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Apparently, neither has anyone else.
After leaving Club Venom, I make a bunch of calls from the car, checking with various sources to look into this. Not a single person is aware of Gerard being missing. But while I’d love to chalk that up to Dante being an asshole and sending me on a wild goose chase, there’s one similarity with everyone I reach out to:
They might not be aware of him missing…and several of the people I speak to laugh at the idea…butnot a single one of them has seen his face in about two months.
So, yes, Dante was right: thisisa string to pull on.
I’m almost home when my phone lights up with a call from Christian, who I’ve had shadowing Dahlia whenever she goes out. I’m sure she’s smart enough to have at least guessed that I’ve got security on her whenever she leaves my place these days. But Christian is a pro, and I’m reasonably sure she’s never caught him doing it.
“We’ve got a small problem.”
My stomach drops.
“What sort of problem.”
“Ms. Roy was out with Elsa Guin in Brooklyn this evening. But when she came back over into Manhattan via taxi, she went to her own apartment, not to your loft.”
I frown. “And?”
“I made myself known to her and let her know that it is your preference that she stay at the loft.”
“And how well did that go?” I mutter dryly.
“About as well as you can imagine. Ms. Roy became physically and verbally…agitated.”
“Agitated”?Ten points to Gryffindor for diplomatic language, Christian.
“Mr. Drakos, I’m very sorry, but she wouldn’t come with us willingly, and had to be restrained and physically escorted into the car.”
I’m not quite prepared for the level of rage that suddenly explodes through my system at the thought of another man—even one of my own guys like Christian—laying hands on Dahlia.
“Penelope was with me, sir. She alone did the restraining of Ms. Roy. I felt that was the only appropriate way.”
Okay, the surge of murderous rage dials back a little bit. Penelope is Christian’s niece, roughly Dahlia’s age, who wants to go into security just like her Uncle Christian. So she’s been shadowing him. And if memory serves, she was all-state women’s wrestling at Michigan and did a short stint with the UFC.
“Where is Dahlia now,” I growl as the car pulls up outside my building.
“Your place, sir. Not restrained or anything, but I’ve got a guard posted outside the door just in case.”
“Thanks, Christian. I’m headed up there right now.”
At the door to my place, I tell the guard he can leave. When I walk inside, Dahlia looks up from where she’s sitting on the sofa. Her eyes narrow on me, her lip curling.
“So, kidnapping is on the table now as well?”
I shut the door behind me and lean against it. “I believe you were encouraged to come on your own accord first.”
Her eyes spark with fury as she leaps to her feet. “And I wouldencourageyou to remember that I’m not your fucking property.”
I resist the strangely powerful urge to snarl “yes, you are” in response.
“Dahlia, your mother’s house was recently burglarized by men with guns, and you yourself said that someone chased you through the park,” I snap. “The safest place for you is right here.”
She laughs coldly. “Oh, withyou?”
“Yes.”
She snorts, looking away and shaking her head.
