Chapter Seventeen
Allen slid his AMG GT Mercedes coupe along the curb in front of the small apartment complex in North Phoenix. He sat for a moment, debating his next move. Ahead of him, and across the street, he spotted Tom’s red pickup truck. He groaned, his displeasure with the young man growing day by day. Tom had yet to find Natalie and he’d even spoken to her roommate, supposedly, and gotten nowhere. He’d spoken to Nico about him, and he’d assured him he’d turn up the heat on the kid, but so far it didn’t seem like anything had been done.
“Never send an idiot to do a job you should do yourself,” Allen said as he killed his engine and climbed from the car. He hurriedly walked up to Tom’s truck and knocked on the window. Tom lowered it, looking surprised. He flinched when Allen raised his hand to rest it on the door. Allen almost laughed. Good. It was good for him to be a little afraid.
“Do you have any news?” Allen asked, already knowing the answer. He knew Tom would’ve called him right away had he found anything.
“No, sir,” he said. “Sorry, sir.”
Allen tapped the door. “No worries, son. No worries.”
“Sir?”
“You go on home now,” he said. He smiled at him.
Tom looked horrified. “I don’t understand.”
Allen leaned in, causing Tom to rear back. “Let me put it this way, then. You’re fired.”
“But, sir—”
“No, no, no. You don’t get to argue. You just get to take your sorry little ass and leave.”
“But I—”
Allen grabbed him by the collar. “Didn’t you hear me, you worthless piece of shit? I said leave!”
Tom blinked rapidly and started his engine. “Okay. I’m going. I’m going.”
Allen released him and backed away. He watched as Tom put the truck in gear and sped away. He took a deep breath, straightened the jacket of his suit, and faced the apartments once again. He looked both ways up and down the street and crossed it quickly. Then he made his way through the complex to Natalie’s second-story apartment. He took the steps two at a time as he climbed, and when he reached the porch, the overhead light came on and he put on his best smile before he opened the metal screen and knocked.
He heard voices inside, more than one, and he turned his head so that his ear was against the door, trying to make them out. Could Natalie be back home and the idiot Tom had somehow missed her? No. The voice was too deep to be Natalie’s.
He knocked softly and waited. The voices came again, one in particular closing in on the door. Allen backed away and the door opened, wide and fully, revealing a tall but gangly young man.
“Yeah?” he said, looking at Allen with disinterest.
“Who the hell are you?” The question just flew out of him, his anger boiling dangerously close to the surface. Was this his replacement? Had Natalie indeed found a new man? Like hell. Not if he had anything to say about it.
“Me? Who the hell are you?”
Allen puffed out his chest. “Where’s Natalie?”
“Who?”
“Natalie, you idiot! Where is she?” He tried to push past him to walk inside, but the man blocked him and grabbed his arm. He was surprisingly strong for his slim build. “I want to see her now!”
“Whoa, bro, no way. No way you’re coming in here.” He pushed Allen backward, almost knocking him off his feet. Allen came at him again, his anger now raging.
“What’s going on?” a female voice said from inside the apartment. Allen froze as Natalie’s portly roommate, Gayle, came to the door. “Who is this?”
“I don’t know. Some crazy dude talking about a Natalie or something.”
“She’s my wife,” Allen seethed, smoothing his clothes. “And I demand to see her. Now!”
“Oh, right,” Gayle said. She looked at him with contempt. “She’s not here.”
“I want to see for myself,” he said.
To his surprise, she moved aside. “Fine. Come on in.”
Allen looked at her twice to be sure she meant it, then he walked inside, brushing past the gangly man with the large Adam’s apple. The apartment smelled strongly of pot and he walked around quickly, finding Natalie’s room right away. Once inside, he closed the door behind him and locked it. He rummaged through her things, searching her dresser, nightstand, and closet. He found nothing of significance. Not even a private little diary. “Fuck.” He sat down.
He wondered again if perhaps she’d met someone else and they’d come to sweep her away. But Tom had assured him that that wasn’t the case.
As if Natalie could find someone else. He laughed at the suggestion. She was too weak, too needy. She had nothing and was nothing. No, she needed him to be anything at all. And she knew it.
Natalie was his, she just needed to accept that. He didn’t understand why she fought it. He gave her everything she ever wanted. Money, cars, houses. Himself. What was there to complain about? But complain she did. About nearly everything. Arguing with him about freedom and rights and boundaries. What the fuck? Of course there were rules she had to abide by, whether she liked them or not. That was the price to pay for being his and his alone. Any other woman would’ve killed to be in her shoes. But Natalie had been ungrateful. Which was a shame. They could’ve been good together. So very good. Why couldn’t she just see that and come home?
“Um, hello?” Gayle knocked on the door and tried the knob. “You can’t just stay in there.”
Allen stood and crossed to the closet. He slid the hanging clothes across the rack. Not much was missing. Not much at all. He went back to the dresser and searched her underwear. Not much was gone from there either. Could it be that Natalie had really disappeared? As in, something bad had happened to her? It didn’t seem as though she’d planned to leave. At least not for a long time. So, where was she? Had she really just decided to take off on a whim and now she was gone?
Tito had told him there was no movement on her credit card or bank account. So maybe she really had met with foul play. If she had, what would that mean for him? Could he handle her being gone, forever?
No. He couldn’t. And it wasn’t possible. She had to be somewhere. She couldn’t just up and vanish.
He opened the bedroom door and shoved his way past Gayle and the man. He left the apartment without another word, not even bothering to question the potheads. He knew more than they did, most likely. So, what was the point? He hurried down the steps and slid back inside his car. With his phone in hand, he dialed Tito. When he answered he kept it short but sweet, saying all he needed to say.
“You find her, or I kill you.”