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Jesus, fuck, I almost lost her.
That thought wrecks me, and I hate it. I don’t recognize this version of myself—the one who is distracted and conflicted, who loses focus. The one whose pulse is thundering—not because I’m hopped up on adrenaline, ready to gut an asshole for answers. No. After leaving her sad and yearning and drugged, smelling of sex and summertime,I’mthe one being gutted.
I’m not the man who gets fucked up from a girl.
Except I am. I’ve been changing the damn rules ever since I laid eyes on her nearly five years ago.
And I knew it then.
Three weeks—twenty-one days of learning her schedule, her every move, her mannerisms. She’s easy to watch. I’ve also been desperately trying to find out who else is after this almost-eighteen-year-old and why.
The rabbit holes in this case are deep and riddled with secrets that tunnel on through to the next. A never-ending labyrinth. It’s why I’ve decided to meet with her father—a risk, alerting him to the danger, but the bloody corpse of the girl from a month ago haunts me. I’m by no means a selfless hero, but I can’t turn this innocent girl over to be slaughtered. No matter the payoff.
I also won’t walk away.
In our ten months of erasing and tracking down those who have been “missing,” no case has been this convoluted or this lucrative. Completing this job is only the beginning for my team. I won’t let anyone fuck with that.
The secretary waves me back. It’s a highfalutin office building, far surpassing what most physicians boast, sleek and modern yet warm with a whiff of leather. Priceless art embellishes the walls. Everything screams class and wealth. I expected as much. Being one of the world’s most-sought-after neurosurgeons will do that. He’s put Ohio hospitals on the map.
She opens the door, allowing me to pass by her into his office. Floor-to-ceiling windows bathe the space in a bright golden glow.
As soon as his chin lifts, I smile.
“Dr. Kingston, thank you for taking the time to meet with me.”
He stands, walks around his desk, and holds out his hand for a firm shake while his eyes plant boldly on mine. “My pleasure, Mr. Wells.” He gestures to the seat in front of his desk. “Would you like a drink? Scotch?”
He opens a cabinet, showing he has several bottles of liquor to choose from. I’ve always preferred scotch though, so I accept, and he pours us each a glass of Macallan 18 on the rocks, taking his seat across from me and waiting. That small gesture—the confidence in merely eyeing me until I come out with my reasoning for seeking him out—instantly ignites my respect for him.
Swigging the Macallan, I’m impressed. It’s smoother than the scotch I’m accustomed to. “I’ll get right to it, Dr. Kingston. I’m here regarding your daughter.”
He sips his scotch with a subtle nod. “I see. Go on.”
“I’m not sure if you’re aware, but there are various people searching for her.”
“I’m aware,” he says, giving nothing else away.
Interesting.I expected the man to be terrified with that admission and therefore cooperative to whatever I suggested. Instead, he’s unflappable, as if we were discussing her extracurricular activities, not the fact that she’s being actively pursued by hit men. Maybe I need a different approach.
“Are you aware of the reason?” I ask that in part because I’m not entirely sure. We were told one thing when given this assignment. The initial motive offered checked out, but it’s clear there’s more to it. That much was evident once the girl, Gemma, was killed.
He hums. “Areyou, Mr. Wells?”
“Partially,” I admit. “We realize it goes deeper than what we’ve uncovered. We are confident that we’re the only team to have her location at this time, and we don’t intend to bring any harm to her. Our orders are to keep her safe and deliver her unscathed, but we came across anotherteam who was hired to shoot to kill. My research, thus far, shows they aren’t the only ones.”
He drags his hand over his mouth. “I expected as much. Thank you for bringing it to my attention.” His tone is dismissive, as though that concludes our meeting.
A disbelieving chuckle escapes me. This entire interaction is odd. “With all due respect, sir, I am notonlybringing it to your attention. I have a job to do.”
“Of course you do.” His lips curl into a wry smirk. “But my daughter has been hunted for eighteen years. You don’t actually believe I’m simply going to hand her over to you?”
I suppose not, but he’s mistaken if he thinks he’s calling the shots here. This isn’t a negotiation. It’s a courtesy—one my team wouldn’t agree with, but one I couldn’t seem to negate after observing the fascinating redhead for weeks. You might say I’m mildly infatuated in spite of how young she is.
“May I ask why she’s being hunted and why you’re living in Ohio like a sitting duck?”
He leans forward, arms resting on the desk with an air of ease. “My wife and I wanted Ivanna to have the most normal upbringing possible. Running and looking over her shoulder was not the answer. It seemsyour mothermay know something about that.”
My chest tightens.What in the fuck?“My mother?”
