42. Chapter 42
42
Brody
“Well?” Miles paces my office. He hasn’t left since we spoke with Mel earlier.
She refused to grant me access to our systems again, giving me no way to help or even follow her team’s footsteps in tracking down Sophie.
I shush Miles with a wave of my hand, and switch to speakerphone, setting the phone on the desk.
“These brothers are a piece of work,” says Mel.
“We knew that,” I mutter, frustrated. “Mel, please. It’s been hours.” There’s no point trying to keep the desperation from my voice.
“We found her car at a coffee shop near her apartment. I have someone driving it over to your place.”
“She wasn’t in it?” I demand.
“Brody.” Mel sighs and my stomach drops. My mouth goes dry. Is that a good sigh or a bad sigh?
“What is it?”
“My team thinks they’ve found her.” Mel is quiet and I wonder, yet again, who this team is that she assigned Sophie’s safety to. “I have someone heading to you. He’s ex-military.”
“What? Why is he coming here?” I frown at the phone .
“Because,” she sighs again, “I know that if I don’t make him take you two idiots, you’ll find a way to get there first and get yourselves hurt or worse.”
She’s not wrong. She has to know that I’ve been trying for hours to get back into Harp’s systems, but I built the security well. I never thought I’d have to break in, so I didn’t give myself a way to do so.
“Thank you.”
“Just don’t get yourselves hurt. Those two are dangerous men.”
“So his brother is here too?” asks Miles, stepping toward the phone.
“Unfortunately,” Mel mutters. “Booker should be there soon.”
She hangs up and Miles looks at me in confusion.
“Do you know anything about this Booker?”
“He’s news to me.”
The waiting is the hardest part. Knowing what Caleb and his brother are capable of, knowing Sophie has been with them for hours. I’m losing my mind. Miles returns to pacing even once we move to the living room to wait for Booker.
“It’s going to be ok.” I feel like I have to be the voice of reason here even though I’m dangerously close to falling off the edge into insanity. “Mel only works with the best.” That’s true, at least. “Booker will find her.”
“Brody, I didn’t-” A choked sob cuts off his words. The only time I’ve ever seen him like this is when his father died. “Never mind.”
The doorbell rings and Miles freezes, staring at the front door, leaving me to answer it.
The man on our doorstep may not be as tall as I am, but he’s wide, filling the doorway with his huge frame. His long-sleeve, black shirt is tight enough, making it look like his muscles have muscles. The sleeves are pushed up to reveal one arm covered in black ink. Or rather, the darkest gray with black tattooed over it in geometric designs. The other arm has more colorful artwork. More tattoos with jewel tones snake up from beneath the neck of his shirt and up his head, disappearing beneath jet-black hair which is shaved on the sides. I stare at the artwork for a moment, forgetting that I should probably speak.
“Booker,” I say, by way of greeting. My voice is hoarse.
“You must be Brody,” he grunts, then looks past me at Miles. “Fucking civilians. If I tell you to hide or shut up or run, you fucking do it. Understood?”
“Understood.” I nod and Miles echoes his agreement.
“Let’s go get your girl.”