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“Any sign of your boss, Astor?”
“They’re working on it.”
Same as they had been for the last forty-eight hours straight. Combining this with their concern for Justin, Ryder and Mack were looking a little worse for wear.
“Where’s Nate?” asked Mack.
“Asleep in the guest room.”
“Good.”
I nodded. Justin didn’t sleep for days while Nate was in the hospital. Once out, he stayed by his brother’s side until sleep eventually took them both. The two had been comatose for almost two days straight.
“You guys want some more coffee?” I asked.
“Please.”
“Dear God in Heaven—yes,” Mack said with the most spark I’d seen in him in the last few days.
I chuckled. “Coming right up.”
The boys, as I lovingly referred to them now, returned their focus to the card game they were playing, although Mack was feverishly texting on his phone most of the time. I got the sense the card game was nothing more than a ruse to make me more comfortable.
Truth be told, yes, I was out of my element, and under the care of the most intimidating men I’d ever met in my life, but I’d never felt safer.
After being released from the hospital, we were driven to Justin’s apartment just two blocks away from Astor Stone, Inc.’s headquarters. Justin’s penthouse—yes,penthouse—was located across the street from Central Park, with floor-to-ceiling windows that made you feel like you were flying. It was breathtaking. And for the time being, my new crash pad.
I was living from minute to minute, mainly because my head would explode if I spent too much time thinking about what happened next. My main concern and focus was on Justin’s recovery.
The bullet had gone through Justin’s upper arm, grazing his bone and missing his brachial artery. His doctor said, in no uncertain terms, that someone above must have cashed in a favor for this miracle. Justin was very lucky, only requiring stitches, albeit a lot. The doctor said he would be in a sling for weeks and would require physical therapy afterward.
Justin was down for a while—but not out.
The same doctor had also tended to the laceration on my cheekbone from where Viktor had punched me. Although it was now seven shades of yellow and purple, the salve he’d given me had eliminated the swelling, and for that, I was incredibly grateful.
Never again would I bear the mark of a man.
Never.
My second concern was, well,everything else. Returning to my home in Alaska was not an option—at least for a while. So, I was currently homeless, with no job, no car, and a fake identity that would only pass minimal checkpoints. The only clothes and toiletries I owned were the few I’d grabbed down the street after Ryder pretty much forced me to take a break from Justin’s side.
By the way, don’t ever go shopping on Fifth Avenue with limited funds.
I had a lot to do, and I needed money to do it, so my first goal would be to find a job. Then I’d pick up the pieces one by one and start a new life, yet again. But where?
I carried the carafe into the sitting room. A mound of papers, surveillance photos, and handwritten notes covered the glass coffee table. An impromptu evidence board contained every fact, clue, date, and timeline surrounding the mysterious disappearance of their boss.
“You know,” I said, perching on the side of an armchair. “I was thinking ... you said that nothing has suggested that Astor left against his will, right? Like, no one kidnapped him or anything like that, right?”
“Right,” Ryder said. “There are no signs that any altercation took place at either the office or his apartment where he was staying at the time.”
“And he just left without saying a word? Left his whole fancy-schmancy life, without even a note, right?”
“Appears that way.”
Mack narrowed his eyes. “How do you know this?”
“Eavesdropping is my superpower.” I grinned.
