Chapter 44 The Late Night
THE LATE NIGHT
EMMA
I've showered, changed into pajamas, made tea I didn't drink, and reorganized the throw pillows twice. Dance class wore me out, but sleep is impossible. The penthouse feels too big tonight, the silence pressing against my chest.
Kai said he might be late. I told myself I'd be fine.
The screen on my phone glows. Already past midnight. This isn't late. This is wrong.
I call him. It rings once, twice, three times before going to voicemail. I hang up without leaving a message and try again. Same result.
My thumb hovers over Logan's name. Maybe they're together. Maybe there's a simple explanation.
Straight to voicemail.
The panic starts in my chest. A familiar tightening that steals my breath. I sink onto the couch, pressing my fists into my thighs. Focus, Emma. Breathe. In through your nose, out through your mouth.
The exercises don't work. Not tonight. Not when every worst-case scenario is clawing at the edges of my mind.
Kai wouldn't do this. He learned. He texts, he calls, he sends voice messages. He knows what silence does to me. If he could reach out, he would.
Which means he can't.
My fingers tremble as I grab my laptop and pull up my work emails. The ELK client contact list. Ethan's number is there, buried in a chain from the campaign kickoff months ago.
“Hello?”
“Ethan, it's Emma. Emma Sinclair.”
“Emma?” His voice sharpens. “What's wrong?”
The words tumble out. “Kai hasn't come home. It's almost one in the morning. I've tried calling him and Logan, but neither of them is answering.”
There's a shuffle on the other end, the sound of him moving. “Hang on. Let me check something.”
I hear tapping, his breathing steady but focused. The seconds stretch into eternity.
“Shit,” he mutters.
“What? What is it?”
“Their phones are offline. Both of them.”
I sink deeper into the couch, legs too shaky to hold me. “What does that mean?”
“I don't know yet,” Ethan admits. “Could be dead zones, could be battery. Could be something else. Hold on, I need to call Maddox and see how else we can track them. I'm sending Tank to you now. Stay put until he gets there. I'll call you back.”
The call ends, and the silence rushes back. The tightness in my chest spreads, vision narrowing at the edges. No. Not now. Not a panic attack. Not now.
I try to breathe, focusing on the rhythm. In through my nose, out through my mouth. Shaky at first, but after a few breaths, the tightness eases just enough.
Without thinking, my fingers dial a familiar number.
“Hi, you've reached Lila Sinclair. I'm not available right now, but please leave a message, and I'll get back to you soon!”
My mom's voice.
It crashes into me. A wave I can't stop. The warmth in her tone, the practiced cheerfulness that always made the worst days feel manageable. How many times have I called this number just to hear her voice?
The beep sounds, waiting for me to speak.
What would I say? That I'm scared? That the person who makes me feel safe is out there somewhere, unreachable? That I can't breathe knowing he might not come home?
For so long, this voicemail was my lifeline. Tonight, it's not enough.
I hang up, the realization sharp and undeniable. My mom's voice isn't what I need anymore.
It's Kai.
He's become my anchor. Right now, that anchor feels miles out of reach.
A shadow moves in the doorway.
I scream, tumbling off the couch. The hardwood is unforgiving against my knees, but I barely notice. My heart is galloping. A figure looms. Big and imposing.
“Whoa, easy.” The deep, gravelly voice is familiar. “It's me.”
Tank steps into the light, his hands raised. “Ethan said you knew I was coming.”
I scramble to my feet, leaning on the coffee table for support. “A heads-up about you having a key would've been nice.”
He shrugs, shedding his jacket. “Let myself in. You good?”
“I'm fine.” My voice is steadier than I feel. “What's the plan?”
“You stay here. Prospects are on their way to keep watch. I'll handle finding Rhodes.”
“Excuse me?” I glare at him.
Tank steps closer, his massive frame towering over me. “You're not going out there.”
My chin jerks up. “And who's going to stop me?”
His jaw tightens. He mutters something that sounds like, “Rhodes… hands full… this one.”
“I heard that.”
Tank sighs, drags a hand down his face. “Look, I get it. You're worried. But this isn't your fight.”
“Kai is my fight.” I stand my ground. “If you think I'm going to sit here and wait, you don't know me.”
He studies me for a long moment, then shakes his head. “Fine. You follow my lead. No arguments. If I say duck, you duck.”
“Got it.”
“Go get ready. We leave in five.”
I head for the bedroom and grab jeans, a black sweater, boots. When I step back into the living room, Tank is leaning against the counter, phone to his ear. He ends the call as I approach.
“Got an update. Rhodes went to confront his mother tonight. He suspects she’s behind the sabotage of his bike. Parker went with him. Last known location was the Hammond estate.”
My stomach twists. “His mother? She actually...”
“We don't know anything yet. That hacker of yours is working on tracking them. Let's move.”
The elevator descends to the underground garage. Tank stands rigid beside me, his presence somehow reassuring.
The garage is dimly lit, rows of sleek vehicles gleaming under fluorescent lights. I guide him to a black Jeep in the corner.
“That'll do,” Tank says. “I drive.”
I let him. Right now it's not the moment to assert my independence. My neck is tense, shoulders contracted. I'm glad Tank seems calm.
The engine roars to life. We're barely out of the garage when his phone rings. He answers, presses a button on the dashboard.
Ethan's voice fills the cabin. “Emma, you there?”
“I'm here.”
“Maddox pulled security footage from the Hammond estate. We see them arriving at the gate. After that, nothing. No footage of them leaving. Maddox is working on hacking Helena's phone to see if there's anything useful.”
“How long will that take?”
“He's fast. Sit tight.”
The call ends. Tank's hands tighten on the wheel as we speed through empty streets.
“Do you think we'll find them in time?” I ask quietly.
Tank glances at me. “Rhodes is a tough bastard. Parker too. They'll hold their own until we get there.”
I nod, though the knot in my chest doesn't loosen.
“Thank you for this,” I say. “For helping.”
He shrugs. “Rhodes has the respect of the club. And you're my main priority.”
“I just need him to be okay.”
“We'll get him back,” Tank says. “One way or another.”
Silence settles between us, but it's not uncomfortable.
“You'd make a good old lady,” Tank says after a while.
I snort. “All I know about old ladies is from Sons of Anarchy. Pretty sure I'd fail miserably.”
Tank chuckles. “It's not like that. Not all the time.”
“What's the job description then?”
“Loyal. Tough. Smart enough to know when to step in and when to let your man figure his own shit out.” He glances at me. “Someone real.”
“That's surprisingly reasonable.”
He grins. “What'd you expect? Must love Harleys?”
“Something like that.”
“That's a bonus, not a requirement.”
For a moment, the tension eases. Then exhaustion hits, the emotional toll of the night crashing over me.
“I just need to rest my eyes,” I mumble, leaning against the headrest.
“You do that.” Tank presses a button. Warmth spreads through the seat, relaxing my muscles.
I drift into a dreamless sleep, trusting Tank to get us where we need to go.