Chapter 26 Jamie
JAMIE
There is no me without you.
—Text from Jamie to Ashton
“And you’re sure they’ll be far enough away?” I ask Grandfather again.
When the call came through an hour ago, demanding three million dollars be delivered by me alone, no one was surprised.
If anything, we were shocked they didn’t demand more.
I’d pay it. I’d pay anything to get her back.
The small security team my grandfather had assembled tried to trace the call.
But the man on the phone, the one demanding money in exchange for Ashton, the one I’d like to kill with my bare fucking hands, ended it before they could pinpoint the original location.
Three million dollars in three hours.
I’m to come alone.
They’ll call back thirty minutes prior to the meet and tell me where.
The security team had me demand proof of life.
Proof. Of. Life.
She was alive. I knew it in my bones. She had to be. There’s no me without her, and I was still standing, still breathing, so she had to be.
I still hear her voice. “Jamie . . . they killed—”
Then the phone was ripped away.
They killed someone.
Did she see it? Did they make her watch?
She’s alive. Her heart is still beating, and I’m not going to stop until she’s back here with me. Where she belongs.
We’re only one hour down, and I’m already losing my shit like a goddamned caged lion, ready to attack anyone who comes near me. I can’t stand waiting. I can’t stand sitting here, doing nothing, while Ashton is somewhere, scared and alone.
The security team has been using the kitchen as their hub while they’ve planned the strategy to get Ashton back. The door alerts go off each time they come in or out of the house, so I don’t think anything of it when the alert goes off again.
I don’t take much notice when one of Grandfather’s two Secret Service agents walk into the living room.
It’s not until he stops in front of me and clears his throat that I lift my head from where it’s hanging in my hands.
A young woman stands next to the agent. Light-brown hair pulled up on top of her head.
Short denim shorts, a cropped black tee, and pink fucking Chuck Taylor sneakers I wouldn’t be surprised to see Ashton wear.
“Who the fuck are you?” I ask, so fucking calm she should be scared of the restraint I’m showing.
“I . . .” She looks to the agent and shifts. “I—”
“I don’t know you, and you just happened to walk into my house today.
” I stand and step into her space. I don’t focus on the noise coming from everyone around us.
Don’t acknowledge their words. Just focus on this stranger, who feels like a threat to my family.
“Now. Who the fuck are you and who sent you?”
“Jameson.” Mom moves next to me and wraps her hand around my bicep. “Let her answer your question.”
“Fine.” I look back at this woman. “Speak or leave.”
“He’s going to kill her,” the stranger whispers. “He’s going to take the money and shoot you both.”
Two sets of guns are drawn on this woman, but she doesn’t even cower. And as I look closer at her, I see the exhaustion lining her eyes. Like this isn’t the first time she’s seen a gun. Maybe not the first time one has been pointed at her either. I also see something else . . .
“Who are you?” I demand, and the stranger sighs and reaches for her pocket.
The noise level jumps.
The guns draw closer.
The girl holds her hands up in front of herself.
“I’m getting my wallet from my pocket,” she says, sounding almost bored, like this has happened to her before too. Then slowly, she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a slim black wallet, handing it to me.
I flip it open and look at her license. “Delaney Rousseau,” I say out loud and hand the wallet off to the Secret Service agent for them to deal with. Hell, the one who walked her in has probably seen it already.
“Hey,” she calls out. “I’m going to need that back.”
“Why are you here, Delaney?” I ask, not even sure I’d say I’m hanging on by a thread anymore. The thread is gone. My sanity feels gone.
She shifts from foot to foot, focusing on the floor, and I get the strangest feeling when she lifts her eyes. Gold-flecked, caramel-colored eyes.
Ashton’s eyes. Evan’s eyes. Kyrie’s eyes.
“I tried calling her,” she says so softly, I barely hear her. “For weeks. Months. I tried calling her.”
“Tried calling who, Delaney?” Mom asks, her sweet but authoritative voice impossible to ignore. When Delaney shifts again, Mom looks around at the dozen plus people in my living room. “Could we have the room, please?”
Within moments, the room is cleared of everyone but my parents, my grandfather, Ryker, Finn, and me.
“This is clear?” Delaney asks, and Finn steps forward like he’s going to attack her, but I put my hand on his chest and stop him.
“Stop stalling,” he yells, and she shrinks.
“It’s as clear as it’s getting,” I warn her. “So how about you keep talking.”
She looks up at me, barely taller than Ashton, freckles dotting the bridge of her nose. “If I pull my phone from my pocket, are you going to shoot me?” she asks the Secret Service agent I hadn’t realized was still here.
“Slowly, ma’am,” he tells her, and she shifts again.
“You’ll shoot me slowly?”
“Jesus Christ,” I groan, and move between her and the agent, blocking his shot. “Get your damn phone.”
Delaney pulls it from her pocket, unlocks the screen, and hands it to me. “I’ve tried to call Ashton for weeks. I tried to warn her they were up to something. They’re not good people.”
“Who?” I snap, Finn and Ryker holding me back. “Who was up to something? Who has Ashton?”
She looks around the room at everyone and everything that isn’t me, only she doesn’t look petrified.
She looks resolved. “Our dad,” she murmurs, and fuck, it clicks into place.
“Our dad has Ashton, and he’s working with her mom to get money from you.
I heard him when I went outside. He’s going to meet you for the drop, and then he’s going to kill you and her and take the money. ”
“And where did you hear this, Delaney?” Dad asks as he steps in front of me, not trusting me right now, which I get because I don’t trust myself either.
“He was acting sketchy this morning. Worse than normal. And he kept going in and out of the old garage at the back of the property. The one where he used to work on cars before . . . He doesn’t go in there anymore. Not until today. So . . . I followed him and looked through the window.”
“When?” I yell, my mind racing as Grandfather turns to his agent and directs him to get the security team.
“Right before I came here. I heard him, and I saw her. She’s tied to a chair.
Not tied. Duct taped, I think. I’m not sure.
I didn’t stay long enough to figure it out.
Just long enough to hear what he said and to hear your name.
You’re Jamie Murphy, right? The grandson of the former president? The Kings player?”
I shake my head, anything I might say dying on my tongue as the room erupts around me.
“I came as soon as I put it together. I found your address and came right here,” she tells us and starts to cry.
“I’m so sorry. I knew he was obsessed with her, but I didn’t think he was going to do anything.
He never follows through. I tried to warn her.
But she never answered, and I didn’t know anything about her.
Not where she lived or who she was. I just had her name and an old number I found tacked to his board.
But today, he kept talking about you too.
So I took a chance.” She looks down again, and I realize for the first time since she walked into my house, this girl is broken.
She has a yellow bruise healing high on her cheek and what looks like a fresh one on her wrist. “You’ve got to go get her. Don’t let him hurt her.”
“There is not a chance in hell I’m letting them go in there without me,” I tell my parents, my grandfather, and whoever-the-fuck else is within a three-mile radius of my house and can hear my roar.
“She said they’re amateurs. What if he tries to shoot Ashton when he realizes what’s happening?
What if it’s more than the two guys Delaney saw inside? What if—?”
“What if everything Delaney told us is a setup? What if you being there is exactly what they want? What if they’re waiting for you to charge in?” Dad pushes, and my grandfather moves in front of him.
“You are not trained. You cannot go in there with the team. You’ll get yourself and Ashton killed.
You’re a civilian, Jameson. Standing on the sidelines is the hardest thing in the world to do, but you have no choice.
You wait and go in when my team has the threat neutralized, and you bring her out.
No one else will touch her, son. But you have to follow command. For her safety and yours. Understand?”
I want to tell him to go fuck himself. But I know he’s right.
I look at the head of the team. “No one touches her. Nothing touches her.”
He nods and turns to Grandfather. “We’re leaving in five.”
“It’s going to be okay,” Mom promises me, even though she shouldn’t. “Now get in the car and go get your family.”
“Walk me through this again,” I tell Mitch, my grandfather’s head of security, as he sits with me.
We’re down the street from Delaney Rousseau’s house, just outside of Kroydon Hills in an older section of Sugar Hill.
Most of the family stayed at the house with Kyrie.
The fewer people here the better. Only Finn and I sit in the backseat of Grandfather’s bulletproof Escalade, waiting.
“We’ll be notified the minute the targets are neutralized and will get you immediately to Miss Carmichael.” He presses his hand to his earpiece and holds up his finger. “They’ve surrounded the building.”
The longest sixty seconds of my life passes as I wait for something.
Anything to tell me what the hell is happening.
“Let’s move,” Mitch announces. The SUV swings around the corner, and Finn and I look at each other. Ready. “They’ve taken them down. No casualties.”
I don’t wait for the car to stop before the door is open and I’m out, running for the old detached garage at the back of the property with Finn hot on my heels. I need Ashton, but if she’s hurt, she needs Finn.
One of Grandfather’s agents waves us in, and I don’t wait.
“Jamie,” Ashton gasps, and I swing to the right, following her voice and sprint across the stained cement floor.
“Ashton.” I drop to my knees in front of where she sits with a medic examining her knee and look at her beautiful face.
Her cheek is split, blood dried against her skin covering the bruise blooming beneath it, and I swear to everything I love in this world, I want to find her father and kill him myself.
“Where are you hurt, Ashton? Tell me what happened. Tell me what you need. Tell me what I can do, please, baby.”
“Jamie,” she cries and throws her arms around my neck as I wrap my arms around her. “I was so scared I’d never see you again.”
Finn moves the medic aside and slides in, carefully evaluating Ashton’s knee. “Fuck, Ash, what happened?”
“He kicked my knee . . . I think it’s broken or shattered.
It’s bad,” she tries but fails to get control of her voice.
“I’d kicked him behind Hart & Soul when they tried to take me.
I tried so hard to get away,” she cries.
“I kicked him, so he wanted to hurt me,” she tells us between heaving sobs. “And then they killed him.”
“Who, baby?” I ask, not following her. “Who was shot? Who had the gun?”
“The man who took me from the parking lot and then shattered my knee was working for my father . . . And my father shot him point-blank between the eyes.”
My heart stops as I gently gather her face in my hands. There’s no way to reconcile any of this. “He’s never going to hurt you again, Ashton. I promise you. I’ll make sure no one ever hurts you again.” I’ll put twenty-four-seven security on her if I have to.
“I love you, Jamie,” she cries and presses her head to mine. “I love you. I didn’t know if I’d ever get to tell you that again.”
“I love you, Ace.” I brush my lips over hers, softly, scared to hurt her. “Now, we need to get you out of here. Can I pick you up?”
She nods, but Finn stops me. “I need you to only put pressure under her left leg, not her right. I’m going to try to keep it stable for now.”
“Okay,” I tell him as I slide an arm around her back and one carefully under her left leg, then lift. The unholy sob that tears from her throat, as her leg jostles slightly when we move, shatters my heart. “We’re going to get you to the hospital, Ace.”
“Promise you won’t let go?” she asks as her head rests on my shoulders, and her eyes close. “Don’t let go.”
“Never, Ashton. You’re stuck with me,” I promise her as Finn opens the back door and helps us into the SUV.
“Is Jonah okay?” she asks as we drive to Kroydon Hills Hospital.
Finn’s already called ahead, and they’re waiting for us.
“He’s fine, beautiful. Worried about you and a little scared. But he’s going to be fine.” I run my palm over her stomach, scared to ask. “Did they . . .”
“I don’t know,” she cries, resting her hand over mine and her head against my shoulder.
“They drugged me, and then I didn’t feel him move again for hours.
Not until right before you got there.” Her gold-flecked eyes blink up at me, tears clinging to her long lashes and breaking my heart. “He has to be okay. He has to.”
“He’s going to be fine,” I tell her again, hoping if I say it enough, I’ll believe it enough for the both of us.