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He sighs and glances over his shoulder at his brothers leaning against the far wall. Surely we could have met somewhere a little less disgusting. “Bree and your father are missing.”
I stare at him for long moments, processing the words he’s said to me like they’ll do anything to make them less insane. “What do you mean, missing?” I ask slowly.
“We noticed Bree stopped coming out after you left town, but we thought it was just because she didn’t have you there. But then when her brother and his girlfriend came in one night, they mentioned she hadn’t been home in a few days.
“As you know, it’s not the first time she’s disappeared off the face of the earth, and we assumed she was with some guy for a week of fun. But then the following weekend she still hadn’t turned up and they were starting to get worried.”
“Why the hell didn’t you call me?” I snap. “She hasn’t been replying to my texts, I thought she was just out living her life. I didn’t think she wasmissing.”
Bryant’s eyes narrow, and he lets out a frustrated breath. “I fucking tried. For weeks. Every time I didn’t get a response, I started to worry about you too, until I told Jaxon and he looked into it. Turns out your husband blocked us in every way possible, from everything. That’s why we’re here. It was the only way we could contact you.”
My mouth falls open in surprise. I can admit that’s something he would do. He’s possessive as hell when it comes to me, but to block all four brothers? That goes further than I expected of him.
“What about my father?” I ask. “I’ve been texting him too, but I thought…” I choke on the thought I haven’t been brave enough to speak out loud. “I thought he didn’t want anything to do with me now that I’m married to the man he blames for his sister’s death.”
Bryant shakes his head. “Absolutely not. I spoke to him the day after the wedding and he was hopeful for you. He wouldn’t just cut off contact. We only realized he was missing because my father tried to get in touch with him to see if he’d seen or heard anything else from Spade. We went to your house, and it’s been cleared out. Your mom is gone too, but we tracked her to Florida. Seems once you were out of the house, she had no reason to remain in Boston.”
Every word out of his mouth seems more insane than the last, but that does sound like her. She never much cared for being a wife or a mother after Aunt Clarissa died, so bailing the moment I was married off kind of tracks.
The reality of the situation washes over me, and bile climbs up the back of my throat. This can’t be happening. How could they just disappear?
I’m pulled back to reality by the sound of Antonio banging around in the kitchen. This is the first time he’s really been in the apartment while I’ve been here on my own, but I suspect my erratic behavior after my bathroom break hasn’t done me any favors.
The burner phone Bryant gave me rests heavily in the pocket of my jeans. This feels wrong. Even as I go along with it, it feels like I’m making a huge mistake.
I should call Doc. I should tell him Bree and my dad are missing and ask him to help find them. There’s no way I should allow Bryant and his brothers to use me as bait to get them back. But that’s what I’ve agreed to. Stupidly.
There’s still time to back out, but the idea that my best friend could be hurt because of me, that my father may die because I wasn’t brave enough to take a chance, it’s too painful to think about.
This is something I need to do, and hopefully when it’s all said and done, I can return to Chicago, and Doc and I can find our way back to where we are now.
I’m mad that, on top of putting a tracker on my phone, he also controlled who could and couldn’t contact me. But I kind of understand it. If he had random women messaging him, I wouldn’t be happy about it.
I move into the bathroom and throw my deodorant and hairbrush into the bag. I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone for, but I’m only packing the bare minimum.
I glance at my phone on the dresser and move toward it, reading the message Doc sent me this afternoon that I haven’t been able to bring myself to respond to.
Doc: I won’t be here when you get home, but when I get home let’s order in so I can spend the rest of the night making love to you.
I shake my head, a small smile tugging at my lips at the same time the first tear falls against my cheek. I can hear him saying it, because that’s pretty much his solution for dinner every night. But it’s the swap from “fuck? to “make love” that has my stomach fluttering. Perhaps to most, the distinction between the two wouldn’t seem like much, but with Doc, it’s everything.
With shaky hands, I type a reply before deleting it and starting again. I do this three more times before dropping the phone on the dresser and walking away with a heavy sigh.
There’s no good way to say I’m leaving to put myself in harm’s way, and if I don’t die, I’ll be back as soon as I can.
I finish packing at the same time the burner in my pocket vibrates. I quickly fish it out and read the simple message three times before I shove it into the backpack.
Unknown: Downstairs.
Antonio is on the couch watching some action movie when I stick my head out of the bedroom. He has a bowl of popcorn in his lap as he watches some guy shoot another man on the television.
With a deep breath, I creep toward the door, looking over my shoulder every now and then to make sure he hasn’t turned around.
When I reach the door, I hold the handle for longer than I need to, trying to will myself to go through with this, but eventually I decide the lives of two of the people I love more than anything is more important than my fear, and I quietly slip from the apartment.
There’s no part of me that doesn’t know this is a mistake. So why the hell am I going through with it?
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
