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“God, you’re as oblivious as you are stupid,” he chided. “I’ve been following you…watching you for days.”
Days?That didn’t make sense. Grant and I hadn’t left the ranch in over a week.
“H-how did you find me?”
“Did you actually think I wouldn’t after you ran out on our fuckingwedding?” he roared.
I didn’t bother responding. Not because his question was rhetorical, but because I was afraid of saying anything for fear of pissing him off more.
Like the flip of a switch, his rage disappeared as fast as it came, and a proud, cocky grin stretched his lips.
“It was a stroke of genius…my genius, to be exact,” he unabashedly boasted. “An acquaintance of mine works for a secret alphabet department in DC. I simply gave him your photo, and a fat stack of cash—because bribery is the only way you can achieve anything—to upload your image into a special computer. What happened next wasmagical. Here, let me show you.”
With an excited giggle—reinforcing how completely unhinged he truly was—Wesley hurried across the room. The blasé, boring, self-involved frat boy I’d known since forever was gone. In his place was a scary, unpredictable madman who’d clearly lost all grip on reality.
While he continued his trek toward a tall dresser near the door, I skimmed a glance over my surroundings. Except for the bed and dresser, there wasn’t any other furniture to be found. I didn’t recognize the room as any inside Wesley’s Central Park South townhouse, but the darkened ensuite at the foot of bed was very familiar. Though my memories were foggy and disjointed, I knew there was a toilet, vanity sink, and possibly a shower—which I desperately needed—beyond the portal.
“I knew you’d be curious, so I kept this within reach,” he preened, dragging a piece of paper from the dresser before striding back to the bed.
He gazed at the page as if it were a certificate of achievement, then flipped it over and shoved it in my face.
“So stupidly oblivious,” he chortled.
The shock permeating my system deflected Wesley’s insult as I gaped at the image of myself, sitting in the stylist chair—admiring my new do—at the salon in Richardson. Based on the angle, whomever had captured it had been sitting beside me. Though it chafed, Wesley was right. I had been stupidly oblivious. I’d never even suspected someone had taken my picture.
Memories flooded my mind.
“Miss Holden, I’m ready for you,” the stylist announced.
Grant stood before my butt had left the waiting room chair.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Coming with you.”
“No. You’re going to sit here, thumb through all these girly magazines, then tell me how pretty I look when I come back out.”
“You already look pretty,” he murmured with a wolfish grin.
“Then you can tell me I look prettier.” I smiled, then quickly sobered. “I don’t need a babysitter to get my hair done. Honest.”
“Fine. I’ll wait here and tell you anything you want to hear when you’re done. But I’m not thumbing through any girly magazines.”
The blinding smile he’d flashed me still glowed in my mind.
My heart ached, and crumbled.
I knew he was beating himself black and blue for leaving me at the ranch.
Oh, Grant…it’s not your fault. I’m fine. Okay, well…I’m alive. Alive and missing you with all my heart. Please, come find me…please.
Tears burned my eyes, but I quickly lowered my chin to hide them from Wesley.
“After I’d finally convinced our stupid parents to offer every PI on the planet a reward—usingmyemail address as the point of contact, of course—thislittle gem appeared in my inbox one morning.” He pulled back the paper and smiled. “It’s poetic justice, don’t you think?”
“Mmm,” I softly nodded.
I’d seen mentally disturbed people wandering the streets and subways of New York, but I’d never been up close and personal with one…until now. Common sense, and self-preservation, told me to act as passive and compliant as possible…to do everything in my power to pacify the deranged demon prowling Wesley’s mind.
