Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Let it never be said that my husband isn’t a freaking genius.
The LAPD detective that Lenox anonymously leaked the texts between Alfie and Ezra to is the same detective who originally told Alfie that my father’s plane was missing.
The detective noted in his report that Alfie’s reaction was suspicious and that further investigation was warranted.
Evidently, Alfie wasn’t shocked or sad or scared that my father’s plane had gone missing. He wasn’t despondent the way my mother and I were.
He was angry.
Most likely angry because it fucked up his timetable by happening sooner than he wanted, but angry all the same.
After pieces of my father’s plane were discovered, Alfie was questioned—we all were—by the FBI, and that notation in a random file by the LAPD was overlooked or forgotten or possibly never seen.
At that time, Alfie was appropriately devastated, and nothing else came of any of it.
But when these new files landed in the detective’s inbox, he remembered Alfie, he remembered his notation, and he was quick to act on the information that was presented to him.
He also got in touch with the FBI, and things quickly snowballed from there—clearly everyone wanted this done before the holiday tomorrow.
Alfie was officially arrested by a joint task force early this afternoon at his home.
He tried to make a run for it but was quickly apprehended and every device in his home was confiscated.
Lenox pulled himself completely out of Alfie’s and Ezra’s systems, and there will be no trace that he was ever in them.
Alfie is sitting on suicide watch in a federal jail cell awaiting arraignment, which we’re told with the holiday might not happen until Friday at the earliest.
Thankfully, they didn’t arrest him in the office, but I’ve been on the phone with the board, playing shocked and heartbroken while working with them as we prepare a statement that our PR people will release at eight this evening.
It's a mess.
But a good mess in a way because now Alfie is in jail, Ezra will likely follow any second, and we’ve got a clean slate at Monroe Securities.
The board can hire a new CEO and a new COO, and we can rebuild the company into the premier cybersecurity force in the industry, led by honorable men and women instead of blood-thirsty, money-hungry fucktwats who don’t deserve any designation beyond that.
I told Lenox I’d love for him to be our new CEO, and he laughed. Loudly. I took that as his firm no.
Who cares? I’m standing in an Aurelia—Lia Sage since that’s her designer and model name—gown as she pins fabric and points to where she’s going to add a million sparkles just for me. A Cinderella dress so I can feel like a princess as I marry my anti-Prince Charming.
I love her. Have I mentioned that? She is my people. So are Fallon, Layla, and Wynter, who hung out with me all day here and drank champagne and pilfered through the Monroe and Lia Sage design closets and picked out what they wanted to wear to my wedding .
A wedding I am, for once, beyond excited for.
“Do you ever take that earpiece out of your ear?” Aurelia gripes at me. “I’ve been saying your name for like five minutes.”
“Sorry.” I wince. “I’m still listening in on the board meeting. They won’t stop.”
“That’s good though,” Fallon comments as she moves to sit sideways on the hair and makeup chair, her legs now kicked sideways over the arm. “It shows they care. My parents are all about boards, and they don’t give two fucks. Theirs are all about appearances.”
“How much champagne have you had?” Layla snorts.
Fallon holds up her glass, spilling some on the cement floor in the process. “I think this is my third glass.”
“You’re officially cut off,” Wynter tells her, only to start cackling as she twirls around and around in her own makeup chair since this is where the dress platform is located in Aurelia’s design studio. “But this is my fourth, so maybe I’m cut off too.”
“You’re all cut off.”
Fallon snorts at Layla. “Oh please. You’re a twenty-three-year-old Fritz. You know exactly what we’re talking about, and I’d bet you could drink us all under the table.”
“I’m also twenty-three,” Aurelia points out.
“Christ, you’re young. Why do you not seem that young?”
Aurelia lifts her eyes to mine. “Because I’ve been living my best life on my own since I was sixteen, so my age is in dog years.”
“Same,” all the women say in unison, and I realize I’m not the only one here who has an extraordinary and strange life. Not to mention the men we’re all with. They’re a lot in their own right.
“Ugh. Hold on.” I unmute the call. “Yes, Charles. I agree with that point. But I think the statement is solid, and more is just unnecessary. Short, sweet, to the point.” I mute the call again. “I miss delivering babies.”
“Soon enough. You know, we could open our own practice. One where we serve emergent orthopedic pregnant women.”
All of us turn to Layla.
“It sounded better in my head,” she mumbles. “Pretend I didn’t say that. Clearly, champagne goes straight to my head. ”
“Okay, you’re done,” Aurelia tells me. “I’ll finish this up Friday morning, and it’ll be perfect for that evening. Eeep!” she squeals, her exuberance overtaking her features. “I’m so excited. Lenox! You’re marrying Lenox.”
“You got engaged first. Like over a year ago,” Fallon quips dryly at Aurelia. “Don’t you think it’s time you and Zax tie the knot?”
Aurelia stands and undoes the gown in the back and helps me out of it. It’s a lot of dress for not a lot of wedding, but who cares?
“Um, did we not just establish that I’m only twenty-three?”
“I thought we just established you’re like a hundred and two in dog years,” I remind her.
“Technically, a hundred and sixty-one since each dog year is seven of ours. But I only count that when it’s convenient for me.”
“Crap.” I unmute. “Sounds great. Thanks, everyone. We’ll reconvene after the statement goes live. Go enjoy your evenings. The hard part is over.” I hit end on the call. Finally.
I step out of the gown and then throw back on my bra, leggings, and cropped sweater I wore here. Sitting down, I slip back into my Louboutin Vidura Spike booties.
“You need something super sexy for under that,” Layla throws out. “I mean, you’ve got great tits and all, but it’s your wedding. You need lingerie.”
“I wore sexy stuff the night we actually got married, but you’re right. I almost need to one-up that.”
“There’s a French boutique lingerie store around the corner from here,” Aurelia notes. “I bet they’d have the perfect thing.”
“Oh! Let’s go look. I need to get some sexy things too,” Wynter squeaks, only to sigh. “This is why I don’t drink.” She stands on shaky legs. “Come on. Let’s go do this, and then I’m going to Uber home to Asher, who will feed me and put me to bed.”
An hour later, I have a bag filled with naughty delights—including a few toys they had for purchase in the store—when my phone rings. I slip one AirPod into my ear and answer. “Hey. I’m heading home now.”
“Why are you still downtown?” Lenox’s voice comes through my ear .
“I’m walking to the car now. We just finished shopping. Why? What’s up?” His voice sounds funny.
“The LAPD and the FBI haven’t found Ezra. He wasn’t in his house or anywhere in LA. I’ve been searching for him for the last two hours, and I’ve tracked him to LAX yesterday, where he used a fake passport to get on a plane to Boston.”
Ice runs through my veins, and I quickly search the street around me. It’s dark, though it’s only a little after five, but I don’t see anyone beyond the usual rush hour crew of people trying to get out of work before the holiday tomorrow.
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know,” he barks into my ear, agitated in a way Lenox rarely, if ever is.
It makes my heart rate and blood pressure spike.
“Every device I have on him shows him at his LA home. He’s dumped everything.
He got on a hotel shuttle at Logan Airport when he arrived but never registered at the hotel or any as far as I can tell using his real name or the alias he flew under.
But he’s here, Georgia, and why would he be here if not for you? ”
“I don’t know.”
I shake my head as I open the driver-side door of Lenox’s black BMW XM. He keeps this car in his garage in Cambridge, which feels like a waste, but right now, I’m grateful for it instead of having to order an Uber and wait for it. Only the moment I slip inside and buckle up, I freeze.
“Ezra,” I say in a low voice.
“What?” Lenox growls in my ear. “Why are you saying his name like that?”
“How did you know I was here?” Ezra asks, sitting up in the back seat from where he was hiding. He can’t hear Lenox since Lenox is speaking directly into my ear, but Lenox can sure as hell hear him since the microphone on my AirPod is picking up his voice.
“Fuck! Fuck! He’s there? He’s in the car with you? Fuck. Get out of there.”
“I smelled your cologne,” I respond, speaking only to Ezra. My hands tremble as I slowly move one to the handle on the door and the other to the seat belt latch.
“I wouldn’t try that, honey.” Then I hear a strange click and spin to see Ezra is pointing a gun at me. I flip back around, breathing heavily.
Fuck is right. “A gun, Ezra? You have a gun? Why are you doing this?”
“Can he hear me, Georgia?” Lenox asks.
“No,” I respond to Lenox and quickly continue. “No, this isn’t you, Ezra. What are you doing?”
“The only thing I can do,” Ezra claims. “Now start driving and take me to your asshole husband’s house.”
“No,” I say sharply. “You’ll kill him.”
“Do it, Georgia,” Lenox snaps. “Do everything he says and bring him here. I’m recording him, and I’ll be ready for him.”
I shake my head. Ezra has a gun, and I know he’ll hurt Lenox.
He presses the barrel of the gun painfully into the side of my head, and tears spill from my eyes. “Now!” Ezra yells, and a sob slips out.