Chapter 9 – Remington
CHAPTER NINE
Flying car seats and pink horse asses
Remington
“Nothing?” Dejection is evident in that single word as I stare across my desk at Antonio.
“Nothing,” he confirms. “We’ve found no trace of your Minnie, Mr. Hale.”
“And you’ve checked to make sure there aren’t any missing persons reports for anyone matching her description?”
“Aye. Checked with local law enforcement as well as the FBI. It doesn’t seem there was any foul play.” What he was saying without using the actual words was that Minnie ghosted me. It sucks, but it’s better than thinking something nefarious happened to her.
I drag my hand over the top of my head, messing up what is usually perfectly styled black hair. It’s been a month, and I haven’t heard a peep from Minnie. Not even a single text.
I checked with the hotel, and they informed me she never returned to receive either of the notes I left for her.
Each time I check my phone, I have to remind myself she left before I could tell her I put my number in her contacts list. And even if she does happen to find it, she’s not going to know who the fuck Remi is.
“But… the internet,” I offer lamely to Antonio. “I thought you could find pretty much anything or anyone online.”
His eyes are heavy with sympathy, whether at my desperation or my stupidity, I’m not sure.
“Aye, but you have to have something to put into a search engine, Mr. Hale. And we don’t have much to go on.
” He checks his notes. “First name only, age estimated to be early to mid-twenties, unknown city of residence, red hair, hazel eyes, skin tone that hints at possibly some Italian or Hispanic in her background, might work at a bakery, great-grandfather might have been an artist, grandmother’s initials were J.E. , father is deceased, mother is alive.”
Antonio looks up at me as if waiting to see if I have anything to add. I don’t. Damn it all to hell. It all sounds vague as shit when laid out so bluntly. Estimated this and might be that.
Why didn’t I ask more questions? Probably because I thought we’d have time to learn all about each other the next morning at breakfast. But we didn’t because she left.
Why though? Surely I didn’t mistake the feelings between us that night. They were so… real. The realest thing I’ve ever experienced. Was it only one sided?
Antonio interrupts the litany of questions running through my mind with one of his own. “Have you considered that maybe her hair has been colored?”
I think of the pretty red curls between her legs, and I shift in my seat. “Red is her natural color. Trust me,” I reply gruffly, and Antonio’s eyes widen slightly before he jerks his gaze downward. And is he blushing? The thought amuses me.
“Ahh, understood.” He opens the folder in his lap and pulls out two photos.
“I did a search on bakeries in the Houston area, but I don’t think either of these are your girl.
The first one is a baker at a coffee shop over on Westheimer.
Name’s Minerva, which could possibly spawn the nickname Minnie. Her age doesn’t match though.”
He passes over a picture of a woman who is at least forty. The hair color is similar, but it’s streaked with gray. “Definitely not her,” I affirm, holding out my hand for the other picture.
“This one is actually called Minnie, and the age is about right. She works in her father’s bakery though, and your Minnie said her father is deceased.”
My heart soars with hope for a second. Maybe I misunderstood what she said about her father.
But that hope is dashed when I look down at the photo.
Brown eyes—not hazel—stare back at me. The woman has strawberry blonde hair, and her skin is so pale it’s almost transparent.
The nose and chin are all wrong as well.
I hand the photos back to him. “Not my Minnie. She obviously left through one of the other doors of the hotel since you didn’t see her.” Then, just to fuck with him, I add, “Unless you fell asleep and missed her.”
His deep scowl tells me what he thinks about that theory, which he doesn’t even address. “She could have left before I arrived at two.”
I’m already shaking my head. “No, she was still with me then. The last time we… uh, the last time I looked at the clock, it was after four in the morning.” Antonio smirks, and I pick up my sleek black pen, twirling it between my fingers.
“Have you had any luck getting the video footage from the hotel?”
He gives me an apologetic look. “No, they refused to turn it over even when I offered the manager a… let’s call it a monetary incentive.”
“Fuck,” I mutter, leaning back in my chair and tapping my lips with my pen. “You have any other ideas?”
Antonio’s gaze shifts around the room like someone might be hiding behind the potted plant in the corner with a recording device. “I could get the footage by other means,” he says in a low voice. “I know a guy.”
I narrow my eyes. “And would this guy be using violence to get this information?” Though at this point, I’m not sure I’d be completely opposed. I just want to find her.
My guard chuckles. “Just his fingers on a computer keyboard, Mr. Hale. He’s not cheap though.”
Tossing my pen on the desktop in resignation, I say, “I don’t care how much it costs. Do it, and let me know how he wants to be paid.” I check the time on my phone. “Why don’t you take the night off? I’ll just be over at my mother’s house. We’re having a little celebration for Phoenix.”
“Ah, how is the lad?” Antonio asks, his lips drooping beneath his beard.
“As well as can be expected when the woman he thinks he’s going to marry drops the bombshell that she’s pregnant and plans to give the baby up for adoption so the two of them can move to Japan for her career unencumbered,” I sneer.
He makes a grunt of disgust. “If you ask me, Phoenix dodged a bullet there. So he’s just going to raise the wee one himself?”
My chest tightens with pride toward my brother. “Yes, he didn’t even hesitate when Beatrice gave him an ultimatum. He was crazy about her, so I know it was hard for him.”
“He’ll be all right. He’s got an amazing support system with all of you.”
“We’re doing our best to be there for him. I honestly think he’s going to be the most amazing dad.”
Antonio’s beard twitches with a smile. “Agreed. He’s got a good heart, that one. Does he know if it’s a boy or girl?”
I grin. “A little girl. My mother is so excited.”
“She’ll be a wee princess for sure,” he says, standing. “I can’t wait to meet her.”
I rise as well, sliding my jacket off the back of the chair and putting it on. “I need to go pick up the baby gift. Mom insisted on throwing a baby shower even though Phoenix told her it wasn’t necessary.”
“Leave her be and let her have her fun,” Antonio scolds. “She raised three boys, so I’m sure she’s excited to even things out a bit.”
“Antonio, excited doesn’t even begin to describe what my mother is. I’m sure the entire house is going to look like a Pepto Bismol factory exploded inside.”
I pull up in front of my mother’s house and put the vehicle in park before texting my cousin Dutton to come out and help me. By the time he jogs out, I have the back of the black Escalade open to reveal a pink-wrapped box.
“What the hell is that?” he asks, standing beside me with his hands on the hips of his Wranglers.
“That,” I say, pointing at the ridiculously enormous gift, “is a top of the line stroller and car seat combo. It reclines into six different positions, has aerospace-grade foam for safety, and comes programmed with fifteen sounds of nature soundtracks. It’s also Bluetooth compatible, so Phoenix can control the sound with the buttons on his steering wheel. ”
“Christ, does the fucking thing fly?”
“Actually, yes. It’s FAA approved for plane travel.”
Dutton rolls his eyes but helps me maneuver it into the house, which, as I suspected, is bursting with pink, from the seven balloon arches to the roses on every flat surface to the three-tiered cake.
A few minutes later, Dutton and I are surveying a platter of cookies shaped like various baby items. “Is that a diaper?” he whispers, pointing at one of the cellophane-wrapped treats.
My nose wrinkles. “Yep. I know it’s just a cookie, but I can’t bring myself to eat a diaper.” I select a different one. “I think I’ll have a rattle.”
Dutton tilts his head before choosing his. “I’m going with the pink rocking horse.”
“I’m so shocked the cowboy chose a horse,” I tease as we unwrap our desserts. We each take a bite and let out simultaneous groans as the buttery sugar flavor hits our taste buds.
“That’s damn good,” Dutton says, holding his cookie up to my mouth. “Here, take a bite of my horse’s ass.”
“Dutton Hale!” my mother says, appearing from out of nowhere to smack his arm. “Language! This is a baby shower, not a biker bar.”
“Sorry, Aunt Ophelia,” he drawls, kissing her cheek. She looks so youthful in a pink dress with flyaway sleeves and a ruffle around the bottom.
“You know bikers aren’t the only people who cuss, right, Mom?” I ask, earning me a glare.
“I’m aware, Mr. Smarty Pants, but we’re all going to have to clean up our language once the baby gets here.”
“Phoenix is her father. Her first word will probably be fu—” I cut myself off when my mom’s brown eyes constrict to slits. “Funny,” I amend, and Dutton chokes on a bite of his horse cookie. I hope it was the ass end.
Mom’s lifted eyebrow tells me she’s not fooled. “You two better behave. The mayor is coming tonight.” Her eyes flit to the front door. “Oh shit. I mean shoot. There she is.” And with a final warning glare, she flits off like a pink butterfly to greet the new guests.
Dutton chuckles. “I swear, your mother is one of my favorite people in the world.”
I eat the rest of my cookie and smile fondly. “Mine too.”
“Does she have a special man in her life?”
Now it’s my turn to choke. “Wh-what? Why would you ask that?”
My cousin pounds me on the back and gives me a wry grin. “Why not? Aunt Ophelia’s a pretty lady, and she’s been divorced for years. I bet she goes out partying at the club every weekend trying to pick herself up a stud for the evening.”
A growl escapes from my throat at that mental image. “Dutton…”
He hoots out a laugh. “Dude, chill. I’m just kidding about the club. She probably gets her studs at a martini bar or something.”
“Do not use the word stud in the same sentence as my mother’s name,” I warn.
“How about gentlemen callers?”
I scrunch my nose. “That seems somehow worse.” My mind works back through the years.
“I’ve never really thought about it, but Mom never dated while we were still living at home, unless it was on the weekends we were with Dad.
I did see her out with a guy at a restaurant a couple years ago, but I could tell it wasn’t going well when I stopped by the table to say hi.
He was some investment banker or something, and she looked bored to tears. ”
We both look over to where she’s laughing with the mayor and a group of other friends. “You know lots of people, Remi. You should set your mom up on a date with a nice older guy. Just look at her. She’s still young and vibrant.”
Reaching for another cookie, I unwrap the pink elephant and snap its trunk off. “I would love to, but I can’t think of a single man who would ever be good enough for my mother.”