21. Countdown to Chaos
Countdown to Chaos
Evelyn
T he gin burns down my throat as I toss back another martini while Zeke paces behind his massive mahogany desk.
His low, commanding voice fills the study as he barks orders into his phone, coordinating his men’s movements across the city.
Under normal circumstances, the authority in his tone would send shivers down my spine.
But right now, all I can focus on is the growing pit of dread in my stomach.
Leo.
My sweet, innocent nephew is out there somewhere, probably terrified, wondering why the woman who looked just like his aunt led him away from school. The thought makes me want to vomit. Or maybe that’s just the gin.
I stare into my empty glass, watching the last olive roll lazily around the bottom. How many drinks is this now? Three? Four? I’ve lost count. Right now, I’m stuck in the haze of alcohol and fear.
The ice in my glass clinks as my hand shakes. Memories of the past few hours flash through my mind like a twisted highlight reel.
“I don’t care what it takes,” Zeke growls into the phone. “Check every warehouse, every safe house, every goddamn inch of this city. And when you find them…” He lets the threat hang unfinished in the air.
I close my eyes, fighting back another wave of nausea. This is my fault. All of it. If I hadn’t been so reckless with my undercover work, if I hadn’t gotten made by Gio, if I hadn’t agreed to this marriage of convenience that’s become anything but convenient.
No.
The thought hits me with startling clarity, cutting through the gin-soaked fog in my brain. This isn’t helping anyone, least of all Leo. Drowning my fears in alcohol while Zeke moves heaven and earth to find our boy— when did I start thinking of him as our boy? —isn’t going to bring him home.
I set the glass down on Zeke’s desk harder than necessary, and he pauses mid-sentence to look at me.
“Hey,” Zeke says to whomever is on the line, “I’ll call you back.” He ends the call then gives me his full attention. “Talk to me, love.”
“I need to make a call,” I announce, pushing myself up from the leather armchair. The world tilts slightly, but I manage to steady my feet. Years of practice.
Zeke’s dark eyes narrow as he watches me. “To who?”
“My partner.” The words come out clearer than I expect, given how much I’ve had to drink. “Rissa needs to know what’s happening. We need her help.”
“Absolutely not.” His response is immediate and firm. “We can’t bring the police into this.”
“I’m not talking about the police,” I say, taking a step toward his desk. “I’m talking about my partner. My friend. Someone who has my back no matter what, someone who understands what it means to be a mother and a cop at the same time.”
He drops to his chair, tossing the phone onto his desk. “Eve—”
“No, listen to me.” I plant my hands on his desk, leaning forward.
The scent of leather and his cologne grounds me.
“I can’t keep living in these two separate worlds anymore, Zeke.
I’m a cop, yes, but I’m also your wife. Leo’s aunt.
And right now, I need both of those parts of my life working together if we’re going to get him back. ”
His jaw clenches, a muscle ticking beneath the skin. “It’s too dangerous. The fewer people who know about our situation, the better.”
“Rissa already knows something’s wrong. She’s not stupid.” I straighten up, squaring my shoulders. “And if we do this right, if we work both angles—your connections and our legal channels—we have a better chance of not just finding Leo, but making sure the people who took him pay for it.”
“You mean assuming I don’t kill them first,” he says, his voice dropping to a dangerous rumble.
“Yes.” I meet his gaze. “But wouldn’t you rather see them rot in prison, knowing every day that they failed? That they tried to hurt us and ended up destroying themselves instead?”
Something flickers in his dark eyes—approval, maybe, or respect.
He pushes back from his desk and before I can react, his hands are on my waist, pulling me onto his lap.
The move is so smooth, so natural, that my body responds before my brain can catch up.
My thighs settle on either side of his, my hands finding purchase on his broad shoulders.
“You’re incredible, you know that?” he murmurs, one hand sliding up my back to tangle in my hair. “Even now, even with everything falling apart, you’re still thinking like a cop.”
“I’m thinking like a mother.” I correct him softly. “Like someone who will do anything to protect her family.”
The word hangs heavy with meaning. Family. When did that happen? When did this arranged marriage, this business transaction meant to keep me alive, turn into something real? Something that makes my heart race when he looks at me like this, like I’m the only thing in his world that matters?
His other hand cups my face, thumb brushing across my cheekbone. “You’re right,” he says finally. “Call your partner. But Eve?” His grip in my hair tightens slightly, sending a shiver down my spine. “Be careful. I can’t lose you too.”
His jaw clenches. That wasn’t easy for him to say, and I feel it in the tension thrumming through his body. Ezekiel King doesn’t admit weakness, doesn’t show vulnerability. Except, it seems, with me.
I lean forward, pressing my forehead to his. “You won’t lose me,” I promise. “Any of us. We’re going to get Leo back, and then we’re going to make them pay for ever thinking they could touch our family.”
He kisses me then, hard and desperate, like a drowning man gasping for air.
His lips claim mine with a possessiveness that makes my head spin.
One hand grips my hip while the other keeps my head exactly where he wants it, controlling the kiss with a dominance that sends heat pooling low in my belly.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing heavily.
His eyes are dark with desire and something else, something that looks dangerously close to love.
But he doesn’t say it. He never does, even though it’s in every touch, every kiss, every time he looks at me like I’m his salvation and his damnation.
“Make your call,” he says, helping me stand on shaky legs. “I’ll have Eli drive you wherever you need to go.”
I nod, already pulling out my phone. As I scroll to Rissa’s number, I pause with my finger over the call button. “Zeke?”
He looks up from where he’s retrieving his own phone, probably to resume coordinating the search. “Yes?”
“Thank you. For trusting me with this.”
A ghost of a smile touches his lips. “I’d trust you with anything, love .” The endearment rolls off his tongue like honey, and my heart flutters. “Just make it count.”
I step out of his study, phone pressed to my ear as it rings. The hallway seems longer than usual, the elegant wallpaper and artwork blurring at the edges of my vision. Maybe I should have eaten something with all that gin.
Rissa picks up on the third ring. “Crane.”
“It’s me.” My voice comes out steadier than I feel. “We need to talk. Not at the station, somewhere private.”
There’s a pause, and I can practically hear her detective’s mind working. “The coffee shop on Fourth? The one with the terrible scones?”
“Perfect.” I glance back at Zeke’s study door, closed now but still buzzing with contained energy. “Twenty minutes?”
“I’ll be there.” Another pause. “Eve? Are you okay?”
Am I okay ? My nephew has been kidnapped by mafia thugs seeking revenge. Somewhere in this city, a little boy who trusts me to protect him is probably wondering why I haven’t come for him yet.
“No.” I answer honestly. “But I will be. We’ll talk soon.”
I end the call and lean against the wall, taking deep breaths. The gin sits heavy in my stomach, but my mind is clearer than it’s been all day. This is the right move. It has to be.
Eli appears at the end of the hallway, car keys already in hand. His massive frame fills the space, a reminder of the protection that surrounds me now—protection that somehow wasn’t enough to keep Leo safe.
“Ready to go?” he asks, his deep voice gentle despite his intimidating appearance.
I push off the wall, squaring my shoulders. “Yes,” I say, and I mean it. I’m ready to stop hiding, ready to fight back, ready to be both the cop and the wife, the protector and the protected.
Ready to bring our boy home.
“Then let’s go,” Eli says, moving toward the front door. “Boss says to keep the engine running and stay close.”
I follow him, my steps growing more certain with each stride. The gin’s effects are fading, burned away by purpose and determination. Rissa will understand. She has to. And together, we’ll find a way to make this work.
As the car pulls away from the mansion, I watch Zeke’s study window until it disappears from view. This is more than just a rescue mission now. It’s a declaration of war. And for the first time since this nightmare began, I feel like we might actually win it.
Together.
The drive to the coffee shop is silent. My mind cluttered with everything I need to tell Rissa, everything I’ve been hiding. The secrets I’ve kept from her crushing me.
Eli parks across the street as I walk into the cafe. The bell above the door chimes, and the smell of coffee and pastries hits me. A garish orange cat painting stares down at me from above the counter, its eyes somehow accusatory.
Rissa’s already there, tucked into a corner booth. Two cups of coffee sit in front of her, and tears sting my eyes at the familiar gesture. She knows my order by heart—three shots of espresso, splash of cream.
“You look like shit,” she says by way of greeting.
I slide into the booth across from her, wrapping my hands around the warm cup. “Thanks.”
“Does this mean you’re finally ready to tell me what’s going on?” Her dark eyes scan my face, cataloging every detail with the precision that makes her such a good detective.
“I don’t even know where to start.” I take a sip of coffee, the warmth spreading through me. “Everything’s such a mess.”