Chapter 21
Twenty-One
“ W hat do you mean you don’t know where she is?” I sneer at my father-in-law, Gerard, staring at him from across his desk.
Gerard’s throat bobs, and he stares at me with eyes round with fear. “She’s not here,” he stammers out. “Her phone and car are here, but she’s nowhere to be found.”
“When did she leave?” Adrian asks as he scrolls through the footage of Gerard’s home security system. It is nothing like the one we have, but it is better than nothing.
“Right before the reception,” he tells us. “She said she had a migraine and said she would grab a cab back home.”
That was six hours ago.
“There is nothing on the security cameras,” Adrian says. “She never came back here.”
Gerard looks at us, confused. “She would have had to come back here if her phone is still here. She had it with her at the reception.”
“Or she had one that looked like her phone,” I huff, typing away on my own phone to see if I can get any records of Charity LaMontagne purchasing electronics in the last few months.
“You guys are going to want to see this,” Hiro declares urgently as he walks into the room with his tablet and what looks to be Charity’s phone, the one she left here. “I called Vitali for help, but I was able to get into her phone as well as pull up all calls or texts she deleted in the last several years. I found these to be very interesting. It looks like she had a mirror program placed on Evaline’s phone so that she could monitor any incoming and outgoing messages and calls.”
He pulls up the app.
“Motherfucker,” I hiss when I see who my wife had been texting before she ran three years ago. “Are you sure this is her phone it came from?”
Hiro nods. “It traces back to the same number Evaline had before she pulled her runaway bride.”
“What does this mean?” Adrian looks over the messages, but he doesn’t get the significance like we do.
“We never found out who exactly helped Evaline pull her disappearing stunt,” I inform him. “We thought she managed to get a hold of some of her parents’ cash, or maybe she was earning money we weren’t aware of, but the fake IDs and social security cards in her car when we found her weren’t the work of an amateur. They are high-dollar fakes.”
“Someone was funding her escape,” Adrian surmises, and I nod.
“Not just anyone,” I growl. “Someone who has deep ties to the flesh trade. I know this number. She was supposed to meet them after she escaped the church, except she never showed up.”
“Who?” I hand the phone over to her father. His face pales. So he recognizes the number as well.
“But why?” he wonders as he continues to scroll through the phone. “What did he have to gain from helping her escape?”
Hiro shakes his head. “I don’t think it was about helping her escape. It was a way to lure her to him without anyone suspecting him. She would disappear, and everyone would think she ran away.”
“What does he have to gain?” Adrian wonders. “Unless he’s the buyer…”
Shit.
“Hiro!” I bark.
“On it.” He’s already got his phone in his hand and is dialing Wataru. “Shit.”
Wataru isn’t picking up.
I dial my wife’s number. She should be at home sleeping. It’s late.
It rings.
Pick up.
Pick up.
“Hello?” her voice is groggy, as if I’ve woken her.
“Evaline.” I breathe her name in relief.
“What’s wrong?” She’s more alert now, no doubt hearing the strain in my voice.
Swallowing hard, I shake my head and sigh. “Nothing,” I tell her. “I just wanted to make sure you were going to answer when I called.” My wife huffs.
“Are you kidding me?” she says angrily. “I was sleeping, you asshat. It’s the middle of the night.”
I can’t help but smile at the sass in her voice.
“Get some sleep, firecracker.”
“I was doing that before you called.” Then the phone is silent. Chuckling, I drop the phone onto the desk.
“Wataru texted. Everything’s good. He’s in the bathroom.”
Well, that is a relief. I turn to Gerard.
“We’ll discuss this more tomorrow,” I warn him. “You need to find out where the fuck your wife went. Because if I find her first, you won’t like what I do to her.” Gerard nods his head, but I can see his jaw tightening, the muscles flexing ever so slightly.
“He knows more than he is saying,” Adrian says as we climb into my Escalade.
I clench my hand around the steering wheel. “There is something more going on here that we aren’t seeing.” Adrian nods.
“What do you want to do?”
“I’m going to go home and find out exactly how Santiago Alvarez helped her to escape three years ago.”
The penthouse is quiet when I return, the only sound coming from the soft murmur of voices on the main floor. The guards stationed there nod their heads respectfully as I pass by and then take their leave. As I make my way toward the table where my mother sits, I am surprised to see her still here.
My mother.
“Okaasan.” I greet her, walking toward her as she looks over a game of Igo—also known as Go. It’s an abstract strategy game that my father and I used to play together when I was growing up. The smooth wooden board is laid out in front of her, with two sets of stones—one white and one black—placed carefully on vacant points. The goal of the game is simple: to surround your opponent’s stones and capture their territory. But the execution of this goal requires a high level of strategy and foresight, making it even more challenging than chess. It was through this game that my father taught me about war and battle, the importance of thinking ten steps ahead, and displaying kai—a fighting spirit. These are the lessons that have kept me alive.
“What are you doing here so late?” I ask her, kissing the top of her head as she continues to make moves on both sides of the board. Playing solo games is a common practice. Her movements are slow and deliberate. Many Asian cultures use Go for such purposes as determining one’s personality traits. How they play helps determine if they are aggressive, greedy, thinkers, or just weak.
My mother plays the long game, considering not just immediate gains but future strategies as well.
“What happened today cannot stand.” My mother’s tone is even, but I can sense the underlying hostility beneath it.
“We are working on finding Charity,” I begin, but she cuts me off.
“That is not what I mean.” Placing another stone on the board, she turns to face me. “I have eyes and ears everywhere, my son,” she reminds me. Even now, my mother cannot turn off her spy instincts. She is deeply embedded in the Yakuza and will always have input on my leadership.
“She represents our name now,” she continues. “You cannot let her disrespect you in front of your men or your guests.”
I stare at my mother, confused.
“She questioned your orders in front of your men during the reception,” she lists off, as if reading from a report. How does she even know that? “She embarrassed you and Saori in front of high society. You cannot let her walk all over you like that. Those witless society people may not care, but those who follow you will. She is not a love match. Hell, she isn’t even a business match. She is revenge. Justice. She is?—”
“My wife, mother,” I remind her sternly. “And I will handle her as I see fit.”
Why is she so agitated about this? It’s understandable for her to want to make sure my wife understands boundaries with my men, but why involve Saori? Unless…
“Did you invite Saori?” I ask, already knowing the answer. “You don’t think that keeping Charity LaMontagne alive wasn’t revenge?” I smirk. “He forced her to stay sober during pregnancy. A pregnancy she never wanted, and then he continued to force her to raise the child she was incapable of killing. I’d say that is punishment enough.”
My mother shakes her head sadly. “I miss them both so terribly,” she murmurs. Reaching out, I wrap her in my arms and let out a long sigh.
“Me too, Okaasan . Me too.”