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The black and white footage was from Grace’s security feed from their house in Los Angeles. It was a modest-for-the-fancy area standard- bungalow with a pool and an attached garage.
And between the hours of two am and five am, there was nothing. The driveway was behind a gate. You’d have to buzz to enter their property.
But someone had broken into their house between those hours and grabbed Mulberry.
It wasn’t genius, in his opinion.
Why risk being caught somewhere where there definitely was security?
After Grace’s last blockbuster success, Mulberry’s photo had been splashed in the tabloids.
She was a young, attractive woman the world had seen grow up by her mother’s side.
When she was at the stage of going out to clubs with her friends, she was a magnet to the press. She was often her mom’s guest at red-carpet events.
There were lots of places less risky and with the cover of a crowd to take the woman.
But whoever it was, somehow they foiled the security system and when they broke into their house and grabbed her.
This wasn’t getting anywhere other than the growing feeling that it had to be someone close to Grace and Mulberry.
And as close as a relationship Mulberry claimed she and her mother had, maybe it wasn’t as close as she thought. Maybe Grace was hiding something from her.
Or someone. Nick flipped the swivel lid closed.
He needed to get some shut-eye.
As he poured himself a glass of water at the sink, a high-pitched keening sound had him sprinting down the hall and upstairs so fast he left the tap running.
In the centre of his king bed, Mulberry thrashed from side to side, wrapped up in the blankets, her eyes closed, tears running down her face, that horrible wail coming from her.
It sounded painful.
She looked like she was trapped in a nightmare.
“Mulberry,” Nick rushed to her, grabbing her hands.
She flinched, her eyes opened, and she stared at him with a haunted, vacant look.
“Hey, it’s Nick. I got you” he swung an arm around her, and she pushed away, scrambling to the edge of the bed, shaking her head. The pain on her face was so raw and pure that it grabbed Nick’s heartstrings.
He inched as close to her as he could while still keeping a foot between them- not wanting to spook her. Taking her wrists in his hands, he slowly made circles along her smooth skin with his thumbs.
“You’re safe, ma belle. I’m here. It’s just you and me.”
She shook her head, the tears running down her face.
Nick kept the steady pressure on her wrist, not sure what else to do. He considered calling someone like his friend Gabe.
The former medic might be able to tell him what to do with this…what was this? Anxiety attack? Psychosis? But he didn’t want to leave her and get his phone.
He stared at a spot on the wall. He wasn’t great with tears.
Give him software that needed glitches worked out, and he’d happily spend days on it.
Give him a crying human; his skin felt itchy and awful, and he felt utterly helpless.
“I don’t want to be taken again.”
