Chapter Thirty
ASHER
I’ve wasted so much time…
Standing by my father’s bedside, I chastise myself for waiting so long to visit him. I’ve walked past this room more times than I can count, yet this is the first time I’ve managed to walk through those double doors.
“I’m sorry, Da,” I say, not sure if he can hear me, but I need to say it anyway.
The nurse who was here when I arrived told me that he sleeps more than he’s awake. The pain meds he’s on make him drowsy, and at this late stage, it’s more about keeping him comfortable than anything else.
Late stage…
My father is dying. It’s something I’ve known for a while, but standing here face-to-face with that reality is harder than I expected.
I always thought the worst part about his death would be inheriting his title. But, in actuality, it’s knowing I’m out of time.
We’re out of time.
Seeing the progress I’ve made with my mother since I returned, I can’t help but wonder…could he and I have done the same if we had another year or two? Even six months?
I take his hand. “I’m not afraid anymore, Da,” I tell him, smiling as I think about the text Mercury sent earlier today, rambling on about all the ideas she had for different charities we could support and environmental and historical causes we could work with.
“I want to make a difference with this privilege our family’s been given, and I’m not sure if that will make you proud, but I’ve got to be my own man,” I say, thinking of the woman who changed my life. “And create my own legacy.”
He doesn’t respond. I don’t expect him to, but just as I’m about to pull away, I feel the slightest pressure, like he’s squeezing my hand.
And I smile.
I lost track of time sitting by my father’s bedside, and now I’m running late.
Afternoon tea has become something sacred to Mercury and me. It’s the only time during our hectic day when we can both sit down and enjoy an hour of alone time. Except for last week, when I acted like an asshole, I never miss it.
I’m also rarely late.
I check my watch as I walk down the hall, nearly colliding with a maid coming out of the dining room. “Sorry!” I apologize.
It’s already twenty minutes past three. I’m surprised Merc hasn’t sent a goofy selfie to demonstrate just how bored she is waiting for me. My favorite is when she sent a pic with her hand under her skirt and the text, “Tired of waiting. Starting without you.”
I’ve never run faster in my life.
But today, she’s silent. I don’t think I’ve done anything to upset her, but I pull up our chat history as I turn the corner toward the sitting room, just in case.
Her last message to me is a string of X’s and O’s, followed by a detailed description of what she wants me to do to her tonight.
It involves me using the belt from her robe in a very unconventional way.
God, I love this woman.
Unlike the other guys in Manic, I never sought the fame we experienced, but as the lead singer, I ended up with most of it. For a while, it all went to my head—the women, the money, and the constant attention.
But then I realized I’d escaped one cage only to create another. I walked away from my birthright because of the spotlight it would bring me. Instead, I just made an even brighter one for myself.
So I gave up on the idea of love years ago.
I never would have guessed that on one of the worst nights of my life, when I thought I lost everything, I was actually flying home.
To her.
I open the door to the sitting room and step inside. “Hey, sorry I’m late—” I barely finish my sentence before I glance around the room and notice I’m alone.
She’s not here.
I check my phone once more. No new texts.
Well, that’s odd.
Maybe she’s not feeling well and is resting in our suite. Just as I’m about to head there, my phone starts ringing.
It’s Mac.
“Hey,” I greet him, already out the door and heading toward our suite. “Did Evie say anything to you about Merc not feeling well? She’s not in the sitting room for tea.”
“Asher.” The way he says my name makes me stop in my tracks. My given name.
“What is it?”
“A gardener just discovered Mercury’s phone outside.”
“Okay,” I reply, unsure why he sounds so panicked. “Perhaps she dropped it on a walk? That would explain why I haven’t heard from her.”
“The screen is cracked, like someone stepped on it.”
“Call Evie—”
“I already did,” he says before he takes a slight pause. “The last time she saw her, she was headed to your suite to rest before tea.”
“I’ll go there right now.” I pick up my pace. “I’m already headed that way.”
“Ash,” he says, his tone making my throat tighten. I don’t think he’s ever addressed me so informally. I’ve always tried to persuade him to, but he never does. Not until now. My heart begins to race.
“What are you not telling me?”
“She’s not there, Ash. We’ve already looked. We’ve looked everywhere, and we can’t find her.”
Five minutes later, I’m in the security office demanding answers.
“How did this happen?”
Lewis’s team has already done a sweep through the whole house and is currently searching the estate grounds, but we’re almost certain we won’t find her there.
Why?
Because of the security footage they just showed me of her following a security guard through the foyer and out the double doors outside.
The same security guard who exited through the front gate just thirty minutes ago.
“It was the end of his shift, my lord,” Lewis explains. “No one thought anything was out of the ordinary.”
I’m trying to keep my rage in check. “But why wasn’t his car searched?” Why wasn’t he searched?
“We only check the cars coming in,” he swallows nervously. “Not the ones going out. And no one would suspect a security guard to—”
“Fuck. Fuck!” I shout, feeling helpless. She’s out there somewhere, and I don’t know who has her. Or where.
“Where are we with Meg?”
Lewis just shakes his head. “Dead end. She has an alibi.”
“An alibi for a text message?”
He nods. “Up until two weeks ago, she was in rehab.”
I squeeze my eyes shut in frustration. I don’t even ask what kind.
I don’t care because one thing I remember from Evans being in rehab is—“They take your phone and make you turn in all belongings at check-in, which means she couldn’t text on her own device, let alone a burner like the kidnapper has been using. ”
Kidnapper. I feel sick.
He looks solemn. “Correct.”
“And I doubt she’s taken any last-minute trips to Scotland since then?”
“No, my lord.”
I stare at the wall of security screens, concentrating on the one that’s frozen on Mercury’s back. Her posture is relaxed, and she doesn’t appear scared or threatened. Whoever he is must have tricked her into going out there.
“What do we know about this security guard?” I ask, trying to stay calm. Losing my composure won’t bring Merc back.
I did a shit job last week at the mere thought of her being in danger. I won’t make that mistake again. I promised her brother I would protect her with my life. This is me keeping that promise.
“His name is Ian Nicholson. He’s in his mid-twenties. Ex-military. From a small village in the Borders.”
I’m not sure why my ears cling to that specific detail. “The Borders? Where?”
Lewis has to check his employee file again. “Burnhollow,” he says.
Alarm bells start to go off in my head. “You’re sure?”
One of Lewis’s longtime, trusted security guards speaks up. “Aye. That’s the place. I remember him mentioning it not long after he started. Said it wasn’t much more than a pub, a kirk, and a dirt road.”
Feeling a mix of hope and fear, I turn to Lewis. “I need you to find any possible connections between Ian and Mitch Zegler.”
My mother gasps. “Your former bandmate?”
I grimly nod. “I dismissed him as a possible suspect before, but now I regret that. The information we could find on him didn’t make him look suspicious. He’s engaged and bought a small pub. But they live in a small village near the Borders called Burnhollow.
“It could be a coincidence,” Mac says.
“Aye, it could be,” I agree, my stomach souring with each passing minute she’s away from me. “But this time I’m not taking any chances.”
Like many private security agencies, Lewis and his team can do a lot that the police can—both legal and slightly less so. Most of their team members are either ex-cops or military, which is probably why Ian stayed under the radar.
While Lewis dives into Ian’s online profiles, I try to find something on Merc’s phone. Though the screen is broken, it still powers on, and my heart skips a beat when I see a fractured picture of the two of us lighting up her home screen background.
We’re cuddled up in bed, arms wrapped around each other and smiling from ear to ear.
“Hey.” My mother comes up to my side. “You can do this. Just breathe.”
I didn’t know I’d stopped.
I let out a shaky exhale and nod. “Yeah, okay.”
I go through her text messages, feeling like I’m invading her privacy as I search each one for a clue about her whereabouts. But every message is from before that time stamp on the security footage.
When I check her call history, my eyes widen as I glance back at the screen and then down at the length of the last call. “She was on the phone with Cash just prior to this.”
I don’t even hesitate. I hit the redial button on her phone.
“Did your date not go well, or do you just miss me that much?” The lightness in her brother’s tone breaks my heart.
And now I have to break his.
“Cash, this is Asher.”
There’s a pause, then he responds as if his gut’s already warning him something’s off. “Where’s Mercury?”
“She’s been taken.”
Another pause. “What the fuck do you mean, taken?”
I swallow my guilt and try to keep my pulse steady. “I need you to focus, Cash. You were the last to talk to her. She was seen with a security guard on surveillance, and we think he might have subdued her and snuck her past the other guards at the gate.”
“You can’t be serious.” His voice quivers.
“I wish I were,” I say. “Listen, I’m trying to keep my shit together so I can find her, so I need to know what happened in those last few minutes, Cash.”
“Fuck,” he curses, sounding as anguished as I feel. “I don’t know, Ash. We were talking about normal shit. I gave her crap about moving to Scotland. She made me promise to visit, and then that guy came in and told her that he was instructed to take her somewhere for a romantic date or something.”
“Did he say where he was taking her?”
“Don’t you think I’d fucking tell you that? Jesus, who the hell would do this? Have you called the police?”
“Yes,” I answer. “Our security director is working with the constable now. They have officers combing the area as we speak, but his team is working internally as well, trying to nail down a suspect.”
“You know who it is, don’t you?”
I pause, unsure if I should tell him this, but I decide he deserves to know every detail. I would, if the situation were reversed. “There may be a link between the missing security guard and Mitch.”
“Mitch Zegler? Are you fucking serious?” He sounds murderous. I should know. It’s exactly how the rage boiling inside my veins sounds. High-pitched. Fevered.
I spend a few more minutes explaining the connection between Ian and Mitch, and a few more talking Cash out of flying out here.
“Your daughter needs you,” I remind him.
“She’s my sister.”
“I know, mate,” I reply, my voice cracking. “And she’s the love of my fucking life. I promise I will find her.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
We say goodbye just as my phone vibrates in my pocket, and I almost jump. With a trembling hand, I pull it out, hoping it’s a message from Mercury.
It’s not.
It’s from an unknown caller, and he’s sent another photo of Mercury, bound and gagged with the words “Finder’s keepers…” written across her chest.
I’m going to fucking kill this guy.