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Chapter Five
Jaxson
I’d found it difficult to sleep, tossing and turning through all hours of the night. Usually, I was dead to the world when I slept, but the smell of Ariella’s sweet scent mingled on my pillow and forced my mind to play over the night we shared.
Regret burned a hole in my stomach. I drowned in her spicy aroma, and while the sheets didn’t reek of sex, unfortunately, it still smelled blissfully ofher. I buried my head beneath the thick blanket.
I hated that I hadn’t told Ariella what she meant to me that night we shared, but now it felt a lifetime ago. Funny how a few days could change your life.
My cell phone buzzed on the nightstand. I pushed the blanket down and grumbled. I was not ready to be awake for work. My phone screen lit up the pitch-black bedroom. With an exhausted gaze, I felt for the phone and hit answer. Shoving it against my ear, I shut my eyes, attempting to wake up, which seemed counterproductive.
“Eagle Tactical,” I said. The call coming in wasn’t one of the guys, and at this disgusting hour, it had to be a client. “This is Jaxson Monroe. Can I help you?”
“I certainly hope so,” a deep gruff voice said. The man had a thick accent, Ukrainian or Russian. It was difficult to tell them apart. He cleared his throat. “I’d like to hire you to find my wife.”
I sat up in bed and turned on the bedside lamp. “We don’t typically handle domestic matters,” I said. I scooted to sit at the edge of the bed. My feet were planted firmly on the floor. The ground was cold, and the air outside of the warm blankets gave me goosebumps.
With the phone to my ear, I stood and headed straight for my dresser.
“This isn’t a domestic matter. She was arrested yesterday morning. When I contacted the authorities to have her bond posted and released, she was never brought in for booking.”
He had my attention. “Do you believe the authorities are involved in her disappearance?” That sounded a tad wild, even by my standards.
“No, that would be preposterous.”
I opened the drawer to my dresser, grabbed a fresh set of clothes, and tossed the items to the bed. “It likely wasn’t the authorities that picked up your wife.”
“That is precisely my concern. I have many enemies. I would hate to think they came after my most prized possession. I can assure you that I will pay handsomely for her return to me.”
While that was nice to know, it wasn’t the only factor we considered. “Send me a photograph of your wife, along with her name and any distinguishing attributes—body piercings, scars, or tattoos so that we can easily identify her.” I gave the gentleman my email address to send the information to me. “I’d also like to meet you.” It was a requirement. Anyone that I hired as a client, I needed to know they were clean and not thwarting an active investigation.
“Of course. How does noon sound?”
I gave him Eagle Tactical’s address and took his name and phone number before I hung up. I showered and dressed in a hurry, shoved my phone into my back pocket, and shut off the lights to my bedroom. Coming down the back stairwell direct to the kitchen, I put on a pot of coffee. I was going to need the extra jolt to stay awake today.
My body was sluggish, and I couldn’t afford my mind to feel the same. Staring at the coffee maker, waiting for it to drip into the pot, the hiss of the water heating filled my foggy head.
“Who would kidnap a woman, pretend to be the authorities, and arrest her?” I said to myself. I leaned on the counter. It didn’t make sense. My gut instinct had me second-guess everything the man said over the phone.
As soon as I received communication with him, I could track his phone, run a background check, and make sure he had nothing to hide. It was what we did with all our clients that involved missing persons or abductions. In most cases, a spouse was involved or if it was a child, the parents. We didn’t inform the parents or spouse that we looked into their financial, background, and past transgressions.
Soft footsteps pattered down the back stairwell. I straightened up, expelled a heavy breath. I could feel her presence, smell her sweet scent from across the room. Ariella had awoken. “Did I wake you?” I hadn’t intended the question to come out sharp and rough, but lack of sleep had done me in. I wasn’t a morning person without a solid six hours of sleep. I’d had far less, especially during training involving sleep deprivation and combat situations. This was neither of those, thankfully.
“No. I couldn’t sleep. Is the coffee ready?” she asked.
I grabbed two mugs from the cabinet, flipping them over and placing them right side up. “Almost.” The coffee maker brewed and gurgled. Steam wafted from the back of the unit. It wasn’t high tech or fancy, but it made a mean cup of coffee in a pretty decent amount of time. I hated to be kept waiting for my morning brew.
The last of the coffee dripped into the pot, and I poured two cups. I turned around and handed her a mug.
“Thank you,” she whispered, staring at me.
I tried not to stare at her in the baggy flannel bottoms or the white t-shirt that clung to her breasts and revealed her nipples through her shirt. I failed miserably.
Her eyes widened, and she adjusted her shirt, one arm over her ample breasts, the other hand bringing the mug to her lips for her coffee.
I wanted to apologize; I knew I should have said something. Instead, I glanced away, ran a hand through my morning hair, and pointed at the fridge. “Help yourself. I have to leave early this morning and get a head start on a new client.”
“Oh. Anything I can help with?” Her eyes were full of promise and hope.
