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Chapter 10
Flint
“She’s at a restaurant,” Jacob gasps, his voice tinny over my phone speaker. This morning we sent him to monitor Oriana’s house and follow her if she left. I wanted to go myself, but couldn’t risk being recognized. Waiting to hear from him has been a test of my patience. Until the phone rang, I paced through the clubhouse’s bar, Sarah and Damon watching me warily. None of us spoke a word.
Now Sarah’s red-rimmed eyes go straight to mine, and I can feel the hope and grief in them in my own heart. Oriana is out in public. It means we have a chance to get to her. “She’s with him.” I don’t have to ask which him he’s referring to. Sarah lets out a whimper.
“What’s the restaurant called?” I ask.
“Guillaume’s.”
I know the place. Guillaume’s is an expensive restaurant, the kind where people wait months to get a table just to eat overpriced, tiny portions of food. And, more importantly, it’s only half an hour away.
“Weird to take your daughter out to dinner after she’s been kidnapped, don’t you think?” Damon says, furrowing his brow.
“I don’t give a shit if it’s weird or not,” I say, my heart thundering against my ribcage. This is it. My chance to get her back. “Let’s fucking go. Now.”
Damon and Sarah exchange a look.
“What?” I spit.
“We can’t just storm in there and drag her out,” Damon says, eyeing me cautiously. “We need a plan.”
“Plus, it’s not just the two of them,” Jacob adds. “We have to think this through.”
I clench my fists in anger. “The bastard’s fucking bodyguards aren’t a match for any of us.”
Jacob takes in an audible breath. “There was another man with them,” he says, his tone cautious.
“So?”
Jacob doesn’t reply.
“Fucking spit it out, Jake.”
“I think—I think Oriana’s father might be trying to marry her off to him. She had a large diamond ring on her finger and when they walked into the restaurant—well, the guy had his hand on her waist.”
For a moment, my mind goes completely empty. Then all encompassing rage surges and I let out a bellow so loud it makes everyone flinch. “I’m getting her. Now,” I say, my voice hoarse both from anger and my scream.
“Flint.” Damon puts a hand on my shoulder, his tone cautious. “She chose to leave. She might not want to come back.”
His words are like a punch to the gut, the truth of them making it hard to breathe. I figured Oriana left because she was angry and overwhelmed. It never occurred to me she might not want to come back once she’d calmed down. Not after what we shared the night before.
“I have to try,” I grit out, dread constricting my throat. “I have to at least ask her if she wants to come back.” To me, I add in my head.
“I have an idea,” a quiet, timid voice comes from behind me. I turn to see Emma, Damon’s younger sister, standing in the doorway, her large hazel eyes nervous. She came home from college a few days ago, and I haven’t seen her since she got back. I’ve been too busy with Oriana.
“What is it?” I ask, trying to keep the anger and desperation from my voice. Emma is a sweet girl, despite being raised by a bunch of rough bikers, and I don’t want to scare her.
“I was sitting on the porch and I overheard you, and I thought—well, I could go,” she says, ignoring the grim look her brother shoots her. “Oriana’s father doesn’t know me. He wouldn’t be suspicious if he saw me. I could try to get her alone. Ask her if she wants to come back. You guys can wait outside. We’ll slip out the back door or something.”
Damon opens his mouth, probably to object, but Emma gives a firm shake of her head. “Don’t tell me I can’t do this, Damon,” she says, straightening her slim shoulders. “I’m an adult. And it’ll be in a crowded restaurant. It won’t be dangerous.”
“It’s a good idea,” Sarah says, her voice rough from disuse and hours of crying. It’s the first time she’s spoken.
Damon’s grave face tightens further, but he gives a curt nod. Emma returns her gaze to me. “What do you say?”
“Let’s do it,” I say, hope blossoming in my chest. This is nowhere near a fool-proof plan, but it’s better than nothing. I smile for the first time in what feels like years.
