Chapter 43 – Alejandro
Chapter
Forty-Three
ALEJANDRO
Iwait on the steps of the old brownstone with Jax by my side.
I have no idea what I hope to gain from this meeting, but I know I have to explore every possible avenue.
There have still been no demands made, no way to get them back, and as time ticks away, the chances of finding them both alive are diminishing.
Alana says she’s not been in touch with her parents, but I have to consider that’s possible. Maybe she told one of them about Lucia’s appointment.
A few moments later, the door is opened by a woman I assume to be the housekeeper. “I’m here to see Foster Carmichael,” I say.
She looks both Jax and me over. “I’m sorry, he’s not in.”
“That’s okay. We’ll wait,” I say with a smile. “This is concerning his daughter, Alana.”
At the mention of Alana’s name, she hesitates. “Hold on for a moment,” she says, closing the door and returning a moment later.
“Mr. Carmichael will see you now,” she says curtly as she allows us inside.
“Thought he wasn’t home?” Jax mutters under his breath.
We’re shown into the sitting room where Foster Carmichael is sitting with his wife, Alana’s mother, Audrey.
I only met her once before, at our wedding.
She cried through the whole thing. Alana assumed they were tears of happiness, as her mother had had no idea about our original business arrangement, most notably that her father had sold her to me.
As far I am aware, she still has no clue.
Alana’s descriptions painted a picture of a weak, fragile woman, constantly ill or depressed. She stays silent as we enter the room.
“Alejandro. Jackson,” Foster says as we sit on the sofa.
I stare at him, trying to read him and determine if he has any idea of the reason we are there.
I’ve managed to keep Alana and Lucia’s kidnapping out of the news.
It’s better to work in secret than have the whole media circus surrounding us.
I already have the best of the LAPD’s resources at my disposal anyway.
“What brings you here, gentlemen?” Foster asks as he leans back in his wingback chair, his hands steepled under his chin. The perfect elder statesman pose.
“I came to ask you a question, Carmichael. And if you lie to me…” I don’t need to finish that sentence. He is well aware of what will happen if I ever want him to disappear. He glances at his wife meaningfully, as though warning me not to speak like this in front of her.
“And what is that?” he asks. Audrey shifts in her seat and looks between me and her husband, her head tilted like a little bird.
“Do you know where Alana is right now?”
He frowns at me in bewilderment. If he isn’t lying, then he is a good actor—but I already knew that.
“I don’t know the answer to that, Alejandro. As you know, she has disowned me and her mother. But I think the more pressing question here is why don’t you know where she is?” He sounds upset, and I wonder how genuine it is. Does this man even give a shit about Alana?
I stare at him and then at his wife.
“What the hell is going on, Montoya? Where is my daughter?” he shouts.
“I don’t know,” I reply as I lean back against the sofa. If he thinks his histrionics will intimidate me, he’s even more of a fool than I thought.
Audrey’s hand flies to her face as she takes it all in “You don’t know where she is?” he splutters. “Has she had enough of you, finally come to her senses?”
“She has been kidnapped,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm and steady while my heart hammers so hard against my ribcage I wonder how everyone in the room can’t hear it.
Audrey slumps against her chair while Foster jumps up out of his. “What? How do I not know about this? When? Who?” he stammers as he paces up and down the room.
“Just over a day ago.”
“A day,” he rages at me. “A whole day, and you’re only just telling me? Why isn’t it all over the news? Why isn’t my daughter’s face all over the television? I’m a public figure, there should be coverage.”
I shouldn’t be surprised that he’s already making this about him, and because he’s a self-serving asshole, he’ll already be weighing up the angles and the implications for him and his career.
“Because, in my experience, it is much better to handle these things quietly and discreetly. We will not be using Alana’s kidnapping to draw attention to ourselves. You will not do that.”
“You think I want to use her disappearance in some way?” he snaps.
“Well, it wouldn’t be the worst thing you’ve ever done, would it, Carmichael?” I remind him.
He surprises me by making a lunge for me. I didn’t think he had it in him. I’m quicker, younger, and he’s probably never had a proper fight in his entire privileged life. I’m off my feet before he can reach me. I grab him by the throat, pushing him back into his chair and holding them there.
Fuck, I’d like to squeeze the life out of him, but I cannot kill Alana’s father, no matter how difficult their relationship is.
“This isn’t helping anyone,” I snarl. “So, sit down, and think long and hard about anyone you may have upset enough that they would take your daughter. As you said, you’re a public figure.
You’re also a man with…secrets.” I leave that hanging there, and his face pales. He nods weakly, and I let him go.
I know all about his tastes in young women, and the fact that he got one of them pregnant.
A girl he later had killed. That resulted in her dad threatening my wife with a gun, so it’s not beyond the pale to suggest he might have somehow caused more trouble for us.
Unlikely, but possible. This is where I’m at right now. Desperate.
“You think this was something to do with Foster?” a small voice from beside me pipes up. Alana’s mother is still in the room, using her voice for the first time.
I turn to her. She is impossibly thin. She looks frail and half-vacant. It makes me wonder who Alana gets her fire and her assertiveness from. “It’s a possibility.”
“I trusted you to look after her,” Foster snipes, rubbing his throat. “I can’t believe you let her slip away from under your nose.”
I whirl around, get up in his face. I’ve just about had it.
He’s more concerned with point scoring than the whereabouts of his own daughter.
“Listen to me, you selfish son of a bitch. I did not let her slip away. She was taken from me! And I will kill every single person who has ever even looked at her if I have to, but I need her back with me. And so I need you to fucking think—is there anyone from your world I should be going for?” My voice cracks with the emotion.
Carmichael finally stops posturing and gives it some thought.
“I can’t think of anyone off the top of my head.
No-one who would do anything like this. But I will give you a list of the people I may have…
upset…in recent years,” he agrees. “And you have all of my resources at your disposal.”
“I have my own resources,” I snap. “Send the list to me as soon as you have it. And let me know if you think of anything helpful. Do not go to the press with this, Carmichael. I am warning you.”
“I’ll give you another forty-eight hours, Montoya. But after that, I am contacting the FBI.”
I glare at him.
“She is my daughter!”
“She was. Until you fucking sold her to me, you narcissistic prick!” I spit. Audrey looks confused, but then again, she’s been confused since we got here. “Get me the names.”
He sits back in his chair again, but I have no doubt he means it. He will go to the Feds if I don’t find Alana soon. And if I don’t find her soon, I doubt I will find her alive.
My legs almost buckle beneath me at the thought of never seeing her again. Of never telling her how much I love her. Of our last conversation being me letting her believe I regretted our marriage.
I push the thoughts out of my head. They serve me no purpose right now. “Come on. We’ve got a plane to catch,” I say to Jax.
A few moments later, the two of us are in our car being driven to the airport.
“Do you think he’ll come up with anything useful?” Jax asks.
“No,” I shake my head. “I don’t think it has anything to do with him. But I had to be sure. Had to look that fucker in the eye myself and make sure.”
“I understand, amigo,” he replies.
“Did you believe him, too?”
“Yup,” Jax nods. “I don’t think he has a clue where Alana and Lucia are either.”
That’s the fucking problem right there. Nobody does.
Carmichael was my Hail Mary. Bobby Conroy doesn’t have the cojones for this.
And besides, there’s no way Alana would share personal information with the likes of him.
Jax has checked all our tech for breaches, and I’ve been hands on and bloody for the last day.
So far, nobody has any clue where they are.