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“I need to call a few guys in here to start tracking. Will that be a problem?”
“How do you know it’s not one of them? Can you trust them?”
Her question catches me off guard. I run through the list of men I normally call for this sort of thing and then discard half of them. Of all the men I employ, all the men who swear undying loyalty to me, I trust fewer than five.
“A few,” I say. And because she’s been through so much already, I name one of them. The only one I could imagine she would have a problem with his being involved.
“Jeffrey,” I say, watching her reaction.
“It’s not him. I’d recognize his... hand.”
“I wasn’t implying it was him. He’s one of the men I will call. Will that be a problem?”
“Not for me. He might not like it, though.”
“He isn’t paid to like an assignment.”
“Fair enough.”
With that settled, I place the call.
Chapter Eleven
NOLAN
We enter, passing room after room, finally stopping at the end of a long hall to step into what I assume is King’s personal room. When I found the evidence on my phone this morning, I almost called the police. A normal person probably would have, but I knew from watching true crime documentaries that the police could only do so much. If they couldn’t locate Erin within the first forty-eight hours, she wouldn’t be alive by the time they found her. I couldn’t accept that. Not to mention, if I called the authorities, my father would find out, and that would lead to questions I didn’t want to answer.
King.
I knew he could find her, and whoever did this. I came here on instinct, praying he would still be here. If he hadn’t been, I don’t know how I would have found him.
“Do you think...” My words cut off, my seizing throat preventing the question from passing my lips.
“I’ll find her. Don’t worry,” King says, running a hand through his wet hair.
I don’t bother replying. I don’t have the ability to lace consonants and vowels together to ask if he thinks it’ll be too late, if, when he finds her, she’ll be in one piece, mentally and physically.
The room is dark, charcoal grey walls with a high black ceiling. Several pieces of furniture are placed around the room. In the center is a bed fit for a king, covered in lush pillows and a dove gray comforter. To the left is a door leading to what I assume is the bathroom. On the right, next to a window overlooking the city, are two leather chairs and a round wooden table. I take a seat in one of them, doing my absolute best to avoid the bed altogether.
King disappears into the bathroom, returning a moment later fully clothed. Thank God. Every time I glanced at his naked torso, my thoughts returned to the bed in the middle of the room, my mind to revisiting last night’s extracurricular activities that took place in another room on this floor.
“Would you like a water?” King asks, pulling two bottles from the mini fridge beside the bed.
I shrug my shoulder. “Sure.”
He frowns at the movement, a question burning in his gaze, but he doesn’t ask. I take the bottle from him and twist the cap off before swallowing a sip and placing it on the table next to my seat.
King leans against the wall rather than sitting in the free chair. I glance at him, then away. There are many things we need to discuss, like last night and the deposit he sent to my bank account, but I personally don’t have the energy to bring it up. Thankfully, he doesn’t broach the subject either.
The elevator dings distantly, and I tense before remembering King called his guys here. As much as I don’t want to face Jeffrey again, I will if King thinks he can help find Erin. I barely notice when he steps out of the room to meet them. My eyes flit across the city landscape, wondering where Erin is now, if she is in pain, hungry, hurt.
Could I have prevented this? Is this my fault? Those girls trusted me to keep them safe. It is and has always been one of my first priorities. When creating the app, I inquired on the best way to ensure our anonymity and the absolute best software for vetting clients. But nothing in this world is foolproof. Someone could’ve found a way to trick the system. The thought makes me sick to my stomach.
The app was created for women, by women, to help women. I was so sick of seeing men get away with cheating and lying. They destroy relationships and ruin lives. Then when the truth comes out, they flee like the cowards they are, most of the time, taking all the resources and making the women out to be crazy. I offer those women proof of infidelity so they can get their ducks in a row and take what they deserve when they leave.
The truth is, I enjoy it. I like taking that power back. But not at the cost of one of my girls’ lives.
I don’t know how much time passes while I stare out the window, my mind a violent storm of unkind thoughts. Eventually, King comes back into the room.
