Chapter 31
thirty-one
Cole
Three days . Three motherfucking days and we’ve made zero progress.
It’s like she simply vanished into thin air, and, at this point, I’d scorch the whole damn planet to the ground if it meant getting her back.
I’d give anything to have her stand before me again.
To get lost in the moss green pools of her eyes.
To once again see that sweet smile that never fails to brighten my day.
Hear the sound of that sultry voice, even if it’s used to chew me out.
God, I can’t lose her. I won’t survive it.
I haven’t slept more than a couple of hours since she was taken.
Partly because I can’t shut my mind off long enough to rest, but mainly because Scooby has taken to sleeping on her side of the bed, whining all damn night, and I can’t even muster up the energy to be mad.
Hell, I feel like crying myself. Every second she’s with Jason is another opportunity for him to hurt her.
Images of all the different ways he might be tormenting her at this very moment make me want to lose the precarious hold I still have on my sanity.
The fact that my nightmares are back with a vengeance also doesn’t help.
But I don’t dream of Elena and Emily. Instead, I’m being haunted by a set of pleading emerald eyes.
I dream of a hand in the dark reaching out for me, but no matter how hard I try, I barely manage to graze the tips of her fingers.
I hear her calling my name, begging for my help, but I just can’t get to her.
The vivid images of her battered body and hopeless expression stay with me long after I jerk awake, drenched in sweat and feeling sick to my stomach.
So, I get up, and I sit in her living room, poring over lists and files into the early hours.
I’m in constant contact with the Houston PD, where his chapter is located, asking for updates and feeding them new information as I receive hourly reports from my new PI, who’s keeping tabs on the clubhouse.
I’ve called in every favor I can think of, digging into each MC member as well as Charlie’s background.
I must’ve contacted every old friend, associate, and distant cousin to gather intel on her relationship with Jason, but no one can give me a clue as to where he might be hiding her.
They began interviewing members of the club a couple of days ago in an effort to locate their president, but these guys are as tight-lipped as a nun’s cunt.
I have a feeling we won’t get any useful information there, at least not by the book, and short of driving to Texas to interrogate these assholes myself—which would be a lot more effective and infinitely more satisfying than sitting in her apartment with my thumb up my ass—there’s little I can do to speed up the process.
My gut tells me he hasn’t taken her out of state, which is the only reason I’ve stayed put.
The question is, where the hell would he go?
We’ve combed the area around the main house inch by painstaking inch, but found nothing.
And for the first time in my career, I’m at a loss.
The feeling is foreign and more than a little unsettling.
I hate that I don’t have my usual team and resources at my disposal.
Like a fish out of water, I find myself at the mercy of law enforcement agencies that don’t owe me shit, making it painfully clear that I have very few connections, power, or pull here.
Beyond frustrated and feeling utterly helpless, I’m exiting my cabin, about to take another useless look around the surrounding area, when Dave waves me over, holding out a beer in invitation.
“No offense, man, but the last thing I should be doing right now is getting tanked in the middle of the afternoon. I need to have my wits about me. You know, just in case.”
“Got water in here as well,” he shoots back, already fishing a bottle out. “Come sit, hydrate, relax for a minute. You look like hell, and you won’t be any good to Charlie if you keel over from exhaustion.”
I scrub a hard hand down the length of my face and decide to take him up on his offer.
If only because I can’t remember the last time I had anything to drink, let alone a decent meal.
Now that there’s a steady stream of guests walking the premises, Dave has taken to wearing clothes, so at least I don’t have to stare at his junk while I take a few minutes to look after myself.
I drop heavily into the vacant chair beside him and accept the ice-cold beverage with a grateful nod.
“Any news?” the big guy asks with genuine concern.
“Not a goddamn thing. I’ve been in this business for a very long time, and I have no idea what the next step is. I feel fucking helpless, and my inability to do my damn job could very well be costing Charlie her life.”
“You can’t let yourself think like that. You gotta have faith. No one is going to stop looking for her until she’s found and home safe. It’s just a matter of time. He can’t hide her forever.”
No, he can’t, which is precisely what I’m afraid of.
By now, Jason’s most likely well aware of my profession.
That I’ve used my position and connections to ensure the authorities are taking the search for him seriously, and if he decides keeping Charlie alive puts too much heat on him, there’s no telling what he might do.
I’m guzzling water in a feeble attempt to wash down the bile rising in my throat when I spot an unfamiliar man heading down the main trail toward us.
“You guys know where I can find the owner of this place?” he shouts from a distance as he approaches. “I tried the front office, but no one was manning the desk.”
“What do you want with her?” I demand to know, squinting to make out the letters adorning the front of his polo shirt.
Johnson Lumber.
The clipboard in his hand suggests he’s here to make a delivery, but I don’t trust anyone right now. “Got some lumber that was ordered by a Charlotte Delaney. The shipment is already paid for. I just need a signature.”
“I can sign for it,” I say, as I rise to my feet, and the guy hands over the paperwork. “If you tell me where to unload, I’ll be out of your hair before you know it.”
I huff out a harsh laugh. “That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? If I knew which cabin she bought the materials for, I could give you a better answer. As it is I’ll probably end up moving this shit a million times before she’s ready to use it.”
“It’s a shame that storage barn is so far out in the sticks,” Dave interjects, shaking his head. “Whoever came up with that plan mustn’t have been the sharpest tool in the shed. Either that or the previous owner had something to hide.”
My hand freezes mid-signature as something niggles at the recesses of my mind. Charlie’s words from an earlier conversation come back to me as I regard Dave with a thoughtful expression.
I’ve only been in the building once, back when the realtor showed me around the property, and it gave me a serious case of the creeps.
Looked like something straight from the set of a horror movie.
An abandoned shed in the woods. Are you kidding me?
The place practically screams serial killer vibes.
Could it be? Could she really have been right under our noses this whole time?
“That sly motherfucker,” I mutter, and the delivery dude looks at me like I’ve lost my damn mind.
I finish my signature with a flourish and shove the clipboard into his chest harder than necessary, prompting him to hurry back to his truck, like he can’t get away fast enough.
A low buzz starts to spread to my extremities, blood pumping faster at the promise of possibility.
The more I think about it, the more I believe I’m on to something.
Jason likes to toy with people. He’s been lying in wait for weeks, observing us like a couple of sitting ducks, leaving us wondering when he might strike.
It would be just like him to stay close to the action, giving him a front-row seat to my suffering.
He’d get off on watching me unravel, placing calls and sending the officers Chief Moseley has placed under my supervision on one wild goose chase after the next, all while he’s been holding her a mere stone’s throw away.
“Dave, you’re a motherfucking genius,” I say, ignoring the questioning look he shoots my way before I skip off the porch and make a beeline for my vehicle.