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“I don’t…I don’t love anybody.” He laughed, striding into my personal space. “All I love ismoney. Marrying you…temporarily, of course, is nothing but a necessary part of my plan.”
Temporarily?
My gut told me Wesley didn’t mean to divorce me…but kill me.
“You actually thought I was inlovewith you?” As fast as the strike of a snake, he gripped his hand around my throat. “You’re a stupid bitch. So stupid, you didn’t realize I have cameras everywhere in my penthouse. I saw you standing outside my door…listening that day I bribed Congressman Swanson. And you damn well know exactly what I have to do to anyone who found out about it, too.”
My heart leapt to my throat.
As panic unfurled inside me, Wesley stabbed the needle in my neck before filling my system with poison.
“After your fucking face heals, you’re gonna play an ignorant, simpering wife. If you play your part good enough, Imightlet you live,” he snarled before darkness swallowed me whole again.
ChapterNineteen
Grant
When I’d landed in New York, three days ago, Dalton had arranged a rental car and a luxurious hotel suite near Central Park. Either by fate or design, he’d literally set me up in the Bishops’ and Fairchilds’ backyard.
Though I was beyond ready to escape the mass of humanity, and breathe in some fresh Texas air, I wasn’t returning to the ranch without Emma.
I’d spent the first twenty-four hours staking out the building where Wesley lived, as well as the one beside it that his parents owned. I studied the security guards inside the doorways, as well as the occupants coming and going. Of course, Wesley and Emma weren’t among them. I hadn’t expected to see them. I’d known the prick wouldn’t parade her out in I public. He couldn’t risk exposing her.
The only way I would have been able to find and rescue Emma was to get inside the building.
After the sun came up on the second day, I’d scouted a couple of thrift stores and searched a few alleyways. Then I’d stopped at a hardware store and picked up a fewsuppliesbefore I’d returned to my hotel suite.
I’d showered and dressed, and donned my newuniform, then I’d waited in the shadows of the tall, manicured shrubs beside Wesley’s building. A few hours later, two delivery trucks pulled to the curb. When the drivers hurried toward the door, I’d quickly darted in behind them, carrying a box I’d plucked from the alley and re-sealed with tape.
“What have we got today, gentlemen?” the security guard asked.
I let the two men in front of me rattle off the names of the occupants receiving packages.
After the guard waved them through, I stepped up and smiled. “This one’s for…” I paused, pretending to read the original address sticker on the box. “Wesley Fairchild.”
“I’ll take it,” the guard announced, extending his hand.
Fuck! Was Wesley’s ego so huge he didn’t want a lowly delivery driver near his door?
“Sorry, man. No can do. My instructions are he’s gotta sign for it.”
“I’m afraid that’s impossible. Mr. Fairchild is out of town.”
Out of town? No. No. If he’s not here, that means Emma’s not here. Where the fuck is she?
Keeping my expression neutral, I swallowed the ball of panic lodged in my throat, and frowned.
“If you tell me when he’s coming back, I’ll note it on the ticket.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t have a clue.”
“No problem.” I shrugged. “Have a good one.”
I’d hurried away, pissed that I’d been forced back to square one, and returned to my suite. Then I’d dialed up Dalton to check on Mack and pick the new club manager’s brain.
We’d become close since he’d moved to Dallas. While it wasn’t common knowledge, I knew he’d made his fortune in the stock market. I also knew I’d never find Emma in the vast sea of humanity outside my door thinking like a farmer or a former SEAL. Of course, the skills I’d obtained from the latter would be quite useful when I found Wesley. In order to find the demented prick, I’d had to think like someone filthy rich.
“What else could someone invest in besides the market?” I asked.
