Chapter 22 Rabid Dog （Brady）
XXII
Rabid Dog
(Brady)
I won’t lie. Punching Harry Jay in the throat feels like a win.
It’s past time that eel had to fight for his life.
The only thing I don’t know is if it’s too late to matter. If Lena will rethink the last few days or decide I’m just another villain in her story.
The condo feels like a mausoleum without her. Queenie aside, I dread coming home, hating how Lena has left her impression on damn near everything.
It shouldn’t be possible to miss a woman this much—especially when love was always an illusion.
Still, I can’t lie even to myself.
I miss her like hell.
When my phone buzzes, I’m grabbing it desperately, but it’s not Lena.
“Luis,” I answer. “What’s up?”
“I think you’ve seen the headlines, yes?”
“Yeah. Would you agree it’s going well?”
“According to my sources, he’s sinking like a stone. The man will be stuck under a ten-thousand-pound legal boulder in days.” There’s a smug pride in every word.
Can’t blame him when Luis isn’t subtle about loving the cloak-and-dagger subterfuge.
“Good, fuck him,” I snarl.
“The local press is a stampede, falling all over each other to get interviews with him. From what I’ve gathered, his office is vacated, basically locked up.
” He blows out a breath. “So many lawsuits, man. It’s an avalanche.
I guess he’s decided to come out with his own, but it won’t get anywhere fast.”
“He’s suing me?” I snort. “Desperation. That fuck doesn’t have a leg to stand on.”
“I know, you know, and the lawyers know, but he’s suing for defamation, anyway. Just a rabid dog, lashing out at this point for something to bite.”
“I love the smell of panic.” For the first time in days, I smile.
“He knows how crushing this is. Even if he can wriggle out of criminal charges—and I’m pretty sure he won’t—it’s so rancid no one will want to work with him again in this town. There are calls coming to boycott him entirely.”
“Perfect,” I repeat.
I don’t know Harry personally from Adam, but we share one thing in common.
Image is everything.
And now, if he’s flailing and chasing his own tail like a deluded beast, hiding from the press while they burn him down—it means he’s a broken mirror.
He never expected his illegal fuckery to come to light, and it’s busted him into a million pieces.
His threats don’t scare me. Empty bluster.
Hell, anybody in code enforcement he corrupted is probably fleeing across the state line by now if they have an IQ above frozen lasagna.
“There’s something else.” Luis clears his throat, his usual tell when he wants to change the subject—and when he knows I won’t like it. “Have you heard from Miss Joly yet?”
“No. After these fireworks, hopefully soon.”
But why does it feel so unlikely with every passing hour of radio silence?
“I hate to throw this on your shoulders, but people are starting to notice she’s missing, boss man.”
Goddammit, I know.
I haven’t posted anything new for days.
With a social media presence like mine, I could hand off content to others to fill in the gaps, or just repost old videos. But it’s always been important that my fans know they’re talking to authentic Brady, and they have a near-daily connection to my adventures.
Of course, that also means I’m front and center, and when I’m not, it’s a recipe for controversy.
People are talking. Whispers are becoming a dull roar, asking why my last few posts and live streams had no mention of my lovely fiancée.
And my latest ghosting act just pours fuel on the fire.
A dozen variations of #BradyBreakup hashtags are trending.
Fucking hell.
“Where is she? Any updates?” I growl.
“Nope, but I have a few guesses you wouldn’t let me pursue.”
“No. I’m not invading her damn privacy.”
I’ve done that enough.
“In that case, I don’t think we’ll uncover her location unless she decides she wants you to find her, my man.”
Damn.
And judging by the total silence, even more than twelve hours after I unleashed the hounds on Harry’s ass, that’s unlikely.
I scowl at my computer screen, the satisfaction of destroying Harry Jay running through my fingers like fine sand.
I need to find Lena ASAP.
“I hate to add insult to injury, but your mother’s been asking about her too,” Luis says. “She’s wondering when you’ll bring her around the house to talk wedding plans. She couldn’t believe your father sang her praises after that charity thing.”
“Fuck me, I know.” I rake a hand through my hair, clenching my jaw. “But what the hell do I say? That she dumped me and ran off into the sunset?”
Luis goes quiet. “You want to give them the truth?”
“Absolutely not. Shit, I need to find her and make this right.” Even if it’ll take her time to understand why I hit Harry Jay the way I did, and a miracle to ever fall in love with me again.
I’m ready to become a praying man for the first time in my life if she’ll talk to me.
If I can prove that her devil ex is gone for good.
“Did you send the article to Dr. Ezzie?” Luis asks after a second.
“Yeah. She said she passed it along.”
“Damn. I guess we’ll just have to wait until she comes back. Hopefully a few more days. She didn’t quit her job, right?”
“Not likely.”
I believe that, but I shrug because I just don’t fucking know, and that’s infuriating.
A few days might be an eternity. That’s what Lena said originally when I asked about her plans to run off with a friend and escape from me.
“I don’t want to wait, Luis. I need her now.”
“Don’t know what to tell you. If I could summon her back in a maid outfit and a cloud of sparkles, I would’ve by now.”
“Fuck you.”
“Fuck you too! Respectfully.”
“I could have you fired.”
“But you never will,” he says, a grin in his voice. “Do you want me to go digging? You figured she’s off with that Elle Marshall girl, and there’s a lot of material there. A lot of places they could be with her money, unfortunately.”
“I’ve got a better idea,” I say as it crystallizes in my head. “Hold tight. I’ll let you know if it works.”
“What are you thinking?”
“We’re going to do this the right way, respecting her boundaries. You know, unlike what happened before and put me in a world of shit. I’m talking to the only person who might tell me anything.”
Grandma Lark’s late-summer garden is bursting with color. Bright flowers, bulging tomatoes and cucumbers, little wooden gnomes, and lush ivy crawling over everything.
I’m no expert on this stuff, but it’s a testament to how sharp and active the old lady is.
It’s also my first time plodding over to her little house just up the street from Lena’s deserted house. When she opens the door and sees me standing on the step, her face creases into a mischievous smile.
What am I in for?
“Brady! So nice to see you again. I’ve got some muffins cooling—apple cinnamon today—and some nice hibiscus tea. Come on in.”
“If you’re offering to feed me that good, it’s a deal, Gran.”
“Boy, I think that smile could get you a hot meal anywhere in this city.” She winks and leads the way into the kitchen.
Unlike Lena’s apartment, this place is decked out with photos and kitschy decorations on every wall. Living proof of the long life Gran built here.
Still, with potted plants on every surface and the homey kitchen so well organized, it doesn’t feel too cramped. I’d call it lively.
“Sit.” She waves at the sofa. One half is covered in ample folded blankets, so I take the only free cushion. “Coffee or hibiscus?”
“I’ll take the tea, if it’s going.”
“Of course it’s going. You’ll drink up, and you’ll tell me why you’re here with that long lantern look on your face.”
“What look?” I call after her, but she just cackles as she heads into the kitchen. When Gran returns, she’s got a tray piled with muffins and two steaming cups of tea in blue-and-white china.
“Don’t flatter me, Brady,” she says before I can compliment her. “I’m too old and too curious why you’re here.”
I bite into the best damn muffin I’ve ever tasted and swallow before I say, “I’m looking for a missing person.”
“I didn’t know you were a cop, Mr. Pruitt.” Her eyes sparkle.
“Not technically, but this person means a lot to me.”
“Mm, yes. Only the world, I imagine. She would.”
“I didn’t say she, did I?”
Her grin feels endless.
“No, but I see that look in your eyes. You’ve come down with a raging case of heartsickness.”
“Like hell,” I mutter.
“Incurable, I’d say. It tends to make a person awfully irritable too.”
“And I’m guessing you have a cure?” I tilt my head. “How much do you know, Gran?”
“About what?”
“Lena and me.” Those three words feel like chewing broken glass.
“Well, I knew you two tried to wear out the bed.” She pauses, and I try like mad to delete that phrase from my brain.
“I also know you made her blush and giggle like a prom girl. I’ve never seen my Lena smile so much since she was a kid.
But she wouldn’t tell me much else, the poor dear.
The girl will sit and chug my tea by the liter when it’s someone else’s drama, but she clams up the second it’s hers. ”
The old woman sips her strong hibiscus brew.
“Somehow, I think you know more than you let on.”
“Young man, I told you, flattery won’t help you here.” The smile slips from her face, and she looks at me shrewdly. “She likes you. But I didn’t need to bring you that news.”
“I’d like to think so, but I can’t find out if I don’t know where she is, can I? I’m wondering if you do.”
For a moment, she’s silent, then she slowly nods.
“You men are all the same when you’re desperate.” She adds another spoonful of honey to her tea and stirs it, watching the swirl. “Did I ever mention my granddaughter, Elle? My actual granddaughter, that is.”
“Rings a bell,” I say politely.