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What the hell? Why would she have signed her name that way? He’d never called her that. When he used a nickname for her, it was always Colorado or Den. The Hummingbird was just the place they’d first…
“The first place we had sex.” Was that a clue? Had she been forced to write that letter? “Holy Christ.”
Whatever it meant, he had to find her. If she truly meant what she’d said, she could tell him face to face. He didn’t understand it, not by a long shot, but if she said the words to him, he’d have to hear them.
But if there was more to it, if the supposed “gentleman” Denver had left with was the man from her past—because he had no idea who else it could be—then Ryan needed to get help. And there was only one person who could give them any.
The guy who seemed to have more money and connections than God and just happened to share Denver’s real last name.
Ryan whirled around to find the frantic maid standing in the bathroom door, brandishing a feather duster in one hand and her phone in the other. “I gotta go. I’m sorry. I’ll pay for all of this.” He frowned. “Fuck that, I didn’t do anything. Thoughts aren’t actions. Get out of my way before I move you bodily. Ma’am,” he added.
She moved aside, still holding out the feather duster. “This woman, she left you?”
“We’ll see about that.” He made it two feet before he spun around to stare at the still uneasy maid. “The man she left with, what did he look like? Details are important.”
“He was tall, dark hair, nice suit. Looked rich. He smiled at me, but his eyes were cold.” She gripped her phone that much tighter. “Is she in trouble?”
“Not if I have anything to say about it. Thanks.” He charged out of the room, already texting Lila for Donovan’s number. Her response was almost instantaneous.
Lila: Where are u? The show started. We need u down here.
Ryan: Need Donovan’s number. Urgent.
She responded with Donovan’s number and another barrage of questions, as was Lila’s way.
Lila: Are u ok? Where are u? Want me to send someone?
Ryan: No time. I’m ok. Tell Donovan 2 look @ his phone.
Ryan hit the button for the elevator, texting the number he’d gotten for Donovan as he stepped inside.
Ryan: I’m sleeping with your niece. No time 2 explain. Denver’s missing from our room. Left me a shitty breakup note. Signed it weird. Maid said she left w a man. What happened with her ex bf?
Yeah, so not the best way to tell Donovan about them, but he didn’t have time for niceties. He also couldn’t tell Donovan he was in love with Denver until he told her. It just didn’t seem right.
He expected Donovan to either not reply or to say he wasn’t telling him jack shit. In his inimitable British way, of course. But his answer came almost immediately, just as the elevator doors opened a few floors below their floor to let people on. Ryan gritted his teeth as he read Donovan’s response.
Donovan: He had family connections. Dangerous. Older. Emotionally manipulative. Do you think she could be with him?
Family connections? What the fuck did that mean? Ryan didn’t have a Donovan Lewis-speak dictionary handy.
Ryan swallowed hard as the elevator stopped again on the next floor and more people entered the car. Family connections as in mob? No fucking way. Denver had told him that not all of her ex-boyfriend’s associates were above-board, but this was nuts. It couldn’t be true.
Ryan sent another text.
Ryan: Do you think she could be in danger?
Donovan: I don’t know. What did she tell you?
Swearing under his breath as the elevator finally stopped at the lobby level and the car emptied, Ryan typed out the pertinent details as coherently as he could while walking. He was leaving a lot out, and he wasn’t sure if he was saying what he intended, but he didn’t have time to reread what he’d typed. Just managing to type while walking as fast as he could to get back to Donovan was a minor feat.
People were everywhere, coming and going in every direction. Laughing, talking, making his head hurt with their animated voices. Ryan aimed for the Event Center almost on autopilot, finally finishing his texts to Donovan as he stepped through the double doors.
The sea of faces and bodies made his stomach clench. Somehow he had to fight his way through the mass of excited people completely focused on the stage so he could drag Donovan someplace quieter so they could have a coherent conversation and come up with a damn plan.
The last thing he wanted to do was waste time spinning his wheels in that place, but he had no choice. He needed more information, and Donovan was the only one who could give him a clear direction. Whether that was pulling security cameras fr
om the hallway of their floor or calling in some of their own people to do a sweep, he was ready to do anything and everything to get her back.
