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“Hold on,” Smith says, and there’s silence on the line for about twenty seconds. “Okay, he’s got eyes on you. I’d prefer you wait for Jax and talk to him before you do what you’re about to do, but I know I can’t stop you.”
“Especially not now that I ate. I’m feeling better.”
“Be careful, Emma.”
“He’s my brother, Smith. He’s not going to hurt me.”
“Don’t be flippant Emma or I swear—”
“I’m not. I’ll be careful.” I hang up and start walking, replaying the events of last night, trying to remember anything that tells me who did this. Obviously, my brother and Randall didn’t get into the castle. They hired someone and that means someone who knew the castle. But no one, including Jax, seemed to even know about the elevator working. It makes no sense unless—it must have been Echo. He’d know the castle. He’d know things even Jax might not know about the castle. He was there as an adult all the years Jax was a kid.
I dial Smith. “What about Echo? Did we find him?”
“He’s a ghost. The only logical explanations are either he’s dead and buried, or he left by water where there wouldn’t be cameras.”
“He’d know the castle to get to me.”
“Good point.”
“And Jax’s mother. Anything?”
“Same story with her. The only way to not be found by us is as I already described. You’re dead or you’re completely off-grid and underground.”
My office building comes into view. “I’m here.” I disconnect and think of myself in that bed, naked. I think of Jax in that airplane scared for me. He’s lost his brother and father recently. I can’t imagine the blame game he’s playing with himself right now. My anger burns hot, and I charge forward.
Once I’m inside the building, I ignore the guards. They know me. I hope like hell none of them have been alerted to tell my brother when I arrive. Because, of course, he knows this is coming. I weave through the crowd, nose down, avoiding staff who know me and feel relief over my success. I head to the stairwell because, despite the long walk up, that’s the best way to assure my brother doesn’t get word that I’m in the building. One text message, and he knows I’m here.
Of course, I soon find a drugged undernourished person does not walk a ton of stairs easily, but I get it done. I’m about to exit to my floor, which is also my brother’s floor when my phone rings with Jax’s number. I lean on the wall and answer. “Jax?”
“Emma.” His voice is rough, affected. “Thank God, baby. You have no idea how worried I’ve been.”
“Jax,” I whisper, and just talking to him is like coming home. “You didn’t think I left on my own, right?”
“No. I never thought that. I knew better. I knew we were—are—”
“We are,” I say. “We so are.”
“Yes, baby, we are. Are you okay?”
“Yes. I’m weak, and I’m shaken, but I’m in fight mode, too. Are you here?”
“Five minutes from your offices. Wait on me.”
“I can’t do that. He won’t talk to me and tell me the truth if you’re here. Wait for me downstairs. Text me when you get here and tell me where to find you.”
“Emma—”
“I have to talk to my brother on my own.” It kills me, but I disconnect the line, shove the phone in my purse and open the stairwell door.
Chapter one hundred thirteen
Emma
Icharge down the hallway toward my brother’s office, only to discover Randall walking in my direction, his expensive suit fitted to perfection and screaming money. That’s his intent, too. He’s arrogant. He’s an asshole.
“Emma,” he greets, and as if proving my point about him being an arrogant asshole, he adds, “I knew you disappearing was a stunt. Glad to see you came to your senses and got your ass back home.”
That’s it. He’s pushed me over the edge. I close the space between us, and I don’t stop until he’s within reach at which point I slap him in the face. “What the fuck?!” he growls, and when I attempt to repeat that slap, he catches my wrist. “What the hell are you doing?”
