Chapter Three
Simon left the barn feeling better than he had when he got there.
Not much, but yeah, better.
The story he’d envisioned for the past couple of months was taking shape, and now that Brantley and Reese knew the truth, he got the feeling this one would go down in history. An FBI conspiracy to take down the mob results in the kidnapping and confinement of a mother of five.
Seriously. The headline wrote itself.
Of course, he owed most of the credit to Holt. If his friend had truly stumbled on the information as he claimed, then Holt should probably play the lottery because he was one lucky son of a bitch.
Granted, he prayed they would find Kylie and the story would have a happy ending.
His rarely did. Since he tended to work on cold cases, the best he could usually hope for was closure for the loved ones.
In this case, he didn’t want closure. He wanted to find the woman, bring her home, and take down the corrupt officials. In that order, if possible.
By the time Simon pulled into Violet’s driveway, he was feeling pretty good. The sun was up, he had some coffee in him, and now he needed to pack for a trip. He would finally get the chance to sit down with Max Adorite, the notorious head of the Adorite Crime Family.
Telling Violet was the first step in making that happen. He knew she wouldn’t be happy, and he couldn’t blame her. The Adorites were dangerous, but Simon doubted his life would be in jeopardy. It was a meeting. He was sure mob bosses had meetings all the time.
Using the key she’d given him, Simon let himself into her house, hoping she was still asleep.
He’d been living there for a couple of weeks now while they waited to close on the house they were purchasing together.
Because they were in limbo, he’d settled in as much as he could, which was hardly at all.
Since Violet was slowly but surely packing her things into the many boxes now cluttering the guest bedroom, he had a couple of drawers in the dresser and a sliver of space in the closet.
He wasn’t complaining by any means. He loved Violet. He would gladly keep his shit in his car if it meant seeing her every single day.
“Hey, Hermione,” he greeted the big feline who hopped up onto the sofa as soon as he closed the door. “Where’s Harry?”
At the sound of his name, Harry came prowling into the living room, the enormous Maine Coon moving with purpose.
“There you are. Now, where’s your mom?” he asked them.
Hermione meowed, but gave no clue as to where Violet might be. Harry ignored him altogether, moving to his space at the front window so he could observe the neighborhood as it came awake.
Since they were evidently not impressed with his arrival, Simon headed for the bedroom. He heard Violet’s voice as soon as he reached the door.
“I know. I will.” Frustrated sigh. “Okay. I get it.”
Frowning at the irritation he heard in her voice, Simon opened the door to find Violet sitting on the edge of the bed, her phone to her ear.
Had she not been annoyed, he would’ve gotten an instant boner from seeing his woman wearing his T-shirt.
Which, in his opinion, was just about the sexiest thing he’d ever witnessed.
Violet’s eyes lifted slowly, her frown firmly in place.
“I know, Mom. I said I would.”
He met her gaze and instantly knew something was wrong.
“Simon’s home,” she tacked on. “I’ll talk to him and let you know.” She rolled her eyes. “Yes. I will. Bye.”
“What’s wrong?” he asked when she tossed her phone on the bed beside her.
“My dad’s missing,” she said, exasperated. “Or my mom claims he is.”
His brain processed the words, but Simon wasn’t sure what the appropriate reaction was. “Just out of curiosity, what constitutes missing for a man who doesn’t stay in one place for longer than a night?”
“She claims he was supposed to come over last night but didn’t show.”
“And that’s unusual, how?”
She smiled. “That’s what I said.”
Simon figured that went over well.
He’d met Violet’s mother. Drama was Daphne Walker’s middle name.
Especially when it came to her cheating ex-husband, who also happened to be the love of her life.
Although they’d divorced long ago and Harold Anderson had never upheld a single promise he’d ever made to his wife or daughters, Daphne still had a soft spot for him.
And in an ironic twist, she was now the mistress since Harold was in a relationship with another woman.
Simon wasn’t sure that was still the case because Harold’s relationships seemed to change with the sunrise. Or so Violet told him.
“I assume she tried calling him?”
Violet nodded. “Said it went straight to voicemail.”
“Maybe the battery died.”
“Or maybe he’s off with another woman,” Violet huffed. “I mean, he cheats on his girlfriend with his ex-wife. Who’s to say he’s not screwing a whole harem of ‘em?”
Simon hoped for everyone’s sake that they practiced safe sex. And yes, that thought made his stomach turn.
Violet shifted closer, rested her cheek on his shoulder. “Where’d you sneak off to so early?”
Thank God for the change in subject.
“Brantley wanted to talk.”
She lifted her head, met his gaze. He could see the question tumbling around in her head long before she asked, “You’re goin’, aren’t you? To talk to the mobster.”
Since the first time he mentioned Max to Violet, she’d been terrified of him going to talk to the man. No matter how often he tried to reassure her that it was par for the course, she didn’t seem to believe him.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Today.”
Violet’s dark eyebrows angled downward. “Today? Why?”
As much as he wanted to tell her the details of the case, he couldn’t.
Violet was a Walker. Which made her Brantley’s and Travis’s cousin.
If Simon told her what they suspected, he doubted she would be able to keep the information to herself.
It was just too big. So to spare her and everyone else until they had something concrete, he had no choice but to keep it to himself.
“Because he’s making time to see me,” he lied. He hoped that Max Adorite was making the time, but he didn’t know for sure. Not yet.
“Is Archer going?”
“Of course.”
“And Brantley and Reese?”
Simon nodded. “And Atticus.”
“You promise not to meet with him alone?”
He smiled, cupping her smooth, warm cheek. “I promise.”
When Violet leaned in to kiss him, Simon took what she offered.
He couldn’t resist. Hell, he didn’t look forward to the idea of spending even a single night without her in his bed.
Their relationship was still relatively new, but it was solid.
As much as he hated being away from her, he knew it had to be done.
Simon was sinking deeper into the kiss, his hands beginning to wander, spurred by Violet’s husky moans. Unfortunately, it was cut short when her cell phone rang.
Violet flopped back, groaning. She grabbed her phone, stabbed the button to answer. “Hi, Mom.”
Figuring she would be otherwise preoccupied with her mother, Simon went to the closet to pack. It took him no time at all to throw some things into the small carry-on he used to travel. He was coming out of the closet when Violet called his name.
“Yeah?”
“He’s missing,” she said, this time sounding far more concerned.
“Are you sure?”
Violet nodded. “My mom found his truck.”
“Where?”
“In a ditch.”
Frowning, Simon set the suitcase on the floor. “Did she check local hospitals?”
“She’s doin’ that now.” Her eyes welled with tears. “She’s so upset.”
Apparently, Daphne wasn’t the only one. Violet worked hard to conceal her emotions, especially when it came to her deadbeat father. But deep down, it was clear she loved him.
“She wants me to call Brantley,” Violet said, her eyes pleading.
Usually, that would’ve been the right thing to do.
However, Simon knew Brantley wanted to remain solely focused on their current case.
He would likely scoff if Simon suggested they drop everything for a possible missing man.
One who had a track record of disappearing and showing up again when he was good and damn ready.
“I’ll call Archer,” Simon offered. “Tell him what’s going on. Since he’s part of the task force now, he can talk to Brantley.”
“Okay.”
Digging his phone out of his pocket, Simon made the call.
“Hey, man. What’s up?” Archer answered on the first ring.
“Where are you?”
“The B and B. Why?”
Simon relayed what little information he had to Archer, not sure what the man could do, but hoping he would have a plan. As much as Simon wanted to drop everything and help Violet, he knew he would probably not get another chance to talk to Max Adorite anytime soon.
“Let me call Atticus, tell him what’s goin’ on. He’ll know what the team usually does for stuff like this.”
“Let me know,” Simon told him.
“Will do. Talk to you in a minute.”
The call disconnected.
Simon set his phone on the dresser and sat on the bed beside Violet.
He put his arms around her, pressed a kiss to her temple when she leaned into him.
He wanted to assure her everything would be all right, but he didn’t.
He’d heard stories about Harold Anderson, not one of them good.
Hell, the man had broken into Violet’s bookstore and stolen money from his own daughter.
The worst part was she’d known he would do it, so she’d set it up so he could only walk away with a few bucks in his pocket.
The man certainly didn’t deserve his daughter’s help. At the same time, the fact that Violet would go above and beyond for her family—deserving or not—was one of the many things Simon loved about her.
Atticus had experienced a lot of firsts recently.
His first place to live as an adult that wasn’t a motel.
His first relationship, no matter how ridiculously complex.
His first job that required people to put their faith and trust in him.
His first friend who was a girl. In the short time he’d known her, Becs had become rather important to him.