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First, I have the most amazing night of my life with June at the auction, and then everything after that has flung itself off a fucking cliff. June, storming my office, rightfully demanding her money. My account being frozen because our CFO is being a jealous asshole, and then, my dad backing him up on it. The humiliation of having to tell her that my account is frozen because my father still thinks I’m a fucking child. And now, this.
I am not trying to make her problems about myself, but every problem she has is my fault, and I can’t fix any of them, and I am so frustrated that I might actually strangle the next person who gets between us.
In short, my luck has run out.
So, I have to figure how to operate without it. “Play it again … maybe we missed something. This time, watch the edges of the screen.”
They nod, and Mike plays the video again. No shadows at the edges. Nothing we missed. Fuck. It plays out the same every time. No one sees a damn thing. If someone had, they would have called the police by now. Or their own private security. Either way, nothing.
As much as I hate doing this, I have to tap Dad in. He has more resources than I do and far more money. Especially right now. Hell, maybe he has a clue as to what is going on. I almost laugh at the thought.
Our family has been in the entertainment and law industry for generations. We have always kept our noses clean and done things by the book. Elliot West is as likely to know about this as he is to know about the Yakuza. But he has friends who might be able to illuminate the situation. Entertainment is never that far from the seedy underbelly of the world.
A lot of deals go down at entertainment venues—clubs are great for being seen in public while not being heard. Same for concerts. Celebrities like to source bodyguards from less reputable sources, because those people are usually willing to do things others will not. Keeps them safe.
Right now, I’m wishing I had one of those disreputable bodyguards on June.
“Alright. Gentlemen, what do I need to do to ensure your absolute silence on this matter?”
They exchange a glance. George weakly says, “Don’t get us fired?”
I almost laugh, but then Mike says, “We just found out my wife is pregnant again. I can’t afford to lose this?—"
“No one is getting fired, so long as you both keep your mouths shut. Don’t even mention this to your wife. We don’t know what’s going on. I’d hate for anyone else to suffer the consequences.”
He quickly nods. “Not a peep.”
George agrees. “I won’t say a word to anyone.”
“Thank you both. Text me a copy of the video. I’m going to speak with my father.”
“Will do,” he sets about the task, as I run out of the security office for the elevator. As soon as the door closes, I slump on the wall. I know George and Mike can see me, and I don’t fucking give a shit. Exhaustion has gut punched me, and I’m just done.
It’s not the physical kind of exhaustion—I’m too wired for that right now. But my soul has been run over and backed over by a semi-truck. I cannot believe this is happening. I don’t want to believe it. All I want to do is crawl into bed and spoon June until I fall asleep with my arms around her, so I know she’s safe.
But none of that matters right now. Right now, I have to think about who would do this. That will tell me more about my next move than focusing on anything else.
Which begs the question, why the fuck kidnap a tax attorney?
Could it be a client of hers? Someone who didn’t get the outcome they wanted? Pretty sure that’s not the case. Otherwise, why text me her picture? Fuck, that picture grows rocks in my gut every time I look at it.
There is nothing in the picture to distinguish it from any other basement. Can’t even see the walls, which has to be on purpose. Just a bright light shining on June, and she’s tied to a wooden chair. Cement floor. No boxes or crates, no trash or debris. Only her.
This isn’t sexual. If this was just about money, they would have sent a ransom request. This is personal.
Who the fuck did I piss off enough to do this?
I sniff and shake myself out of my self-pity spiral. Whoever did this for whatever reason, they’re wrong. There is nothing I have ever done to warrant this as recompense. Maybe they have the wrong woman. Right now, I’m not sure if that would be better or worse.
-
Chapter 40
ANDERSON
When I get to Mom and Dad’s door, it’s open, and my gut clenches. What if something happened to them, too? Is the whole family under attack? I step to the side of the door, peeking in to look for enemies.
But then a caterer rushes through—another is holding the door open for them with their foot from the other side. They are taking their equipment out, since the party is winding down. My family must have left while I was in the security office.
