Chapter 37
Maddox
Iknow she’s not here as soon as I step foot in my apartment, and I’m filled with the kind of cold, powerless dread that drenches you, seeps into every fiber of your being. It makes me want to vomit. “Ellie?” I call out her name anyway as I race through the apartment.
No answer.
“Ellie, baby,” I shout louder.
Still no answer. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I take out my cell. No missed calls from her, no text messages. So, where is she? Her purple purse, the one she never goes anywhere without, is right there on the floor.
But the door was locked. She wouldn’t have opened the door to anyone without checking who was there after what happened yesterday.
And if she was scared, she’d have called me.
Or the police. Or one of my brothers. There’s also no sign of a struggle or forced entry, which means she must have willingly left the apartment.
I dial her number.
It rings and goes to voicemail.
Shit. Fuck. Fuck.
I dial King’s number. He was smart enough to suggest putting trackers on our phones last night. Thank fuck he did. He answers breathless, like he was working out or fucking my brother. “Everything okay, Mad?’
“Ellie’s not here. I need you to track her cell phone, King. She’s not answering and I don’t know where she is. She was supposed to be sitting on the couch in some work meeting. And she’s not fucking here.” I hear the fear in my voice, so I know that he does, too.
“I’ll find her, Maddox. It will be okay. Mason says to go to your dad’s house and we’ll all meet there, okay.”
I nod, frantic, even though he can’t see me. What if there’s an innocent explanation and I’m about to start World War III? But there can’t be. No way she’d be cruel enough to disappear and let me think something bad had happened if she had no reason to.
Instinct tells me this is very bad.
I slam King back against the wall and hold him there with my hand around his throat. The fucker barely reacts. “What do you mean, you’ve lost her?” I squeeze hard, and Mason lays a hand on my arm.
“He can’t answer you, bro. You’re choking him.”
I let go suddenly, backing away with my hands held high. “Shit. I’m sorry, man. I just…”
King nods, rubs his throat. “No need to apologize. We get it. So, we tracked her phone to a cab. It left your place just after you went to the store and drove around for a while. I’ve spoken to the driver, and he says the lady was ‘on edge.’”
I nod. Of course she fucking was. She lied to me, got me out of the apartment, and ran.
I’m not wasting any fucking time feeling sorry for myself here because this is Ellie.
The love of my life. The woman with more integrity in her little finger than the rest of the world put together.
If she lied to me, it’s because she felt she had to.
And the only reason that makes any sense is him.
Frank-fucking-Fallon. Now I’m here with my brothers at the house we grew up in.
The house where I’d first thought about asking her to marry me—which I still have every fucking intention of doing.
“So, she got out on the other side of the Brooklyn Bridge. The cabbie said she was on her phone all the time, on the verge of tears. Said it was like something out of a movie, like she was making sure she wasn’t being followed.”
“Yeah? Then why the fuck didn’t he call the cops, or keep her safe? The goddamn asshole.”
Nathan stands in front of me and meets my eyes. “We’d all feel the same as you, Maddox. But try not to spiral here. That won’t help you, and it won’t help Ellie. Drake is picking up her phone now. She left it in the cab after she was dropped off.”
Fuck, he’s right. But I still want to slam my fist into his face. I want to hurt somebody so badly right now.
I nod. Right on cue Drake walks into the room. He holds up a package, passes it to King. “Her phone.”
So she left it in the back of the taxi. Did Frank tell her to knowing it could be tracked? King opens it up and then looks at me. “Passcode?”
I have no clue. I barely know how to use my own damn phone, never mind somebody else’s. I suggest some combinations that might work. Her birthday, her siblings’ ages. King tells me I have one more try before the thing locks.
“And what happens then?”
He looks at me calmly. “Then, it takes a whole lot longer. I’ll get into it, this is just much quicker. And time matters here.”
Elijah is by my side, exuding that stern big brother energy that I need. “Take your time, Mad,” he says gently.
I rack my brain, trying to come up with something else.
Then it comes to me. Probably crazy, probably wrong, but I have nothing to lose. I tell King the numbers, and he grins as the phone yields. Six numbers that bring tears to my eyes.
The date we first met in Morocco all those years ago.
I make to grab the phone from him, but King gives me a look. It’s calm and cool and everything I’m not. “Let me go through this, Maddox. I know what I’m doing.”
My dad puts his arm around my shoulders, and I finally let go of some of the tension.
The fury and the fear. He might be in his seventies, and we might have a complicated history, but he’s still my dad.
The big solid rock, Dalton James. He hugs me fiercely then holds me back by my shoulders. “Let King help, son. Let us all help.”
“Yeah. Okay. I’m going to call Keres. Let me know as soon as you know anything. Or if that bastard comes back online.”
Frank Fallon’s phone has been disconnected.
King has someone checking when and where it last ‘pinged,’ whatever the hell that means.
His buddy Charlie Evans at NYPD has put out a BOLO alert, even though officially there’s no crime here.
Ellie is an adult who left my apartment of her own free will a few hours earlier.
There’s no evidence of foul play, and no proof that she has come to any harm.
So the be-on-the-lookout is a favor, nothing more.
I’d find those facts comforting if I didn’t know better. There’s no way she really left of her own free will. She was coerced somehow, and knowing Ellie, it was because she was protecting someone.
My call with Keres goes about as well as you’d expect. She’s quietly furious, and I pity anybody who falls victim to her wrath. She icily asks questions, tells me she has some arrangements to make, and informs me that they’ll be here as soon as possible.
“We really should have killed that piece of shit when we had the chance,” she snarls. I express my agreement, and then she hangs up.
I sit on the bed after the call and take a minute to do some deep breathing, the kind Ellie and I sometimes do together. It will do nobody any good if I go off at the deep end.
I breathe, and I pray, and I try to balance my anger and fear with hope. Once that woman is back in my arms, I’m never going to let her go again. My dad was right—the perfect time never comes. I don’t need the perfect ring, or the perfect moment, to ask her to be my wife.
Together, we’re already perfect.
I can see her now in my mind. Her smile.
Her eyes. Her curls. The way her curves feel pressed up against me when we spoon.
The sweet sound of her voice. Everything about her is bright and alive and perfect.
She radiates goodness and positive energy.
There’s no way I can ever fucking lose her. No way in hell.
I go back into the dining room which has become Fuck Frank Fallon HQ. Maps are spread over the dining table, pots of coffee are scattered around, and everyone is busy. My whole family is doing what they can for me. For us.
Nathan glances over. “You good buddy?”
I nod, running my hands through my hair. “I’m good. What do we know?”
King grimaces, holding up her phone. “She left this in the cab because he told her to. He also told her to wipe all the messages from him, but I got them back. They were stored in the Cloud.”
I don’t ask questions. Now is not the time to tell him I have no fucking clue what the Cloud is and zero interest in finding out. “And?”
“And…” His throat works as he swallows.
“What is it, King?” I snap.
“He’s blackmailing her. Says he has something on you that he’s willing to go to the cops with. The kind of thing that could see you doing life behind bars.”
“What?” Mason and I say at the same time.
Nathan takes the phone from King’s hand and quickly scans the texts. “Fuck, Mad,” he mutters.
“What? What did he say, Nathan?” I’m spiraling here. Not because Frank Fallon might know I murdered someone, but because Ellie put herself in danger for me.
“What the hell is he talking about, Maddox?” Mason asks.
I open and close my mouth.
“Now’s not the time for this discussion,” Nathan snaps. Then he turns to me, “I doubt he has anything. Sent her a photo of a trashed hotel room, but it’s not the hotel room.”
“Ellie wouldn’t know that though.” I drop my head into my hands.
“No. Probably lying out of his ass,” Nathan assures me. “But he does have Milton’s name.”
“Who the fuck is Milton?” Mason asks, bewildered.
Elijah’s face turns gray. “Milton Travers?”
I look up at him and nod. Fuck it, now they all know. But I don’t give a shit. I just want my girl back. I expect my oldest brother to tear me a new one, call me a selfish stupid prick. But he doesn’t. He wraps me in his arms and kisses the top of my head. “We’ll get her back, I promise.”
“Someone want to fill me in here?” Mason asks.
Drake comes off his call and joins us before I can answer. His normally neat and tidy hair is in tufts and his tie is loose, which in Drake world is chaos. “Yeah, fill me in, too.”
“You don’t have to do this now, Mad,” Nathan tells me.
They’re all watching me. My four brothers. King. Even my dad. It’s him who speaks. “Milton Travers was one of the men who raped Yasmin.” I’m shocked he remembers the guy. I know that Elijah did, but he has a knack for names like that.
Mason’s expression changes. He’s just pieced everything together.
He edges closer to me until he’s standing by my side, shoulder to shoulder.
Drake didn’t hear part of the conversation, and he’s staring at me now.
“Why are we talking about that piece of shit? Did he have something to do with Ellie going missing?”
I shake my head. “No chance. He’s dead. And somehow Frank Fallon knows I killed him.”
“Jesus, fuck. Does he have any actual evidence?” Drake asks, his lawyer instincts kicking in.
“I don’t see how he can. Lorenzo Moretti cleaned everything up, and I don’t see how he would have left any stone unturned in that regard,” Nathan answers.
None of them seem particularly shocked or disgusted by my revelation, but maybe it’s the adrenaline, or the fact that we now know for sure that Ellie is in trouble. They quickly deal with it. “So, how the hell does he know?” Mason asks.
“I did tell one other person,” I admit, wincing. “But he would never have betrayed me.”
Nathan pinches the bridge of his nose. “You told Yasmin’s dad, didn’t you?”
“I had to, Nate. The man deserves a little peace.”
Mason slides his arm around my neck. “You did the right thing, bro.”
“Thanks, Mase,” I tell him, grateful for his support. “But right now we need to focus on finding Ellie.”
King clears his throat. “Frank told her to meet him on a street corner in Brooklyn. Then her phone was left in the cab and his went black. I’d guess he’s watched CSI or somesuch, or he just picked up some forensic skills in prison. He knew enough to destroy the SIM. Probably now using a burner.”
It’s like he’s talking a foreign language. “Where does that leave us?” I ask.
“I called in some favors. We have eyes all over this city looking for her. We’re focusing on security footage from the last place she was seen. We’ll find her, Maddox.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck…things are moving, but none of it seems to be getting us any closer to Ellie. To saving the woman I love.
What the fuck does Frank want with her anyway?
All of the possible answers to that question fill me with an incapacitating fear, so I focus on not asking myself why. Instead I concentrate on what I’m going to do to the sick piece of shit when I get my hands on him.