. Pull up the footage,” I say, nodding at his computer. “Now.”
He, smartly, doesn’t hesitate.
“The doctor is local. Taf is almost there,” Alistair says after checking his phone.
The security guard is shaking, but he pulls up the footage fast, scanning through it at two times speed. I watch people come through the parking garage door, women, men, children—
“Stop.” I almost jolt forward, yanking the screen closer.
There’s my girl.
Her head is down, but it’s her. She’s accompanied by two men, and one has his arm around her waist.
I already know how long I’m going to draw out his death.
He leans down and says something, and Denver lifts her head, nodding shortly.
My girl. My fucking girl.
I thought seeing her might make me want to unravel, but it just pushes me into a state of violence that frightens even me. “You’re taking us to the doctor’s office.”
The security guard doesn’t argue.
Once we’re in the gynecologist’s office, I hunt through paperwork, looking for Denver’s name. Of course, there’s nothing. There can’t be a paper trail. But it doesn’t matter, because the doctor has already arrived.
She’s in her forties and is wearing pajamas, a coat over them, her blonde hair disheveled and pulled into a messy ponytail. She doesn’t look frightened when Taf drags her into her office in the middle of the night—she’s pissed.
“What the fuck is this?”
I lean against her desk but nod at the chair in front of it. “Sit.”
“You can’t do this,” she snaps. “You can’t just—”
“Sit, or I’ll make you fucking sit.”
Dr. Shannon huffs, yanking her arm free of Taf’s hold, and takes a seat. She smooths her hair back and straightens her shoulders. She has a spine of fucking steel, I’ll give her that.
“You treated a redhead last week. This woman.” I show her a photo of Denver on my phone.
Dr. Shannon rubs her lips together. “I can’t discuss my patients.”
There’s a strand of humanity left in me. One that is being pulled tight, too tight, and it’s itching to snap.
“Do you make a habit of taking in patients who have no medical history and keeping them off the books?” I ask, searching her face. “Just how many women do you treat for the Eddardses?”
She schools her expression, but she can’t hide the way her face pales. “I don’t—”
“You treat the women they sell, don’t you? Make sure they’re in good condition for their buyers?” I hate the way I’m phrasing it, but I need her to know exactly how fucked up she is. She says nothing, her jaw tight, and that’s all I need to know. “Who did the redhead come in with?”
Dr. Shannon stares at me, not even trembling, looking every bit a queen of horror.
“Last chance,” I say. “Then I start hurting you.”
“You wouldn’t,” she hisses.
I tilt my head. “You treat these women knowing full well what’ll happen once they leave. I’m willing to bet you might even hand names over to the Eddardses too, right? Single women, living alone, confiding in their doctor. Do you get commission?”
The smirk is there and gone in less than a second, but I see it. And, seemingly, so does Sandy.
“Oh, fuck this.” Sandy suddenly lurches forward, grips the doctor’s index finger, and snaps it back.
Dr. Shannon screams, her eyes widening in horror, and tries to jolt out of the chair, but Sandy shoves her back into it so hard the front legs lift off the ground.
“Listen here. He might not hurt you, but I will. I’ll take great pleasure in it. So you answer his questions.”
Dr. Shannon is looking at her twisted finger, shaking from the pain.
So, naturally, Sandy grabs another finger.
Snap.
The doctor lets out a yelp that evolves into sobs, staring at her two fingers now so far back it looks almost comical.
Alistair and I share a look but say nothing.
“Eli Eddards!” Dr. Shannon says as Sandy reaches for another finger. “She was with Eli.”
“Who the fuck is that?” Taf asks.
“Spider’s nephew,” Dr. Shannon breathes, tearful as she continues examining her hand like staring at it will fix it. “He told me she was a recent buy but was pregnant. He has her until she gives birth.”
My breathing picks up. “Then what?”
She swallows. “They’ll sell the baby, then her. She’s fertile, and the baby is proof of that, so she’ll go for more with my assessment.”
Sandy recoils in horror. Alistair looks like he might be sick.
“How the fuck do you sleep at night?” Sandy asks.
She scoffs. “Believe me, her being sold on will be the best thing for her. That man is a fucking creep.”
Sandy moves aside as I step forward. “In what way?”
From the corner of my eye, I see Alistair shift. “Colt, don’t torture yourself with this. Let’s just find her.”
I ignore him, keeping my eyes on the doctor. “In. What. Way?”
Dr. Shannon shifts, cradling her hand. “Let’s just say the second that baby is out, he’ll make the most of what he paid for her. If she’s lucky, she’ll die quick.”
I stare down at her, at the total lack of feeling in her expression, more concerned about her broken fingers than a woman and child she sent to their deaths.
“You’re going to tell me everything you know about Eli Eddards,” I say. “And you won’t leave a thing out.”
Dr. Shannon glares up at me. “Eli would do far worse things to me than you ever will.”
“Oh, I won’t touch you.” I step closer, tilting my head.
“But I’ll let her do whatever the fuck she wants to you.
” I throw my thumb in Sandy’s direction, who smiles wildly.
I lean forward and grip the arms of the chair the doctor is sitting in and lower my voice. “And this time, I’ll give her tools.”