by Evelyn Glass
Instead of pulling her farther along, he stopped, spinning around, his face painfully close to hers.
“Listen to me, and listen to me very carefully. I love that little girl more than I have any right to, and I one-hundred percent believe that if you call the police right now, the people who snatched her— and Abbey — are more likely to harm her than they already are. Right now, they have leverage over the people I know and over me. Once the cops are involved, that leverage goes away, and they will know that. If you care about her as much as you say, please, just come with me. Come with me, and I promise, we will figure out how to get her back. But I can’t let you call the police right now. I can’t.”
In the end, it wasn’t his surprisingly sincere speech that put Emma over the edge into trusting him. It was a good speech, all things considered, but it wouldn’t have been enough. No, what finally convinced her that he was speaking the truth was the wetness that suddenly glimmered on his lower eyelashes. There was no way such a shitty liar could fake tears that easily. Whatever was going on, she believed it. It was weird, though. If Abbey and her kid were so important, why were they scholarship students at the center? Why did Mia come in with second-hand everything, so proud to show off that her new backpack was brand new, the kind of new that meant no one had ever had it before? It just didn’t quite stack.
“Okay,” she said. “Okay. But I need to get my purse. All right?”
“Yeah,” he replied. “Do that. Go ahead.” He loosened his grip, and she stepped away. “No, wait,” he added, and she paused. “Just grab your absolute essentials. Leave your purse here. If we need to, later, we can tell the cops that you were snatched, too, but got away. All right?”
“Okay…” Emma ducked back into the building and pulled her phone out of her purse. She pulled a small wad of cash after her wallet and left the wallet itself inside her bag. She had two small bottles of medicine that she kept with her all the time — and thank goodness she did — and then she was done. She stuffed her phone and the bottles down her bra and headed back outside. She’d half hoped that Dean would be gone, but he was standing there, waiting for her.
Well, the good news was that she was about to get her first ride in a Gran Sport. That was something.
Chapter Four
Dean
Dean watched the pretty teacher — Emma — walk back out to him, his heart slamming in his chest. How was this going to play out? His baby girl gone, his sister-in-law gone, and he had absolutely no idea how he was going to get either one of them back. Despite his show of bravado to Emma. Involving the police would only lead to disaster, he was absolutely convinced of it. It was just too convenient – the weird race that Fred Killian had pulled a gun on him over, and then dropped it the second he pushed back at all. The fact that someone knew enough about his life that they grabbed Abbey and Mia, both at the same time. It could be that they knew Dean helped out his sister-in-law, for the memory of his dead girl, but what were the odds, really? It was all too convenient.
I should’ve pulled away farther, he thought to himself. I should’ve set up some kind of dummy account to send Abbey money. I never should’ve shown my face around that kid. I should’ve just let Abbey be her mother and been content, knowing she was safe. Look what I’ve done now.
He forced himself to stop. He hadn’t been responsible for Sam’s death, and he wasn’t responsible for this. The people who were responsible were the people who perpetuated the violence. No one else. But he needed to figure out what was going on, and fast. Did the Scorpions have a connection to this? And if they did, how deep did it run?
He went around to his side of the Buick without opening Emma’s door, then kicked himself and started to go back. Emma had already opened the door and slipped into the low seat. She was running her hands appreciatively over the custom dash he’d installed.
“Nice,” she said as he swung into the driver’s seat.
If it had been any other goddamn day, he would’ve offered to pull off her leggings with his teeth and give her a ride. The sight of a woman like that running hands over leather made his cock iron hard in moments. But he had to keep his eye on the prize, and fucking Mia’s teacher wasn’t going to help him get the girl back. But maybe later. Connections forged in times of trial. Something like that. Maybe later we can let off some steam together. God, no. He was not thinking that crap.
He started the car, shifted, and then passed his phone to Emma before he started to drive.
“Open up the contacts and call Henry,” he said. “Put it on speaker, and keep quiet. All right?”
“Sure,” Emma said, following his instructions. She held the phone out toward him so he’d be able to hear clearly and speak back. Good girl, he thought to himself and liked the way it made his body feel.
Connell answered after a few rings. “Yeah, Dean?”
“Yeah,” he replied. “What do we know?”
Connell sighed. “Nothing yet. I’m digging. Abbey’s car just got picked up out by the highway. From the chatter over the scanner, it’s just pinging as abandoned. No one’s talking about foul play yet. The cops aren’t doing anything.”
“Anyone notice that things got interesting at the school?”
“Not yet. What about the teacher?”
Dean looked away from the road for a moment, looking at Emma, who was gazing back with her eyebrows raised. He made his decision. “She ran out there with me, trying to catch the guy who snatched Mia. I convinced her not to call the cops.”
“Can you trust her to do it?”
“For a few hours at least,” he flubbed, hoping he was a better liar over the phone than he was in person. And it wasn’t entirely a lie anyway. It was easy to convince Emma not to call the cops when she thought he could help. A few hours from now, if he had no leads and no ideas, it would probably be a very different conversation. “If we get to the evening news, and there’s not a story about a little girl snatched and then returned to her family, I think she’s going to get worried.”
“Then we move fast,” Connell said. “I’ll keep digging. Call me if you come up with anything. You’re going to work your angle?”
“You know it,” Dean said. He nodded his head at Emma, and she interpreted it correctly as a direction to hang up the phone.
“What’s your angle?” she asked. It was a sensible enough question. He liked that she was keeping her head, or at least if she was panicking, she was keeping it to herself.
“We’re going to Abbey’s place. I have a key,” he said when she raised an eyebrow. “I want to look around, see if there’s anything there that might give us an idea who grabbed them both.”
“I know I’m starting to sound like a broken record,” Emma said, and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “But isn’t it possible we’ll be destroying valuable evidence the police need? You know, if that pretty schoolteacher goes all weird and female and calls the police as if an actual crime had been committed?”
“They’ll make it worse. I keep telling you.”
“Are there dirty cops in town or something? Are we in some strange alternate timeline or a Law and Order episode?”
He was ready to snap back, but her eyes were sparkling with laughter. In that heartbeat all of his anger, his fear, his disgust at somehow fucking up this one, simple thing up so massively, turned on its heel and channeled itself into pure, intense lust. His cock was rock hard, trapped painfully by the leg of his jeans. If he had been anywhere else, on any other day, he would have pulled the car into a secluded parking lot to see if she’d let him get a hand up under those pretty leggings.
She wanted him, too. He’d seen it when they were flirting in the doorway. He’d tried not to notice then, so focused on getting Mia, but the sparks between them had been heated and intense. They hadn’t gone away, they’d just gotten buried under the fear.
“NYPD Blue,” he said, forcing the words out so that he could stop staring at the curve of her breasts under her top. “That was the one that
always had dirty cops.”
“They both did.”
“Fine. But no. There aren’t any dirty cops in town. That I’m aware of.”
“I’m just saying, when the victims try to take justice into their own hands, things never work out well for them.”
“Nonsense. Didn’t you see Taken? It’s an entire movie series about Liam Nielsen fucking over people who came after his various family members.”
“Point.” She was quiet for a bit, then pulled out her phone. From her cleavage. Wow. He filed that image away for later consideration. She had rather a lot of cleavage, and he imagined a man could get lost in it. That would be just fine with him.
“Huh,” she said.
“What?”
“My friend Cassidy has sent me a bunch of text messages. She’s asking me to meet her for drinks.” There was something in her tone.
“That’s not normal for her?”
“If it were a Friday? Totally normal. Middle of the week? Not normal.”
His stomach curled in on itself, the fear rising up to wash out his desire again. “Do me a favor, please, and turn your phone off.”
“You think something’s wrong?”
“I think that right now, we can’t afford to be too careful.”
She watched him for a long minute, then turned the phone, so he could see and powered it down. Before sticking it back into her cleavage. Dammit.
###
Emma
Emma tried not to pay too much attention to Dean’s eyes tracking her hand as she slipped her phone back into her bra. Served him right for not letting her take her purse. She was feeling less and less sure about the plan as they drove. On the field by the school, with Dean’s hand on her arm it had seemed like the obvious choice, but now? No. There was something painfully off. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. She wished she had a way to turn back time and take a different path. She should’ve called the police.
What would he have done if she had? The question sent shivers up her spine. He seemed like a man who had the capacity for incredible violence if he was provoked. She didn’t want to find out.
She forced herself instead to concentrate on the rather obvious stiffness in the leg of his jeans. He was just as turned on as she was, it seemed — by the situation, by the fear, by her, it almost didn’t matter which one. It was a distraction from the intense fear that was trying to choke her off at the throat, drop her into total anxiety and misery.
She turned her attention outside, watching the city roll by. Based on what she knew about Mia and Abbey, she’d expected to see Dean turn the Gran Sport towards the older, more neglected part of town. Instead, he was heading into the newer, recently developed part of the city, where houses were expensive and apartments were luxurious. In fact, he parked the Gran Sport in the underground garage of a building that Emma had looked at once, coughed, and walked away from. He didn’t look awed or surprised at all as he stepped out of the car. When Emma lagged behind in getting out, he walked around and opened the door for her without a trace of irony or irritation.
“This is where Abbey lives?”
“Yeah,” he said, either not catching or ignoring her tone. He started across the garage, and after a moment, she hurried to keep up. He used a pass to access the elevator. They rode up several flights. He walked without any hesitation or any sense that he didn’t belong. Emma tried to maintain the same level of confidence, but there were so many places she’d gotten into trouble for looking like she belonged that it was difficult to keep pace. He led her down a long hallway stopping at a door halfway down. Pulling out a key, he quickly unlocked it and slipped inside. She followed and closed the door behind him.
The apartment was lovely. Her own little place — in the old side of town — was fine. It was bigger than Abbey’s and closer to some of the retail areas, but it wasn’t as light, as cleanly designed, or as well furnished. The apartment looked like something out of a magazine layout. It was so clean, it seemed impossible that a child lived here, but everything also all went together. It wasn’t what she’d expected at all.
Well. She didn’t know anything about them, really. Just that Mia was at the school on a scholarship, and there were many different reasons that happened. She wasn’t about to start inferring anything about Abbey based on just this. But the apartment was truly gorgeous.
She glanced at Dean, who was standing perfectly still, looking around with a careful, studying gaze. She got the idea that he wouldn’t miss a single thing in the apartment — and he probably knew it better than she did, so it wasn’t like she was going to find something he wasn’t. She waited as long as she could until the silence got overbearing, she asked, “Do you see anything?”
He shook his head. “And that’s the problem.”
“What do you mean?”
He glanced at her, one eyebrow raised. “Don’t you work with kids? Can you imagine a child living here?”
She found herself laughing. “I was kind of wondering. I mean, Mia isn’t a disaster at school, but she’s also not preternaturally neat. This place is… pristine.”
“Yeah,” he said. “And Abbey is not pristine. Never has been. There’s… something’s really wrong.” Which was kind of a funny thing to say, from Emma’s point of view. Only now was something really wrong? Before, having his sister-in-law and niece kidnapped, that was just regular wrong? What kind of world did this guy inhabit?
She suspected that the answer was going to make her feel very afraid. She tried to push that thought away. It wasn’t going to help. Not unless she was going to try and make a break for it.
“What are we looking for?”
He sighed. “I was hoping for a scribbled note or a help me message written on the window in lipstick. Something obvious. It looks like someone’s been through here.”
“Could she have just hired someone to clean for her? Something less sinister?”
He shook his head without even looking at her. “Not Abbey. She hates having people in her space. I’ve been offering to hire someone for her for years, but she refuses. Says she’d never trust anyone being here without her watching over them, and it even then she’d be worried about blinking.”
“How would she feel about me being here?”
He gave her a baleful look and didn’t say anything. “I hope that she gets to yell at me about it. I really do. I might have to buy her a new apartment.”
That was an interesting comment. “Did you buy her this one?”
He hesitated, then nodded. “When Abbey moved up here, she didn’t have a lot of cash, and she had a brand-new baby to take care of. I helped her get set up. The firm selling these condos owed me a favor, so we cut a deal. It’s a safe place. Good building to raise a kid in.”
“You’re a good brother-in-law.” She’d said it without thinking, just the kind of compliment people were supposed to make. The way he winced surprised her deeply.
“I try,” he said. “I’m going to go look in the bedroom. Can you check out the bathroom? I don’t know what the hell kind of crap she has in there. You wear—” he gestured at her in a vague sort of up-and-down way “—makeup. You’ll know if something’s out of place.”
Well. That was annoying and dismissive. Just because he was right, she was wearing makeup, didn’t mean that she had a damn idea what this particular woman should have in her cupboards and drawers. But doing something would distract her from the awkwardness of being in someone else’s space when that person wouldn’t want her to be there. She followed his directions down the hall, to the small bathroom, and started opening the medicine cabinet and drawers.
The first thing she noticed was that Abbey clearly spent a lot of time on her hair. Emma was familiar with some of the products from keeping her own curls under control. The next thing she noticed was that the woman had as many anxiety prescriptions as she did. She counted two separate antidepressants, one as-needed anxiety med, and one expired bottle of a pain medication. It had been prescribed to
Abbey Jenner, though, so that was a positive sign.
Her own small orange prescription bottle pressed into the flesh of her breast. She absolutely never left the house without her prescriptions. Most of the time, just knowing the bottle was available was enough to make sure that she didn’t need it, but sometimes, when it was panic attack or meds, having the option readily available was so important. Maybe Abbey had a smaller, less noticeable pill bottle that she carried with her, but still. She doubted that Abbey would purposefully disappear without her meds. Unless… her meds were off, and she’d done something to hurt herself.
But that wouldn’t explain what had happened to Mia. Emma pushed that thought away as far too depressing and useless and kept looking. She found midrange cosmetics, facial cleansers, tampons, birth control pills, and basic medications in both child and adult doses. Under the sink were spare toilet paper, cleaning products, and a blow dryer and flat iron. The shower was cleaner than Emma’s, and even the area around the toilet was clean of dust and dirt. The bathroom was completely spotless.
