by Faith Gibson
“How did they even know he’s your son, Michael? Did they see you flying? I thought you said that property was secure. Someone must have followed you.” Rae wasn’t going to let it go, so he tried to think about what she was saying. She was right in that nobody should know Desi was his son unless they put two and two together the way he had when Matthew and Trevor showed him Desi’s photo. But Desi was a high profile rocker. His picture was all over the internet at any given time. Something else...
“It’s possible someone saw my face on the news and speculated, but Alistair is in Greece. He wouldn’t have known about Desi unless he has men on the inside over here in the States. Maybe someone followed me to your house, and when Desi showed up, they noticed the resemblance. I didn’t see anyone hanging around your house while I was there. Did anything happen out of the ordinary yesterday while I was gone to get food? Anything at all?”
Rae rubbed up and down her arms as if she were cold. Or shaking off a bad feeling. “Other than me getting roses, no.”
“Surely to the gods not.”
“Exactly. The driver was an old man. I really don’t think he could overpower Desi.”
Sixx had been so careless. “But he brought you roses after I specifically canceled the order for yesterday. And Doll, I would never send you roses. Come on. We need to get back to New Lomita so I can question him.” Sixx reached around Rae and grabbed Desi’s travel bag.
“You better find our son, Michael, or I’ll never forgive you,” Rae said as she climbed into the Jeep.
That was a given. Besides, if something were to happen to Desi, Sixx would never forgive himself.
Chapter Twenty-One
By the time they reached New Lomita, Desirae was ready to scream. She was only keeping it together because she didn’t want Michael to see her as a whiny, complaining woman. Having met Kaya, Desirae knew she would never live up to the Queen’s standards of being a kick-ass female, but she had to try. Kaya had filled Desirae in briefly on the other mates’ plights when they first got together with their Gargoyle. Isabelle’s son had been kidnapped, but Dante found him, and now they were all living happily together. Desirae had to trust that Michael would do everything within his power to find their son. If he was missing. Somehow she knew in her heart he had been taken.
It wasn’t like she could walk away from Michael anyway. She had consented to being his mate, and that bound them together forever. If something happened to their son, forever was a long damn time to hold a grudge. Instead of thinking the worst, she willed her mind to think positively. Negativity never did anyone any good, especially at times like this. She pulled on her big girl panties and kept her thoughts to herself.
When they reached the florist where Michael had purchased her flowers, the store was closed. He called the number, but nobody answered. Still, he left a message on their machine stating it was an emergency. “I have an idea,” Michael said when they pulled into the driveway at the back of her house. “Do you think you can draw a picture of the old man who brought the flowers? If we can get Julian looking for him, we may be able to find him sooner rather than later.”
“I can try.” Desirae could absolutely draw the man. She didn’t have a photographic memory, but she was good at remembering faces, especially those she saw more than once.
“Are you hungry? You need to keep your strength up.” Michael was typing out a text on his phone while he talked to her.
“No, I’m okay for now.” There was no way she could eat anything. She would rather throw up on an empty stomach than a full one. If things went south and news about Desi... No! No negativity. She found a random drawing pad and began sketching the face of the delivery driver. She had thought him a nice old man until the day he brought the roses. That day he’d acted strangely. “Michael... you don’t suppose the roses were...”
“Sonofafuckingbitch!” Michael cursed some more then the garbage disposal turned on. “The bastard put a transmitter on the side of the vase. It was on the refrigerator this whole time. Shit!”
“...bugged do you?” she finished even though she had her answer. Rae stood from the sofa and carried her pad into the kitchen. Michael was pacing, his hands carding his hair. “Baby, stop,” she implored. She loved his beautiful ebony hair and didn’t want him to pull it out by the roots.
“You don’t understand. I let my guard down. I left you and Desi here alone. Anything could have happened.”
Desirae placed the paper on the table and stepped in front of him. She reached up and pulled his hands down, grasping them tightly. “I’m not going to coddle you and tell you it’s okay, because at this point, we both know nothing’s okay. Not until we hear from Desi. But you can’t think about what could have happened. I need you to focus on what has happened. I need you to find our son, and I have to finish this sketch so hopefully I can help you find our son.”
Michael pulled his hands away so he could wrap his arms around her waist. “Sorry, Doll. You’re right. You draw, and I’m going to call Thane.” He kissed her lips softly then released her so she could get busy. He retreated into the living room to place his call.
It didn’t take Desirae long to come up with a basic sketch of the delivery man. Instead of drawing him as the sweet man she met on the first day, the final drawing depicted the face when he was staring at her window. This was the man who possibly knew something about her son. Michael was still on the phone, so Desirae went ahead and scanned the drawing to Julian. The sooner he had it, the sooner he could get busy finding the identity of the older man.
When she came out of her bedroom, Desirae entered her son’s room. She plucked a photo from the mirror frame above his dresser. The picture was old and faded, but it was his favorite. They were at the beach, and Desirae was helping him make a sand castle. Those were the days when she still had friends that wanted to hang out with her and her son. Sighing, Desirae moved on to an acoustic guitar in the corner. She lifted it from the stand, and held it close. Desirae loved music. Always had. It only made sense her son would love it just as much. She strummed over the strings, wishing she could play the way Desi did. When he held the guitar to his chest, he became one with the instrument.
“Rae.” Michael was leaning against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were tormented, and his voice betrayed him. Desirae returned the guitar to its stand and went to him. She needed to feel close to him. Not because of the mate bond, but because she needed his strength.
“Tell me,” she said, keeping her cheek to his chest so she didn’t have to see his eyes.
“Thane found Desi’s phone.” Michael didn’t need to elaborate. Someone had taken Desi! “We’ll find him, Rae. I promise you, I will not stop until I have our son back.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she whispered into his now wet t-shirt. His body vibrated beneath her cheek. Desirae didn’t need to be a shifter to know that Michael was doing his best to contain his rage. If he weren’t holding her, she had no doubt his fangs and claws would be out. Hers would be if she had them. She wanted to blame Michael for bringing trouble to their door, but she realized this was on Alistair, or whoever had taken her son. Standing there crying wasn’t doing either of them any good so she pulled away and wiped the tears from her face.
“I need to call Tyson and let him know what’s going on. How much do I tell him?” She didn’t want to lie, but she couldn’t exactly tell him Desi had been kidnapped by a mad Gargoyle.
“I think we need to tell them it appears he’s been kidnapped, but we need to be as vague as possible. If we allow the news to get hold of the story, it’s possible someone will have seen him. We can chalk it up to a crazy fan.”
Desirae pulled Michael’s face down for a kiss. She allowed her lips to linger on his, drawing more strength through the contact. She pulled away and went to find her purse. Michael’s phone rang as she reached the living room. If it was good news, he’d tell her, but if Desi had managed to get free, she had no doubt he would cal
l her first. She found her phone and made the call to Tyson. Michael’s call was shorter than hers, and he found his way to her, pulling her back to his front while she tried to explain things to Desi’s friends.
“Maybe Cynthia can call a news conference and ask if anyone has seen him,” Desirae suggested to Tyson.
“I’ll call her and get her on it. Do you want us to come to you? I don’t want you to be alone.”
“That’s sweet, Ty, but I’m not alone. Michael’s here with me.”
“What did the police say? Don’t they need for someone to be missing twenty-four hours before they’ll get involved?”
Desirae hadn’t thought about that. They hadn’t called the police. Michael and his Clan were handling everything themselves. “Tell him we were waiting until we knew for sure, but the local authorities have been notified,” Michael whispered.
Desirae relayed the message, and after a few more instructions, she hung up. “I forgot all about the police. Are you going to get them involved? I mean, once this hits the news, they’re going to know. Won’t they ask questions?”
“I’ve already called Sinclair. He’s getting in touch with whichever Gargoyles are on the force in and around Three Rivers. Also, Julian called. He has the identity of the delivery driver, thanks to your sketch. He suggested you either get a job with the police department or you start selling your art. He is impressed with your attention to detail.”
“That’s nice, but if you know who the man is, why are we still standing here?” Something was up. They should have been out the door as soon as Michael had a name.
“I’m waiting on Urijah.” Still not the right answer.
“For?” Desirae didn’t think she was going to like his response.
“If this man is associated with Alistair, he’s dangerous. I’m not going to subject you to being around someone like him any more than you already have been. Uri is going to stay here with you while I go question him.
Nope. She didn’t like his response. Not one bit.
Desi couldn’t move. Couldn’t see. He opened his eyes. At least he thought he opened them. Nothingness. A sense of dread inched its way from deep within his soul outward. So this was what being dead felt like. Nothing. Just an empty void. No sight. No sound. No... anything. So much for heaven and hell. Then again, this could be hell. Especially the no sound part. For someone who lived their life surrounded by loud music daily, the eerie quiet was definitely hell. How long before he went mad?
Regrets wormed their way into his consciousness. He had just met his father, and now he wouldn’t have the chance to really get to know Michael. He had found out about Simone, but she was off in New York, probably dating some other artsy type. The band could find another lead singer, but would they? He hoped they would go on making music, sharing their talent with the world. Pretty Momma... His beautiful mother was his biggest regret. She was his reason for doing everything. The reason he was the man he’d grown to be. He gained his strength through hers. Desi also gathered strength through her weakness. He’d learned to be the man of the house early, and he owed her everything. He didn’t regret one day of his past. He regretted all the days of the future he wouldn’t get to see.
Desi let the darkness take over. He calmed his mind and thought about... nothing.
Simone bobbed her head up and down to the beat of the latest Cyanide Sweetness song as she threaded the needle on her sewing machine. Her mother would say she was cheating by sewing her latest creation with a machine instead of by hand, but she only had so much time to get the quilt made before Josie’s birthday. Speaking of her obnoxious roommate, the door flew open and Josie’s mouth was going ninety miles an hour, even though she knew Simone couldn’t hear her. If her arms hadn’t been flailing in protest, Simone would have ignored her. Whatever her bestie was saying was important enough for her to invade Simone’s privacy. Simone slid her headphones from her ears, wrapping them around her neck.
“Sims! Your boyfriend’s on TV,” Josie exclaimed like Simone would know what she was talking about.
“Come again?”
“Desmond Rothchild. He’s on TV. You’ve got to come see this!” Josie exclaimed.
“First of all, he is not my boyfriend. Second, why would I want to interrupt my project to look at someone who’s so far out of my reach he isn’t even in the same stratosphere? He doesn’t even know I exist.”
“He’s missing, Sims! They think some crazy fan kidnapped him!” Josie took off to the front of their apartment where the only television was. Simone couldn’t tell if Josie was punking her or not, so she followed her friend to the living area. Sure enough, Desmond’s gorgeous face, sans vampire makeup, was on the screen. Even though he was allegedly abducted in California, this was big news. So big, the local New York stations had cut into their regularly scheduled programming.
Simone plopped down on the ottoman as she listened to the news reporter. Desmond Rothchild was a pompous ass, thinking he knew better than she did about costume design. She was an award-winning stylist, something that was unheard of for someone so young. Simone knew her stuff. Not only was he pompous, but he made her nervous. Why wouldn’t he? Desmond was only the lead singer for one of the world’s fastest growing rock bands. Normally, she didn’t like hard rock, but his voice called to her on a cellular level. Even though the songs Cyanide Sweetness played were hard core, Desmond somehow sang her to sleep every night. He was a drug, and she was a junkie of the worst kind. And now, her drug was missing.
“Sims, you okay?” Josie asked when the news report was over.
“Yeah, it’s just shocking. I can’t believe someone we’ve met has been abducted.” She tried to play it off, but if anyone could smell bullshit, it was Josie.
“Right. Someone we’ve met. You just keep on telling yourself he means nothing to you, sweetie. Maybe one day you’ll believe it. Since you’re not bothered by the fact Desmond’s been kidnapped, how about a night on the town? Maybe a little wine and dancing at Rockford’s?”
Simone scowled. “You know I’m working on something for my mother. Besides, it’s too flipping cold to go out. Remind me why we moved here away from the sunshine?”
“To live our dreams! You’re going places, Sims. Pretty soon, you’ll be getting calls from major movie studios.” Josie pirouetted and bowed as she always did whenever they spoke of making it big. So far, Simone was the only one of the two to come close to her dream job. Josie was still auditioning every week, and every week she was getting turned down. She was talented, but she obviously didn’t have that something the talent agents were looking for.
“And you’re going to get your big break, too. But seriously, I have to stay in and sew.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ll veg on the sofa while you toil away in your dungeon.” Josie sat down in the overstuffed chair, pulling her legs underneath her. She began flipping channels, dismissing Simone to her project.
When she got to her bedroom, Simone shut the door and leaned against it, closing her eyes. “Please, whoever’s up there listening, please keep Desmond safe.” Simone wasn’t religious and never prayed for herself. But this was different – this was Desmond – and the world wasn’t ready to lose him yet.
Simone sat back down at her sewing machine and picked up one of the pink squares of fabric. Josie might not be a famous ballerina, but she shone as brightly as one. The quilt Simone was making was one of a kind, scattered with pinks and silvers throughout the design. It was a pain in the ass, but it would be worth it to see the smile on her best friend’s face when she opened it on her birthday. Simone glanced at the pattern to make sure she had the correct piece. Seeing that she did, she placed it next to the silver piece and sewed them together.
Concentrating was impossible. Simone couldn’t stop thinking about Desmond. They had met when the company she worked for was contracted to do a new set and costume design for the band. Instead of getting to work with Desmond, she’d been assigned to the drummer. Brett Thomas was a good-looki
ng man, but he didn’t have anything on Desmond. When one of the other girls called in sick, Simone was tasked with fitting Desmond with fangs. She approached him professionally, but when he refused to even think about the prosthetics she was offering, she got offended. She didn’t tell him how to sing a song. He wasn’t about to tell her what stage makeup was the best.
Desmond had shown her his own fangs, and damn if they didn’t look authentic. Better than the ones she’d brought. Still, he didn’t have to be a dick about it. The ass even hissed at her. She stomped off like a scolded child, but she kept to the shadows and watched his every move after that. Something about him stirred feelings deep within her. Made her want to plan a wedding and have his babies. And that right there was why she had to stay away from the man. She was too young to be thinking such ridiculous thoughts. Babies with Desmond Rothchild? They would be beautiful, that was for sure.
“Fuck!” Uri yelled as he hung up the phone.
“Problems?” Banyan asked, directly behind him.
Yes. You, you insufferable bastard. “Desi has been abducted. Sixx needs me to come watch over Desirae so he can question the man who delivered flowers to her home. It seems the vase was bugged.”
“Would you like for me to go with you?” Banyan asked quietly, the concern evident in his eyes.
What Uri would like and what was necessary were two completely different concepts. “Thank you for the offer, but no. I need you to continue setting up the equipment and make sure it works properly. As soon as this latest crisis is over, I’ll need to focus my attention on the armory and getting everyone on the West Coast equipped.”
“Do you really think there will be a war? Is the Greek so deep into his hatred he would risk humans finding out about us? Humans other than the mates?”
“Yes, I do. It’s why getting this armory up and running is so important. Now, if you’ll take care of things here, I’ll be on my way.” Uri had to get away from this Goyle. Something, other than their past history, rubbed him the wrong way. Every time he was around Banyan, he felt the urge to hit the male. Or fuck him.
