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“You finally made time for me?”
I glance at Eric and then Savage. “Where are you?”
“At the cigar club at Pier 79 with Terri Martin from Buckeye Cruises. He’s staying at a hotel down here. Want to join?”
“Meet me at the beach house in half an hour.”
“That would be rude and—”
“Listen to me, Brody,” I bite out, “I will come there and drag you out of that bar and beat your ass if you don’t meet me in half an hour.” I disconnect. “He says he’s at the cigar club at Pier 79.”
Savage pulls out his phone and makes a call, directing men that direction. Once that’s handled he focuses on me. “You know you’re going to have to drag him out of that bar and beat his ass. Let’s skip the beach house.”
“Agreed,” I say.
“We’ll hold the plane,” Grayson says, sitting down next to Eric. “We’re not going to make our meeting anyway and this is more important.”
“I owe you about ten times over,” I say.
“You don’t owe me anything,” Grayson says.
“Just find her,” Eric adds.
Savage stands up and I follow. A couple minutes later, we’re in the back of an SUV driven by one of his men, the wind gusting around us. “I don’t know if I should feel relieved right now or scared shitless,” I say, once we’re on the road. “If my brother doesn’t have her—”
“It means nothing,” Savage says. “He could have hired someone to grab her, just as her brother or Randall could have as well. And considering we have eyes on Randall and Chance, and they’re presently at a dinner function in San Francisco, that’s the direction I’m leaning. As for any way Emma might get out of the city. We’ve checked airlines, buses, trains, car rental locations. Nothing useful has shown up at this point.”
I eye Savage. “I need Chance’s number,” I say.
“Texting it to you,” he says, already keying it into his phone.
It buzzes to my messages and I hit the number, calling Chance. He answers on the first ring. “Chance Knight.”
“Where is she?”
He laughs. “Emma? I take it that she finally left your ass.”
“By way of a person in a mask who shot her up with sedatives, and I swear to God if I find out it was you—”
“Holy hell, it wasn’t me. Have you called the police?”
“I’m sending someone to talk to you from Walker Security. And to that piece of work, Randall, as well. He threatened her. You know that, right?”
“I heard. He’s here with me. I’ll talk to him, but he wouldn’t—”
“Don’t tell me he wouldn’t.” My voice is cold, hard, that need for revenge fire in my blood once again. “Because I could really shove those words down your throat right now and enjoy it.”
“She’s my sister, North. And you might not believe it, but I love the hell out of her. Send your man, now. I’m at—”
“I know where you’re at.”
I disconnect and eye Savage. “You know what to do.”
“Beat his ass or talk to him?”
“I can’t make that decision right now because in my present state of mind it won’t be the right one.” I lean back in my seat and hope like hell Brody has Emma and that she’s safe and well.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Jax
In the half hour it takes us to get to the bar, Brody has apparently, per the bartender, guzzled half a bottle of whiskey, and he’s now barely able to stand up. I lose my shit, when I never lose my shit. I yank him up from the table he’s laying his head on and shove him against the wall. “Where’s Emma?”
“You can’t keep up with your woman?” he slurs. “Me either. Jill still hates me. She told me I was never as good as Hunter.” He starts crying.
“Jesus,” I murmur, grabbing his face. He’s losing his fucking mind but so am I right now. “Where is Emma?”
He starts heaving. I let go of him, and he buckles at the waist and falls to his knees. I glance at the bartender, pull a wad of cash from my pocket and slap it down. “For your trouble and his bill.”
“Knew your father,” he says. “Know you’ve been through a lot. No worries here.”
I nod my appreciation and turn to Savage. “I don’t think we can trust anything he says until he sobers up.”
“We can sober him up with some adrenaline.”
“Just do it safely.”
“Why do I feel like you won’t be here?”
“We won’t be here. Have your team do it.” I think back to the promise I made to Emma about not letting her go. I think of the gut feeling I ignored when I left her. I need to listen to the one I have now. “We’re going to San Francisco.” I dial Eric.
“What’s the word?” he answers.
“You still holding that plane?” I ask.
