Chapter Fourteen I Won’t Give Up
I Won’t Give Up
Joseph
IT’S BEEN AN HOUR SINCE MICHAEL dropped everything to find Samantha. I don’t know how he does it, but he always seems to know where she is. I assume he still has a tracker on her after all this time. He’s not taking any chances. I’m thankful for that.
I’m home, pacing. I told my family to proceed with Thanksgiving without us. I made Fin promise to stay there and make sure we don’t ruin dinner for them. The last thing I need is Dad and Mom up here in my business—my sexual business—my love life, my future, my world.
“William, sit the fuck down. Or better yet, go to Fin’s and get a bottle of his Macallan,” I bark, pointing to the front door like he doesn’t know where it is.
It’s okay for me to pace, but his pacing only agitates me further.
“Yes, sir.” He exits quietly. These ex-military guys move with such stealthy precision—it’s unsettling at times.
I text Fin so he doesn’t freak out about one of his precious bottles missing. I’m sure he has his stash plotted out to the ounce on some multicolored spreadsheet somewhere. His reply is instantaneous, “Take what you need, brother.”
Always there. Always supportive. Always has my back. That’s Fin.
My phone dings again.
Michael: Sam is in penthouse 2C. Another package was delivered. Send William down, and I’ll come up as soon as I get her settled.
Relief floods me knowing she’s safe and close, but not nearly as close as I want her. I promised Michael I’d give him time to deal the situation before I barged in, possibly making it worse.
Me: I sent William on a Macallan run. I’ll send him over as soon as he gets back. Tell her I love her. She’s not answering her phone.
Michael: Good, you’re gonna need it. Have a couple of glasses to calm yourself down. I can hear your pacing from here. She turned her phone off. I’ll tell her.
Me: I’m dying here. I need my girl. I need to know she’s okay.
Michael: You’re gonna have to trust me. This is bad. Really fucking bad. She’s not okay, but she’s safe. I’ll always keep her safe.
“Fuck!” I set my phone on the breakfast bar before I throw it across the room. How can anything be worse than that video? I can’t imagine what’s in this next package, but if Michael says it’s bad, then it’s probably horrific—like worst nightmare horrific.
I change into a t-shirt and workout pants. It’s gonna be a long day, and I need to run to work off some of my agitation. In the living room I find Jace and William pouring tumblers of the only scotch whisky that passes my lips, thanks to Fin’s good taste.
“I hope one of those is for me.” I flop down on the couch facing the door. I don’t want to miss a second of scrutinizing Michael when he enters.
“They both are, if you need it, but I was hoping to join you.” Jace hands me a glass before sitting across from me. “Have you heard anything?”
“William, Michael is with Samantha in penthouse 2C. He’d like you to go down there so he can come here to fill us in.”
“On it, sir.” He swiftly departs.
“Your mom sent over food. I left it on the counter, not knowing if you’d want to eat it while it’s still relatively warm.” Jace takes a sip of his whisky.
I, on the other hand, swallow it in one sweet-burning gulp. “Thanks, but I think I’m good with this for right now.”
He refills my glass. “Don’t get shit-faced, brother. You’re gonna need a clear brain when Michael gets here.”
“Funny. Michael told me I needed to get a couple of drinks in. Do you know something?”
He laughs. “No, I know my sister. She never would have asked for Michael instead of you unless it was something really bad and incriminating against you.”
“Fuck,” I hiss and take a slow sip this time.
“You don’t have any idea what’s happened?”
“Another package was delivered. Samantha ditched William at the grocery store and came here, and asked Michael to meet her, sans me.”
“That completely blows.”
My sentiments exactly.
Except for the calming music Jace turned on a few moments ago, we sit in silence while we wait for Michael.
We both jump up when the door opens. Michael looks worn out, like he’s been up for two days straight instead of the five to six hours it’s actually been. It’s still early afternoon. His white button-down is rumpled and untucked, and I don’t miss the smear of mascara on his chest.
“She’s been crying?” I point to his shirt as I sit down on unsteady legs.
He pulls at his shirt, examines it, and then shrugs. “Yeah.” In the kitchen he grabs a beer and then joins us in the seating area.
I wait. Impatiently.
He opens his beer, tossing the lid on the coffee table, and sets a manila envelope on his knee. After a long drink, he looks at me. “This was delivered to her in the women’s restroom at the grocery store.”
“Fuck. Is she okay? Did she see them? Did they hurt her?” Questions charge from my mouth like a runaway train.
He holds up his hand. “How ’bout you let me tell you, then you can ask questions?”
Testy. A testy Michael is not good. I simply nod. Otherwise, I might have to punch him.
“She’s fine. Physically. She didn’t see anyone. No one hurt her.”
“Why did she ditch William?” Jace asks.
“I think once you see what’s in this envelope, you won’t ask that question.” Michael looks to me. “I need to show you these in private.” He points at Jace. “I’ll explain why after.” He gets up, taking his beer and the envelope, and heads to my office.
I finish off my scotch and follow, dread eating me up as I go. I close the door behind me and face Michael.
“You’re going to need to sit down.” He motions to the couch.
After I sit, he hands me a set of gloves that match the ones he’s already wearing. I slip them on as he pulls something out of the envelope and sits on the coffee table in front of me.
“There’s no way to warn you, other than to say it’s bad. Really, really bad.”
I nod my understanding. What is there really to say other than let’s get it the fuck over with!
He was right to warn me. There’s no way to prepare for what I see.
I stare at it in disbelief. “I see it, but I don’t believe it.
There is no way that’s me.” I point at the woman’s pelvis.
“I’ve never been with a woman with a tattoo.
I have no idea what that one says, but I’m pretty sure I’d remember, with it staring me in the face in that position.
” I hand it back to Michael. “Don’t look so fucking pissed. It’s not me.”
Silently, he hands me the next picture. Same position, same woman, except her face is showing. “I’ve never…wait.” I stand and then sit again. “Son of a bitch! That’s the woman from the happy hour. The one Fin was questioning me about. She’s a British tourist.”
“Do you know her name?”
“No.” I shrug and hand him back the pic. “I only talked to her for a few minutes. She and her friend wanted a selfie with me. That’s the night Samantha stayed home, upset because of the whole betting pool thing. Remember?”
He groans. “Don’t remind me. That’s the day I stuck my foot in my mouth and hurt her feelings.”
“It’s a sensitive issue for her. And this shit right here is not helping.” I catch his gaze. “She thinks I’ve cheated on her, doesn’t she? Because of these pics.”
“Let’s finish with the contents before we jump into what she’s thinking. I need both your and Jace’s feedback on these pics. It’s quite a puzzle, and it seems each of you may have input to help pull it all together.”
I hold out my hand. “Hit me.”
He lays the third pic on my hand. “Ah, Christ.” I close my eyes and turn my head. “That’s Lydia.” I try to hand it back to him.
“I’m sorry, man, but I really need you to look at these pics in detail and tell me what you see.” He pushes my hand away.
Drawing a deep breath, I look at the pic again. But instead of looking at Lydia, I look at the guy. “That’s not me. That’s not my body. It may be my face, but this dude is skinner than me.”
“What else do you see?”
“Uh…shit is that Vegas?” I look up. “Holy fuck, Samantha thinks I cheated on her in Vegas.” I drop the pic and storm out of the office.
“Jace, don’t let him go,” Michael yells.
Jace jumps in front of me, holding me back. “Joe, just wait. Wait.” He looks behind me at Michael.
“I’ve got to see her, Jace. She thinks I cheated on her.”
“Joe, we need to finish this. It’s going to take the three of us to figure this out.
Until we do that, she’s not going to see you.
I promised her I’d find the truth. I intend to do that, but I can’t do it without your help.
Don’t make her suffer longer than she has to.
Come back to the office, and let’s finish this.
She’s going to need real proof this time. ”
My head falls forward. He played the Samantha’s suffering card, knowing there is no way I’d knowingly cause her any more pain. I back down.
“Jace, grab the Macallan and join us.” Michael squeezes my shoulder as I reenter my office.
Michael collects the pictures, gives Jace some gloves, and repeats the same process he did with me, handing Jace one photo at a time.
Jace glances at the first one and then at me, his brow raised.
“Jace, I swear to you. That is not me.” I point to the guy in the photo.
He shakes his head. “This is taking our relationship to a whole different level.” His gaze bounces between Michael and me before landing back on the pic. He squints. “This guy is too skinny to be you.”
“See, I told you,” I say to Michael.
“Hey, do you have a magnifying glass?” Jace asks, looking closer at the photo. “That tattoo looks familiar.”
“I think I have one—” I start to say.
“I don’t think you’ll need it once you see the next picture. “Michael hands Jace the second photo.
“No fucking way.” Jace looks at the photo, to me, and back to the photo. “Joe, do you know who this is?”
He says it like he knows who it is. “Who?”
“You don’t recognize her?” He holds up the pic to my face.
“Wait.” I look at Michael. “How does he know who it is? I only met her that one time at the bar. Jace wasn’t there.”