Chapter 45
forty-five
DARE
Rose’s head hangs low as she shuffles down the sidewalk, away from my house. She didn’t see my car pull up, but Remy did. I spare him one, venomous glare as I climb out of the vehicle. “What the fuck did you do?”
Remy is staring after Rose. “She’s not okay.”
“Of course, she’s not okay,” I snap. Over the last few weeks, I deconstructed the house that had kept Rose safe, and now she’s living that harsh reality on her own. My instincts are screaming at me to go after her. Duty to my sisters has me rooted to the spot. I clench my fists.
“She left something for you.” Remy gestures to the table where I first took Rose as my wife.
At least with that, I have a reason to turn away, instead of racing after her. Chest and jaw tight, I stride toward the lacquered box, confused as I lift the lid. Confusion lines my forehead. So much paperwork. Envelopes with more. And a note for me.
Dare .
I don’t even know where to begin, but I hope this is a start. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for accusing you of lying. I’m sorry for not trusting you.
This box has everything you need to bring a case against my dad. It’s probably no surprise to you that he’s not who he seems.
My dad killed my mom.
I think he killed your parents, too, and hopefully, this is the start of you finding all the answers you need.
He’s lied about so much.
Despite whatever your intentions were when we first got married, you tried to show me the truth, and for that, I’m forever in your debt.
You’ve always been the Beast of NYC, and for a short while, I knew what it was like to be your beauty.
I hope that means something, but I understand if you’d rather have nothing to do with me.
With love,
Your Wife.
Glancing over the documents, all the pieces finally click together. The paper suddenly weighs fifty pounds. Finding proof that I was right doesn’t bring the relief I thought it would; it only poisons my blood, making it hard to stand straight.
With her mom’s letter and the forgeries, it makes sense. Joseph used his wife’s name to commit crimes. Somehow, she figured it out, and he killed her for it, but not before she could tell my parents. I look at the letter her mom wrote again. Maybe she threatened to take it to the police? Whatever happened, Rose’s mom wanted her to come to my family for safety.
A harsh exhale rushes out of me.
How long did my parents keep that secret before they started digging for evidence of Joseph’s crimes ?
How many more people has he hurt?
And Rose... Chest so tight, it threatens to crack under the pressure, I scowl at Remy, who’s been reading over my shoulder. “We’re going to talk about what I saw on camera later.”
I place the letter in the box and spin on my heel, jogging out of my house and down the stairs. Pulse thudding, I go to find my wife.
I don’t have a plan. I don’t know how we’ll deal with the fallout with her father, but I do know that she’s finally free of his hold. She’s not going to let him control her anymore. The air is locked in my lungs, like I can’t breathe until I find her.
She’s the only woman I’ve allowed to get close to me. I think some fucked-up part of me thought that, with the murder weapon in hand, I’d be safe from falling in love, but Rose found her way into my bloodstream.
I jog a little faster, my heart battering against my ribs.
I want her in my bed every morning and night.
As pissed as I am, a life without Rose isn’t one worth living.
She didn’t intentionally give that number to her dad. She’s given me evidence I need to finally take her dad down.
Rose gave me everything she thought I needed, but right now, all I need is her.
Rose crosses the street. Her long brown hair is loose, the harsh wind sending strands flying, but she doesn’t seem to notice. Her shoulders are hunched. Posture defeated.
Regret pours over me. All I wanted was for her to know the truth, but I hate seeing her this way. That fire I’ve come to love so much is nowhere in sight.
I run to catch up, but the light changes, and I have to stop or get run over by the mid-afternoon traffic whizzing by. I lift on my toes, keeping her in my sights. I can’t wait to hold her.
To kiss her until she stops crying.
To take her back to my house where she belongs.
The traffic begins to slow, but it’s still too heavy for me to cross the road. A trash truck rumbles as it passes by, and for a few seconds, I can’t see her. My heart skips, but then the vehicle is gone and my gaze finds her once more.
A white van without windows stops beside her and all the doors open.
Muscles tensing, I step forward, but a horn blares, and I jump back to avoid getting taken out.
Four figures get out, dressed in fatigues and wearing masks.
Dread unfurls in my gut and I stop breathing.
They look at Rose.
No. No. No.
Rose lowers her head even more. She has no idea. Look up, Rose. Come on, baby, look up.
She doesn’t.
They close around her.
“ROSE!” Her name is wrenched from my throat as desperation claws at my insides.
I’m too far away to get to her.
She turns, eyes clashing with mine, and the relief on her face is instant. One of the figures prepares a sack to toss over her head. My blood runs cold as I watch the woman I love being bashed on the back of the head and tossed into a van.
I dodge the last cars. Brakes squeal all around me, but I race through the changing light and sprint toward the vehicle.
My heart slams against my rib cage .
I’m not going to make it.
The van pulls away from the curb.
My breath comes in rushed pants as I pump my legs and arms faster and faster.
I need the plate. The description. Something, anything, to help me find her. I’m nearly there, but the passenger window rolls down and a gun appears.
“Fuck,” I shout, ducking behind a car.
“Dare!” Remy roars as shots ring out, the pops and subsequent screams echoing off the buildings surrounding us. Tires squeal across the pavement. The van is already turning down the next street, forcing other cars to slam on their brakes to keep from crashing.
“Dare,” Remy says, gasping for breath. “Are you hurt?”
“No.” I check my friend to make sure he’s okay before getting up and sprinting down the street.
“Dammit, Dare!” Remy shouts, but he quickly catches up with me, tucking his gun into the holster at his lower back. “This is reckless.”
“They fucking have her.” I race around a group of elderly women and turn the corner, but the van is nowhere to be found. No evidence of what direction they went. There are too many cars on the road. Too many people talking. Too much noise.
She’s gone.
My pulse is racing so fast, my limbs shake.
They took her.
My heart threatens to stop.
She’s in danger.
There’s one person I can think of who would want her.
Joseph Miller.
The man responsible for so much death. If he’d kill his own wife, what’s to stop him from killing his daughter ?
My lungs ache for air, but I can’t breathe. Can’t inhale. Can’t exhale. I’m frozen. Rooted to the spot. He’s going to take her too. Just like he’s taken everything else from me. I’ve lost so much. I can’t lose her too.
She has my heart—no, my entire soul—and if he kills her...
“Fuck!” I shout, threading my fingers through my hair and tugging on the strands to ground myself, but it doesn’t work. I’m so furious, my teeth rattle.
Remy bends over, hands on his knees as he pants.
My head is racing as fast as my heart. Whoever took her is going to pay. I’m going to make them all suffer. I start in the direction of the van again, but Remy grabs my arm.
“We’ll never catch them on foot,” he says.
“They took her, Rem. They fucking took my wife!” I shout, voice cracking.
“We’ll find her.” He sounds so sure.
Frustration rumbles in my chest. “He did this.”
Remy sighs. “Probably.”
“I’m going to fucking kill him.”
As soon as Remy convinced me to go back to my house, he calls to get a location on Joseph. We’re hoping Daddy Dearest wants one last conversation with his daughter before he orders someone to kill her. A terrible voice in my head whispers that we might already be too late, but if I listen to that, I don’t know what I’ll do.
How do you make a man suffer when he doesn’t know how to love?
Destroy everything Joseph has ever touched.
All of that has to wait, though. I have to operate like she’s still alive. Fuck her dad, I want my woman. I’m numb by the time I shut the front door, focused on one thing and one thing alone—getting Rose back.
Remy digs through the box she left. I have my contacts find me Rose’s best friend’s number. During our argument, Rose told me she had a PI. I have one, too, but hers knows more than mine, and I don’t have time to try and catch someone up.
The phone rings three times and the sound warbles in my ear. I shake my head, trying to get a grip, but all I can see is the way Rose looked at me before she was taken. Vulnerable. Relieved.
“Hello?” a soft voice answers.
“This is Dare.”
A pause, an inhalation, and then, “What do you want?” The softness from before is gone. I can see why Cassia and Rose are friends.
“Rose is in danger. I need the name of her private investigator.”
“What?” Her voice goes up an entire octave. “What happened?”
To keep from screaming that we don’t have time, I clench my fists and scowl at a spot on the wall. “I’ll tell you later. I need his name, now .”
Thankfully, she’s smart enough to understand I’m not fucking around. She rattles off the contact information, and I jot it down. “Dare,” Cassia says, releasing a shaky breath. “Her dad killed her mom. If he knows she knows?—”
Dread swells in my gut. “I know.”
“I—”
“What is it?” I demand.
“I haven’t talked to her since we found out. I never got the chance to tell her I’m not mad at her, and I just...” Cassia sniffs hard. “I should have answered her texts.”
“Cassia,” I snap. “You’re wasting time.”
She sucks in a heavy breath. “Yeah. Okay. You have to find our girl. She’s my best friend.”
Clenching my jaw, I end the call before I can make any promises I may not be able to keep. My next call is to the PI, who answers right away.
“Orion Investigations.”
“It’s Dare Richardson.”
Another weighty pause. How much do the people in Rose’s life know about me?
“Why are you calling me?” he asks.
“Rose was taken near my house. She came to give me evidence I assume you’ve gathered.” He doesn’t confirm this, but I didn’t expect him to. “I need every location Joseph Miller is connected to.”
“What makes you think I have that information?”
I clench the phone. “Fuck you. I’ll pay whatever you want, just give me what I need.”
Orion exhales. “Dammit. All right, I’m already ahead of you. Before I gave Rose that file, I was following another lead on him because he rubs me the wrong way. Joseph owns a few warehouses in Brooklyn.”
Orion rattles off the addresses, and I hang up before he can insist on coming to help. I only trust Frank and Remy’s men for this job. I stop by my office, grabbing my bulletproof vest, two guns, and extra magazines full of bullets. My heart is barely beating. I fight the what-ifs and focus all my energy on picturing how slowly I’m going to torture Joseph.
That man is already dead, he just doesn’t realize it.