Chapter 2
“Shit.” For the second time in the hour, the urge to throw his phone against the wall gripped Connor. But this time he resisted. Instead, he shoved the phone in his pocket and turned to face Mark.
“What happened?”
“She didn’t believe me. Said she knew Gabriel Wilson in high school.
” He swept his gaze over the jumbled paperwork and clutter of his work space.
Where the hell were his keys? He moved the mess aside, but nothing appeared except a plate of food and a line of ants turning his two-day-old peanut butter and jelly into their smorgasbord.
“Dude, that’s gross. I get you’re losing your shit, but Monica will be pissed when she comes home and sees this place infested with bugs.” Mark grabbed the plate and headed back into the kitchen.
Connor’s stomach twisted, and he squeezed his eyes shut.
An image of his sister with her hands on her hips and a scowl whenever he left a mess entered his mind.
She’d taken over the mother-hen role in his life, even though she was four years younger.
She’d be pissed to come home to the slop he’d left all over the apartment.
When Monica came home.
He needed to remember those words. He had to hold on to the hope that she would be found, and she’d return to their too-small apartment and boss him around like she always had.
Sucking in a deep breath, he tried to calm his frayed nerves and opened his eyes.
He needed to find his keys and get to the coffee shop.
Turning a wide circle, his gaze landed on every inch of the apartment he’d shared with Monica over the past five years, except the bedroom she’d claimed when she’d moved in.
Mounds of dirty dishes littered the Formica countertop, his days-old clothes scattered across the living room floor, and an odd collision of stale scents permeated the air.
Mark was right. He had to do something about the apartment, but he couldn’t waste time on that now. Spotting the keys among the piles of files on the kitchen table, Connor scooped them up and headed toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
Mark’s annoyed question slammed into the back of Connor’s head, but he didn’t turn around.
“Going to the coffee shop before Evelyn Price leaves. She can’t plan on staying too long in the middle of the afternoon on a workday. They’re at a family owned place in Astoria.”
“Do you want me to come with you?”
Connor glanced over his shoulder as his hand grasped the doorknob.
Mark’s dark eyebrows rose so high they almost touched his hairline.
“Thanks, man, but you’ve got enough on your plate.
I appreciate you being around so much the last few days, but I hope your help isn’t needed on this investigation. ”
Mark drew his lips in tight and dipped his chin. “You and me both. And it’s probably better if I don’t know your plan. Something tells me I wouldn’t like it.”
Connor snorted. “Just trust me. I’ll call if I need you.”
Mark nodded. “Go. I’ll let your lazy dog out before I leave.”
The door squeaked shut behind him, and Connor took the ancient wooden stairs two at a time.
He pushed open the door, and the cool air sent shockwaves through his system.
The musty air and rays of bright sun beating into his apartment moments before hadn’t prepared him for the bite of the wind as it whipped down the street.
He hadn’t even bothered to grab a jacket, but it wouldn’t take long for his hurried pace to warm his cramped muscles and chase the chill from his bones.
By the time he reached his car, his skin had warmed from the jog.
He jumped inside, started the engine, and took off as fast as the slow-as-fucking-molasses traffic allowed.
Irritation curled his fingers against the steering wheel, and he bounced his gaze between the dashboard clock and the bumper of the yellow cab in front of him.
The ringing of his phone interrupted the barely audible rock music on his speakers. He pressed the device to his ear after answering the call.
“Mitchel here.”
“Hey, Connor, it’s Ben.”
The whistle of wind barreling through his cracked windows made the accented voice of Benito DiSalvo, the private investigator he’d hired the day before, hard to hear.
“What have you found?” Connor asked as he put the windows up. The frantic plea in his voice would have normally made him wince, but his pride was long gone.
“Not a damn thing. I’ve searched everything I could get my hands on about Gabriel Wilson, and the guy doesn’t have a single ding on his record.
He’s rich as hell, comes from privilege and wealth, and prefers to keep out of the limelight.
Nothing to indicate he’s a hidden psychopath who’s kidnapping women. ”
Connor banged the heel of his hand against the center of the steering wheel. The horn blared into the cacophony of noise that was New York’s constant companion. “Dammit.”
“That doesn’t mean there’s nothing there. I’ve only scratched the surface, and the guy’s got enough money to make sure his name is clean. I need to dig deeper. I trust your gut.”
The validation of a man he’d met only once was enough to push the air from his lungs. No one else believed him, not even Mark. Everyone at the precinct thought he was grasping at straws to point his laser-like focus on someone they’d already cleared. But finally, he had someone on his side.
Even if he had to pay him to be there.
“I’m going to snoop around his businesses a little more. He has his hands in a lot of different pots. Too many. There’s bound to be a slip up somewhere.”
Connor nodded and tried to concentrate on where he was going.
He’d never been to the coffee shop where he hoped to find Evelyn Price, but he was familiar with the area.
A delivery truck shoved its way into traffic in front of him, and he said a silent prayer of gratitude for the now- empty parking spot.
He pulled into the space and jumped out of the car with the phone pressed to his ear.
“Good thinking. Also look up a woman. Evelyn Price. Gabriel’s been talking to her on the same app he used with my sister. I spoke to her earlier, and she said she knew him from high school. I’m going to try to get more information out of her, but I have a feeling she won’t be very cooperative.”
“I’ll see what I can find and get back to you.”
Connor clicked off the phone and shoved it in his pocket as he hurried down the street. A horde of people swallowed the sidewalk on their way to whatever blessedly normal aspect of their lives came next.
He’d give anything for normal. But that wouldn’t happen until they found Monica safe and brought her home.
Shop after shop passed by in a blur until the gut- punching scent of coffee drifted into the air. His gaze landed on a green awning across the street and traveled down to the gold lettering etched on the glass.
Coffee Time and Tea
Memories of Monica with a constant mug of coffee in her hands—usually with a book and her dog, Porkchop, on her lap—threatened to steal his composure, and he forced it away. He needed to focus.
Adrenaline rushed through his veins, and he took off at a sprint.
Angry horns blasted the air, and people yelled as he bobbed and weaved through the traffic.
He yanked open the door, ran inside, and slammed into a middle-aged man with a full cup of coffee.
The flimsy paper cup smashed between them, and the scalding liquid seeped through Connor’s thin T-shirt and burned his chest.
“What the hell? Watch where you’re going,” the man yelled.
Coffee splashed at their feet, and a hushed silence engulfed the room.
Every set of eyes in the room locked on him and mouths opened, a mixture of shock and concern pouring from them.
In the far corner, a woman with light brown hair turned his way.
Red stained her full, pouty lips, and lust pooled in the pit of his stomach.
Rich brown eyes fixed on him, and he had to tear his gaze from her stunning oval face.
A man sat across from her with his lips hitched in a tiny smirk. Their eyes locked, and the man raised his eyebrows a fraction of an inch. The deep set of his eyes and his pristinely polished blond hair matched every picture Connor had found of the bastard.
His heart thumped wildly, and everything in the crowded room escaped his notice except the table in the back. He’d found Gabriel Wilson.
Now he needed to figure out how to get the striking beauty across from him away from the snake and firmly on his side. His brutal honesty on the phone had only pissed her off. He’d have to figure out a different approach...and fast.
Evelyn widened her eyes at the spectacle at the front of the store.
An older, balding man with a smashed to-go cup in one hand had the reddest face she’d ever seen, and the bulging vein at the side of his neck threatened to explode.
Spilled coffee stained his button-up white shirt, as well as the stamped concrete floor.
The man with the shaved head who’d barreled into him, however, didn’t seem fazed at all by the ruined T-shirt that fit around his broad chest so tightly she didn’t understand how the seams stayed together.
He ignored the sputtering man as if he were nothing more than a bothersome gnat and stared directly... at her?
A rush of heat warmed her chest and cheeks as his sapphire blue eyes met hers.
The unique combination of those eyes against rich mocha skin gave him a dangerous and enticing vibe.
A jungle cat in a rock-hard body sizing up his prey.
Her blood pulsed through her arteries, and the sudden dryness in her mouth made it hard to swallow. But wait, he wasn’t staring at her.
She turned back toward Gabriel, and a flash of something sparked in his narrowed eyes. Intrigue? Amusement? Recognition? She opened her mouth to speak, but he tore his gaze from the man now stalking toward them and fumbled in his pocket.