“Onyx!”
I didn’t listen to her, and I didn’t turn back. I knew she would judge me just as I knew she wouldn’t be happy with my form of justice. Cooper, Jer, hell, even Charlie all thought I felt guilty over the fact that she had been taken. I wasn’t responsible for Angel being taken.
She ran out of the house on a wild-goose chase.
She ran toward the danger.
She never called for help until it was too late.
I was not responsible for her actions, and she wasn’t responsible for mine.
Getting into my car, I stared at the hospital entrance. How easy it would be to walk back in there and visit Burt Christie’s bedside and finish what I started.
The police wouldn’t have told her that they suspected that I beat him. We’d said he crashed the car and we found her in the trunk, him unconscious at the wheel. The car was burning, and we pulled them both from the wreckage.
The police had been adamant that his injuries were from more than a car, and I told them I had punched him twice when I saw the state of Angel. The car was burning when they arrived, so there was no way to dispute our claim. And Burt Christie wasn’t talking.
Neither officer believed me, and I suspected, like me, they didn’t care. He was a scumbag, and it was unfortunate that he survived.
Was that harsh? No.
To someone as gentle as Angel? Most likely.That’swhy I’d been avoiding her. I didn’t want to see the condemnation ofmein her eyes. Driving home, I thought about her. The others thought we should be together, thought this meant wewouldbe together, but we weren’t a . . . what was it she called it? A good fit.
We didn’t fit.
I was who I was, and she was everything I was not and never would be. Never wanted to be.
It would be good to have her in the boardroom again. She did make work more interesting, more of a challenge. For now, she could heal. She needed to heal, forget. Move on.
Getting out of the car, I studied the driveway. The red paint was gone. Charlie had known who to call, and they had removed it within a few days.
At the door, I stopped.
Will Hershman was a lawyer. Not even a very good one. He had no other skills except manipulation of young men, and that, I was confident, was not a skill.
Her home had been broken into. The cameras at the office and in the parking lot had been disabled. Cooper’s discreet camera was tampered with. My security system was tampered with. Not well, but to open a window, even slightly, that took knowledge.
Someone had taken her house key.
Someone had put a rat in her drawer.
Will Hershman was not that smart.
Turning on my front step, I looked out over my grounds. There was someone else involved, and I had been so determined and focused on Burt and Will, I’d been blind to it. I also hadn’t checked my office surveillance; I had dropped the ball. I was so focused on Will and Burt, I hadn’t covered every avenue, looked into every possibility.
A conversation I’d only been half-listening to in the boardroom two days ago dripped slowly into my brain, filtering its way into my recollection, and my hands curled into fists at my side.
“Has there been any word on Angel?”
Glancing up, I saw them both looking at Neil for confirmation.
“She’s doing well. She will be home soon.”
I went back to my tablet, my attention on the screen in front of me, as I scrolled through email after email of Will and Judd’s relationship.
“How long will she be down for?”
“A few weeks,” I heard Neil say. “But you know Angel, girl’s a fighter.”
