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I barely get through the door and into the dining room, ready to drop all the heavy files onto the table when a soft, sleep-filled tone sounds at our backs. “Where’d you go?”
Dumping my armful of files on the table, I turn around to find Danika standing at the entrance of the dining room, rubbing her eye as her face twists moments before a yawn comes tearing out of her.
Danika’s eyes squeeze shut as Carver crouches down in front of her, his hand dropping to her shoulder. “Are you only just getting up?”
He bypasses her question like a pro, putting on a cheery tone for his little sister despite the turmoil raging through his mind. It’s only seven in the morning, but it’s already been a fucked-up day, one I’m sure that he won’t be forgetting anytime soon, though fingers crossed that the rest of the day can turn around in a big way. Nothing would suck more than going on a raid only to find that we were wrong and Paris was never there to start with. The place we were looking for was north of the city center, somewhere she could stay without leaving a paper trail, and somewhere close enough to keep an eye on us undetected. The penthouse apartment is perfect for that.
All this time, we’ve been searching for a rundown property, something she would have forced her way into, but she outsmarted us once again. The penthouse is the exact opposite of what we’ve been looking for, and the more I think about it, the more I want to scream.
Danika rubs the back of her hand over her nose and nods, a soft pout settling over her lips. “I … I had a bad dream where I thought I heard Mommy, but I didn’t want to upset you so I just went back to sleep,” she explains, breaking my heart and making me so damn grateful that she didn’t have a change of heart and come searching for Carver while his mother was lying dead on his bedroom floor.
“You know you can always come to me,” Carver tells her. “Where’s your sister?”
“She wanted to talk with the broken girl, but she wasn’t there,” Danika says, shrugging her shoulders. “So she stole the candies that King hid in the cupboard and now she’s eating them under her bed.”
My brows furrow and I step in behind Carver, sailing straight over King’s hidden candies. “The broken girl?”
“Yeah,” Danika says, a smile pulling at her lips, loving the idea of being helpful. “The girl who’s been sleeping in the bed at the end of the hall. We were playing doctor with her yesterday. She let us put bandages on all of her ouchies and give her a check-up like when we visit the doctor with Mommy. Dominique wanted to be friends with her, but she wasn’t there anymore.”
Carver’s gaze shifts to mine, a silent message passing between us, and without a word, I slip out of the dining room and head for the stairs. I sprint up them, two at a time, determined to check on Ember before rushing back downstairs and getting our ‘end Paris’ plan into motion.
My hand presses against the spare bedroom door at the end of the hallway and just like every other time I’ve pushed through to this room over the past few days, I brace myself, not wanting to be here one bit.
The door glides open and I glance up to find an empty bed, just as Danika had suggested. Suspicion takes over me. I’ve learned from my mistakes that trusting Ember isn’t something anyone should ever do, so as I step deeper into the room, my gaze sweeps the wide space. Knowing my luck, she’s probably standing behind the door with a vase, ready to smash it over the back of my head, and I am not down for taking a risk like that, especially on a day like today. I want to be clear-headed when I take out Paris. There is no room for concussions. Besides, a head injury would surely have the guys chaining me to my fucking bed, determined to find any little excuse as to why I shouldn’t be going with them today. But fuck that. I’m a woman on a mission, and no one will stand in my way.
Confident that the room is safe to step into, I look over the rumpled sheets on the bed as I make my way across the room to the adjoining bathroom. My knuckles wrap against the closed door. “Ember?” I question, keeping my voice low as she’s bound to still have a nasty concussion. Though it beats me why I’m making it a priority right now. “Ember? Are you in there?”
Getting no response, I knock again, my voice hitching a little higher as irritation spreads through me, hating being ignored. “Ember?”
