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The old TV on the stained, chipped stand drones on in front of us. I’m surprised the thing works after being abandoned for all these years, but despite Gage’s disinterest in taking over the farmhouse, it’s clear someone at least made sure everything remained somewhat intact. I can’t say they did an excellent job, considering the house is so old and decayed, I’m wondering how it’s still standing. Despite the appearance, there doesn’t seem to be any leaks in the roof that would have ruined the electronics, so with that blessing and an adjustment of the rabbit ears on top of the old TV, we were able to pick up about twelve channels, one of which includes a news station.
“The search continues for the missing rising star of the business world, Genevieve Dalton. She was last seen attending a charity auction hosted by the woman herself before she retired for the evening. Her driver confirmed she’d entered her building before he departed, and security cameras revealed she did indeed enter her apartment. After that, I’m afraid there are no current leads. The police said they are doing everything to follow leads and find her alive and well. They are appealing for anyone with any information to come forward.”
The news anchor stares at the camera for a few seconds too long, the lag making it weird for viewers while she waits to hear what else she needs to say. The second anchor, a woman whose face appears almost every night on the news, nods her head in mock sympathy.
“Thank you, Jill. Now, we move over to clips of the press conference held by Chaz Dandridge III, Ms. Dalton’s fiancé.”
“Of course,” I grumble, crossing my arms over my chest as I watch the idiot appear on TV. Dandridge would never miss an opportunity for PR, so naturally, this is a great way for him to appear like the victim in all of this and come out smelling like a lily. For a second, the urge to reveal just how fucked up Chaz is passes my mind. We have enough evidence to prove he orchestrated plenty of hits. The problem is, it would condemn us just the same. Still, the temptation is there.
“Leave it to fucking Chaz to make this all about him,” Booker grouses, his brows furrowing at the hazy depiction of the old money fucker taking the stand in front of a crowd.
“I’m asking for the safe return of my fiancée,” Chaz announces, his features schooled into the perfect pinch of worry and desperation. “Everyone who has met Genevieve knows how sweet and innocent she is.”
“Sweet? Innocent?” Gage grouses. “More like a heathen.”
I snort at Gage’s annoyance with the woman. Despite her attempt at attacking us, I’m certain she’s just as Chaz describes, at least to some extent. She’d been returning from a charity event, after all. Though most of the rich attend such things, it isn’t hard to hear rumours about Genevieve. A quick search revealed exactly what I’d heard—Genevieve Dalton hadn’t come from money like Chaz had. With the way she fought, I’d be willing to bet she comes from a far harsher background, which only intrigues me further.
“She’s done nothing to you,” Dandridge continues as if he’s talking to us directly. Who knows? Maybe the fucker really is. “Bring her home safely and unharmed, and no charges will be pressed. In addition, we’re offering a reward of a million pounds for the safe return of Genevieve.” He pauses and looks into the camera like he’s the star of his own TV show. I scowl in disgust at the perfectly practiced twist of his features. There’s no better actor than a rich man who wants something. “Please, bring her home. Bring my love home safely.”
“Do you see this guy?” I ask, disgusted at his act. Everything he’s doing gives him the appearance of the doting fiancé worried for his woman, when we all know damn well why he’s interested in her. What we don’t know is her interest in him. Why would someone with so much…pizazz want someone like Chaz fucking Dandridge?
“The reward—” Eric starts, but I shake my head.
“You and I both know he doesn’t have that kind of money to give away anymore. The Dandridge family is living off of favours and loans until the marriage. It’s all fluff,” I interrupt. It would have been nice if there’d been merit to the reward. We could have easily dropped Genevieve off somewhere and collected the reward had the man actually had a penny to his name. If that were the case however, Chaz never would have made those deals with us, and we wouldn’t be in this situation at all.
“If only we could get that reward,” Booker adds, repeating what I thought. “But the shit stain doesn’t have a penny to his name anymore.”
“On the bright side,” Eric says with a grin on his lips, “we did successfully take his most valuable possession.”
We all look towards the door Genevieve still stands behind quietly. We haven’t heard a peep from her while she does her business, and although I left the door ajar, no sound comes from within, as if she’s in there trying to come up with a plan to get away. That’s probably exactly what she’s doing. I know there are no weapons in there she can use against us, not unless she drags the shower curtain bar down and uses it like a bat. Though I’d been listening to the news, I’d kept my ears peeled for sound from the bathroom, waiting for her to either attack or rush for the door.
“How long is she going to be in there?” Gage rumbles, his eyes narrowing on the ajar door. There’s clear disdain in his tone, as if he’ll never quite forgive her for the mark on his chest. She got him good, that much I know, and while it amuses me, he obviously doesn’t feel the same. It serves him right. Next time, he won’t underestimate a woman backed into a corner.
Chaz is still droning on about the search party he’s organised himself to find his missing fiancée, when the bathroom door squeaks open and Genevieve reveals herself in all her tumbled glory. Gage turns towards her with a menacing glare she completely ignores. Her eyes are on the television, where Chaz talks about her like she’s a stolen trophy in a perfectly rehearsed performance. It’s clear to all of us what it is, but is it to her? There’s no emotion in her eyes as she watches in her dirty dress with dishevelled hair. Even as tousled as she is, she’s gloriously beautiful. It’s easy to see what attracted Dandridge to her. The fact that she has her own money only sweetened the deal.
“You don’t seem too upset about him begging for your return,” I comment when no one speaks. The only sounds come from the box and the settling of the house in the wind.
Crystalline eyes move away from the old TV to focus on my face, taking in the way I stand, looking relaxed. She notes that no one moves to lock her away again, not yet, and in the same moment, she observes every single doorway in the room, including the front door. I tilt my head at her. How interesting. A rich woman with survival instincts.
“You don’t know anything about me,” she finally says, raising her chin. There’s stubbornness there, confidence, as if she thinks I’m a normal man.
The corner of my lips curls up as I pull out my phone where I saved all the information I found. I haven’t had a chance to read through all of it yet, but now’s as good a time as any.
“That’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart,” I purr, and she tenses at my words as if expecting a physical blow.
