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“Surprise,” he says. “As you can see, I’ve been a busy boy.”
My mouth falls open to reply, but I don’t know what to say. It looks like something out of a crime show... and right there in the middle is a photograph of me.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Conner
"This is a fucking joke," I spit, falling down into one of the few chairs that's still in one piece in Joker’s.
Dad, Ace, Cole and a couple of James' men gather around us.
"They can't just fucking disappear."
I drop my head into my hands, my confidence that we'd catch up with them vanishing faster than I can cope with.
We've spent hours driving around the Heights, trying to find where he took her, but there was no sign of that motherfucker, his car, or my girl.
I turned his trailer upside down trying to find clues, but there was fucking nothing.
"This is your fault," I spit at our dad. "If you hadn’t made me wait to get her, if you hadn’t come up with this fucking stupid plan, she would have been home by now. If anything fucking happens to her… this is on your head." I push to stand so I'm staring down at him.
"Conner," he says calmly, like I didn't just spit all over his face in my rage. "We will find her. I have men all over the Heights. Any kind of movement and we'll unearth the cunt."
"Not good enough. I need her now. I need to know he's not hurting her."
"I know, Conner. We're doing the best we can."
"Not. Fucking. Good. Enough. You promised me this would be over tonight, but as far as I can see it's just got a whole lot fucking worse." I lift my hands to my head and thread my fingers through my hair, pulling until it hurts.
I need to hurt. I need to feel the pain. The distraction.
"Fuck," I bark, pulling my cell from my pocket and shooting Daz a message.
My fists clench with my need to throw them into some unsuspecting cunt’s face.
"Is that really the best way to deal with this?" Cole asks, coming to stand beside me just in time to see who I messaged.
"I don't know, bro. You fucking tell me,” I snarl. “What is the right thing to do when your girl’s been fucking kidnapped by a psychopath and you have no idea where she is?”
"Uh..." he hesitates.
"Exactly. It's either this, or he,” I pin our father with a look, “tells us fucking everything. Because this," I throw my hands out to my sides, indicating the officers who are clearly under James' watch, “isn't fucking normal." We grew up in the Heights, we know all about corrupt cops. They're on every street corner selling the drugs they've seized to kids who don't know any better. But this right now is fuck
ed up.
I step up to Dad once more. "Who exactly is James Jagger, huh? Because he sure as shit isn't the businessman who spends all his time in Silicon Valley like we were led to believe, is he?"
"I spend a lot of time in Silicon Valley," he argues.
"Doing what, James? What do you do that means you have the police in your back pocket? That you have men patrolling the Heights right now looking for a girl? What secrets does Warren know? What does he have on you?"
He swallows, his lips parting, but what he decides to say is nothing but a disappointment and nearly has my fist flying toward his face.
"I will explain everything I can when this is all over."
"Yeah, you keep saying that, but this... this shit isn't over. Whatever this is is ruining my fucking life right now, the life of the girl I love. Why can't you just be honest with us? Who are you?"
"Drop it, kid," one of Dad's guys says, placing his hand on my shoulder.
