AllFreeNovel
Share Us
From the corner of my eye, I catch sight of Jax approaching. I sigh with the reprieve his presence offers and place the box in one of my desk drawers.
“How’d it go after I left? Did you learn anything?” Jax asks, dropping into his chair at the desk across from me.
I sit and wonder how much to tell him. How deep does he want to get into this? He watches me expectantly, waiting for a reply.
“I did, but before I tell you anything, I want you to think long and hard about how far down this road you really want to go.”
The intrigued look on his face transforms into one of seriousness. “It’s that bad?”
“Yes. I know what I have to do, but I could lose my job when this is all over if I’m not careful. Is that a risk you’re willing to take?”
“Fuck, man.” Jax sits back in his chair, his eyes wide and mouth flat.
“You know I trust you with my life. You’re my partner, my brother-in-arms. I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with. I can keep you clear on the side of the law if that’s what you want. I just ask that you not question intel, or me if I have to withhold something from you.”
Jax nods, contemplating what I said. He opens his mouth to reply, but a loud booming voice hollers from the doors to the pit, cutting him off.
“Where is my daughter?” Virgil comes to a complete stop beside my desk. His gaze is lethal as he stares at me.
“Why don’t we go into the conference room, and we can talk about this,” I tell him, gesturing to the same room we used yesterday.
Jax stands and starts walking. Virgil thankfully follows him in seething silence.
I release a heavy breath, reining in my ire and contempt for the man, and crack my neck before following him into the confined space.
Shutting the door behind me, I force myself to take one more deep breath and let it out slowly.
“We executed the search warrant, however, there was no sign of her—or any female for that matter—anywhere on the grounds. They informed us that the photo you provided was in fact two weeks old and she had left them a few days after it was taken.”
Virgil’s eye ticks and jaw tightens in his attempt to suppress his anger.
I look at Jax and run my finger down the side of my face. Jax blinks, allowing it to last a fraction longer than a normal blink, signaling he sees the tension as well.
“So, Mr. Larson, can you run over that timeline again for us? Starting at the beginning?”
Virgil’s fist slams against the table and he stands abruptly, his chair flying back to hit the wall behind him with a loud thud. “What is this, an interrogation? I’m the one who came to you looking for help, and now you’re questioning me and my integrity?”
He stomps to the door and wraps his hand around the handle. “I’ll find her on my own,” he says and wrenches the door open with enough force that it bounces off the wall to slam shut behind him with an ominous bang.
“I guess we got our answer about who Angelica really needs saving from,” Jax comments. “If you need me, partner, I’m here. No questions asked.”
“Thanks, Jax.” Having Jax on my side eases some of the tension, but I know I also need to be careful with how deep I let him get.
I make my way back to my desk and pull the mystery package back out of the drawer and fortifying myself against the horrors and dread waiting inside, I remove the bow and lid.
Pictures of Gemma and I during our short time together, smiling and walking. Visits to the ice cream shop in the next town. Walks along the trails at sunset when we thought we were alone.
The further into the box I dig, the more intimate the pictures become. One of us through my bedroom window, Gemma’s bare back in full view.
Seething fury pulses through my veins with each picture I see until, suddenly, ice water floods my system in pure terror. My hands shake as I reach to the bottom of the box. Red spots my vision and the muscles in my jaw tense. At the bottom of the box, buried under the thousand memories with Gemma, is a single photo of Eden, one taken today from outside of the house as she returned with Edward after the search. An image caught through a rifle’s scoop.
I flip the image over, and in the same scrolling penmanship as the tag, is a chilling note.History does love to repeat itself.
Over my dead fucking body.
Thump.
Thump.
