Chapter 2
TWO
I turn the engine of the car off close to the secluded restaurant. It’s located in the woods and marketed as a beautiful resort, with a hotel, a few restaurants, and a perfect lake. It’s rather pretty but pretty far away from the rest of civilization, which makes all of this perfect.
My laptop is on my lap, and I push my seat all the way to the back, my dark hoodie on. It’s only at times like this that I slightly regret ever bleaching my hair. It stands out, and no matter how much I try, it always peeks from under the hood.
The phone buzzes, and I connect the call to the device on my lap while working on the program Mom and Lucas created. It’s one of the easiest to use but leaves little to no trace. The goal is to hack into the system and see if he’s checked in for the night or if he’ll be returning home.
“Yes?”
“I’m right behind you.” Dad’s voice echoes in the car through the laptop, and I flick my eyes upward, looking into the rearview mirror until I spot his car parking a few spots down from me. “What’s the plan?”
“I just got access to security cameras,’’ I respond, skimming through the live footage until my eyes land on Alexander.
He’s dressed in a professional suit, with a man whose face I can’t see.
Of course, the other fucker is hidden from the other cameras, sitting in the only blind spot of the restaurant.
“I’m thinking we wait him out. Going in and causing a scene is unnecessary. ’’
Dad hums from the other line. “Alright,’’ he pauses, and it’s silent for a couple of seconds. “How are you doing, Arlo?”
“Fine.’’
“Stop bullshitting me. When your mother got kidnapped, I was a wreck and beside myself. You don’t need to put up a front. Not to me, at least.’’
My eyes fall on my right wrist. The ribbon I gave Blair — the same one I found on the muddy ground the night she was taken — is wrapped tightly around my wrist. The color has faded, and no matter how many times I washed it, trying to get the stains out, they stayed. I haven’t taken it off since.
“I’m surviving,’’ I admit. “I won’t live until I’ve found her, Dad. I can’t live while she’s god knows where, in god knows what state.’’
“We’ll find her,’’ he says, determination lacing his tongue. “I promise.’’
“I know,’’ a low sigh slips my lips, my hand tightening around the steering wheel. My knuckles turn white from the pressure, my jaw clenched tightly. And just for a moment, my eyes close.
Behind the abyss, I can hear her voice. That sweet, soft laughter.
The way she called my name, the way the smallest touches were enough to send sparks all throughout my body.
Her gorgeous eyes that lit up whenever I was around, and the way her defenses slowly started crumbling when she truly started trusting me.
I saw the raw, unfiltered, and vulnerable side of her. No one else has ever seen her in such a state, and she trusted me enough to show me, to allow me in. She took down her walls, one by one, and let me be the one to protect her from all the harm.
Yet, here I am.
I fucked up.
I let her down.
“Arlo?” Dad’s voice breaks my train of thought, and I open my eyes, swallowing back tears. This isn’t the time or place. I’ll cry all I need to once she’s found safe and sound, after she’s back in my arms.
“Yes?”
“You do know that you can talk to me or to your mother about this, right? We’re all behind you. You have a village, and you’re not alone.’’
The words hit me right in the chest, and it’s as though something’s squeezing the damned organ.
With a deep breath, I let out a soft chuckle.
There’s no way in hell I’ll ever let anyone see what’s actually going on in my head.
Not a single person alive would be able to handle the things my monsters are dealing with.
Except for my perfect butterfly.
“I know.” I clear my throat. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.’’
Dad’s silent for a while, but then he sighs, and I know he won’t press the matter further.
All I hear from the other side is his shallow breathing, and although I can’t see him, I can practically form an image of what he’s doing right now — boring holes into the restaurant while we wait for Alexander to leave.
“What’s your theory?”
I lift a brow. “What makes you think I have one?”
“Did I raise a moron?”
The snort that leaves my mouth is accidental. “Definitely not. Perceptive as always.’’
“Duh,” he draws out, the tone bordering on mockery. “Now, tell me.’’
“I’m thinking he’s connected to both Simmons and Adams.’’
“Why?”
“There’s no other reason Adams would be guarding information regarding Hawke like a dog with a bone otherwise. I don’t think Alexander knew about what the two were doing to Blair, but they’re either politically connected, or they’ve known each other since their youth.’’
Dad hums. “Seems plausible. But we’ve gone through any information on Hawke with a fine-tooth comb. Nothing’s come up.’’
“He’s a rich man, Dad. He can make information disappear, which is why I’m taking everything we know about him with a grain of salt.’’
“I spoke with Ekaterina after you left,’’ he says her name with a hint of distaste, though I don’t press. I know Mom absolutely despised the previous Pakhan, Kaya’s father, and there’s also some sort of bad blood there as well. “If Lucas doesn’t find anything, she will by morning.’’
“I hate that she has more resources than us,’’ I mutter under my breath, and Dad chuckles. “We have the best technology.’’
“And connections,’’ he adds. “But still, being the mafia princess opens a lot more doors than you might think. If anything, she’ll find someone who knows something and bring the source directly to us. Or evidence. Don’t worry too much, alright?”
I don’t focus too much on his words, my eyes glued to the screen.
I squint them a little, trying to figure out who the fuck the bastard is meeting with, but I can’t see a damn thing.
With a deep breath, as a last attempt to calm myself, I take a quick glance at the other cameras, making sure I have everything covered.
“Also, Arlo,’’ Dad speaks after a couple of minutes of silence. “Noah will kill Nelson.’’
I swallow thickly. “I know. It’s her right to do so. I won’t interfere.’’
“Not that you could stop her wrath from coming,’’ he snorts. “But I’m just telling you in advance. Your mother has a lot of admirable qualities, but patience isn’t one of them.’’
“I just know it will hurt. She’ll make his last moments miserable.’’
Dad hums. “Of course. That’s the least she can do after we’ve failed Jane.’’
Silence falls, and he doesn’t speak, and neither do I. My memories of Aunt Jane aren’t as great as I’d like them to be; I was just a child when she was murdered. But I’ll never forget Mom’s crying at her grave, the guilt that never left her for failing her sister and niece.
Just like how I failed Blair.
“Arlo,’’ Dad’s voice snaps me out of my train of thought. “He’s leaving.’’
My eyes dip down to the screen, and sure enough, the table he was at is now empty. I make sure to save all the footage so I’d be able to find out who the other man is at a later date, then close the laptop and leave the car.
Dad’s presence is something no man alive can ignore. Even if he’s ten feet behind me, I can sense him. He’s left the car, too, walking slowly behind me, waiting for my instructions. Usually, he’d be the one to make the first move, but now? He’ll never get in my way of finding Blair.
The crisp air hits my face, and my hand reaches for the gun. My fingers tighten around the deadly object, my footsteps as silent as the night around us. Right now, Alexander is the prey, and he cannot even see the predators coming.
Yet, his back straightens as he walks toward his car. He isn’t sensing me — I know just how to move, how to ensure no one would ever fucking sense me. But he’s sensing the presence of the devil himself, my father.
I glance over my shoulder at Dad, our eyes locking for a brief moment. The conversation is silent, and he nods, understanding the intensity of my gaze. With a deep breath, I quicken my pace.
Alexander doesn’t hear me; he doesn’t see me coming. My hand wraps around his wrist, pulling it backward, locking it tightly on his back. A scream comes from his throat, and it’s enough to have me release the gun from my other hand, placing my palm over his mouth.
He slumps to his knees, the pain getting unbearable. One little twist to the right, and his shoulder would pop out of its socket. I lean in, my mouth next to his ear.
“Keep your mouth shut if you want to see morning,’’ I warn, keeping my voice steady.
He nods furiously.
I keep him at bay for another couple of seconds, then push him forward, releasing him. He slumps down, whipping his head around to look at me. His eyes are wide, but not in recognition. No, he’s scared shitless, just because someone managed to sneak up to him — which wasn’t difficult at all.
Quickly, I pick up my gun. It’s next to my body, not aimed at him. I don’t need to aim it at him for the bastard to get the message. His eyes flick between my face and the gun, then behind me. Hudson steps closer, and my head lifts a little.
“Who are you?”
“Your worst nightmare,’’ I draw out. “If you don’t tell me what I need to know, that is.’’
Dad snorts from behind me, trying to cover it up with a cough.
Now that I’m looking at Alexander, I definitely see the resemblance. Same high cheekbones, the same nose shape, the same freckles dusted over his face. But his eyes, they’re different. Not just in shape, but in the way he’s looking at me, too.
The kindness, the fire I’m used to seeing in Blair aren’t there. All I can see is a shell of a man, a pathetic excuse of a human, trying his best to mask it all and give the air of indifference.
“What do you want to know?” He asks, slowly rising to his feet. His movements are careful, as if he’s scared of poking the bear. He doesn’t move his eyes from me, in case I try to kill him, blow his brains out with the gun I’m holding.
“I want to know a lot of things.” I take a menacing, slow step forward, and he takes one step back, hitting the door of his car. He’s trapped, and realization dawns on him quickly. “Right now, I want to know how you’re connected to Paul Simmons and Adam Nelson.’’
His face goes slack, his skin paling a shade. He’s silent, mouth slightly open. He didn’t expect anyone to ask that, let alone a random man that he’s never met, who subtly threatened him with a gun.
He tries to regain his composure, straightening his back. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.’’
The lie falls flat, and I sigh. I’m disappointed and starting to get very angry. All of this is taking too much time, and the clock is ticking. If I don’t find Blair soon, it’s a question if I’ll even find her alive.
“Wrong answer,’’ Dad responds before I get the chance to, stepping forward. In an instant, he lifts his gun and whacks the side of Alexander’s head. The man falls down with a loud thud, bleeding from the wound, unconscious.
“You better not have killed him.’’
He rolls his eyes. “What is this? Amateur hour? Of course I didn’t kill him. Now, help me get him to the car, and we’ll take him to his buddy Nelson. Perhaps being forced together will get either of them talking.’’