“Hey brother, what’s going on?” June asked nonchalantly. That was a clue that she was hiding something. June always came to the point on the phone with him, especially during office hours.
“She’s there, isn’t she?” Lincoln said, knowing the hands-free mode in the car would pick up his voice.
“Who?” June asked vapidly, and Lincoln’s eyes narrowed on the display in the center of the car.
“Don’t fuck around with me right now, June. Is Roxie up there?” He waited, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel at a stoplight.
“Dammit, Lincoln. Why do I keep ending up in the middle between you two?” June protested, but her sigh of resignation told him she wasn’t going to put up a fight. “She still has her phone off?”
“I guess, it goes straight to voicemail, and she hasn’t even looked at the messages I’ve sent her. So, she’s there?” He already had her confirmation by admitting she knew Roxie’s phone was off, but he wanted it to be clear.
“She is. I left her at the cemetery with my other phone. You have the number for that one, don’t you? Not that she’ll answer it, why would she?” June sighed again, but Lincoln was too busy frowning at the light that was taking too long to turn green to notice.
“What do you mean, you left her at the cemetery? Why would you leave her alone like that?” Lincoln wanted to strangle his sister, who was always too trusting in these situations.
She was a great doctor but in her personal life? Well, she was a bit of a pushover. Normally, her kind and trusting nature would be a good thing, but she’d had a few mishaps over the years because of it. And now she’d left Roxie alone in a cemetery, in New York, the last damn place she should be.
“She was upset, it was the first time she’d been to their grave, you know? I had to get into the office, and she said she’d get a taxi. That’s why she has my other phone, so she could call the taxi to pick her up. I’m sure she’s fine anyway, Lincoln. She knows how to take care of herself. Stop smothering her.” June’s timidity gave way to anger as she went on, but Lincoln ignored it. Now wasn’t the time for his sister to grow a backbone.
“I’m not smothering her. I’m trying to keep her alive. I’ll see you later.” Lincoln ended the call just as the light changed. The tires spun a little on the asphalt when he gunned the engine, but he didn’t care. If the police wanted to give him a ticket, they’d have to do it from the air. Nobody was stopping him from getting on that plane.
The plane was delayed because of a storm, which did little to ease Lincoln’s anger or helplessness. He hated feeling that way, but he’d accepted it, for now. There was nothing he could do bar having someone bring him his car and drive to New York. That would take even longer than the delays were taking, though, so there was no sense in doing that.
He’d had a lot of time to think, sitting and waiting for answers, and he knew he’d been stupid. Yeah, he had a right to be angry about Roxie keeping Lily from him all this time, but that was shit he’d have to deal with. She’d done the best she could in the situation she’d been put in. She hadn’t asked for her parents to be killed, to lose her home, or to end up with a baby the first time she’d had sex at eighteen.
He had to give her some credit, actually, for having Lily and keeping her out of the world’s lens for so long. He’d had no idea the little girl had existed at all, yet, there she was, full of life, love, and laughter. His daughter.
She was a beautiful girl, and he’d never known he could love someone he barely knew so much, but there he was, sitting in an airport, with misty eyes as he thought about his daughter and her mother. He hadn’t wanted a wife, or even a girlfriend, although he had wanted children. His mother had poisoned the well, so to speak, with her serial weddings.
Lincoln had come to wonder if the woman loved the thrill and romance of weddings more than the actual marriage over time, and that had colored his perspective on women and their ability to stay in a relationship. Sure, there were other people he knew who’d been married for decades, but he couldn’t shake the idea that he never wanted to get married himself.
Until Roxie came back into his life.
He’d almost bought her an engagement ring when they visited Tiffany’s that day. He’d nearly proposed to her then. But, if he had, he’d have regretted it, he could see that now. There had still been secrets between them then. There may be more, but he had a feeling now he knew everything there was to know about Roxie.
He respected her need to have things unplugged around her when she left a house. He knew she hated goat’s cheese but loved every other variety of cheese out there. He knew she’d tried her best to raise her daughter without bringing shame or dishonor to the girl. He also knew she loved deeply and wholeheartedly when it mattered.
He’d seen her with her friends, with his friends, how she treated everyone with respect, right down to the waitstaff in restaurants. And when he’d seen her with Lily? He’d suspected she may never love anyone as much as she loved their daughter. Which was fine, because a child deserved all of its parent’s love.
Which was another reason he knew she hadn’t run away from Lily. She’d gone to New York looking for answers to the questions that plagued her in the dark hours, in the quiet moments at work, when she had time to think the thoughts that made her eyes go dark with sadness.
But there were people in New York who were probably still looking for her. A group of people that would stop at nothing to destroy her. Why, he had no clue, but that group of people was ruthless, cruel, and more dangerous than any other opponent Lincoln had ever had to deal with. He wasn’t afraid of them, but he also wasn’t stupid. He knew taking them on, confronting them, wasn’t the way to go. He’d only get his head blown off, without a blink of an eye.
No, he’d have to do this with caution, if they hadn’t taken her already. And if they had, well, he’d do whatever it took to get her back.
The plane was delayed another fifteen minutes and Lincoln finally couldn’t stand it anymore. He paced the floor as he called June yet again.
“Hello?” She said when she answered the call.
“Have you found her yet?” He demanded, not having the patience for polite greetings.
“No, Lincoln. I had rounds, then an emergency with a new patient. I’m not sure why you’re so freaked out. I’m sure she’s fine.”
“Are you done for the day now?” Lincoln had crammed his fingertips into the spot over the bridge of his nose, trying to ease the headache pounding to life behind his eyes.
“Yes, but I still don’t know what has you so worked up.” June was probably rolling her eyes. Lincoln could almost hear it over the phone, she sounded so impatient, but he didn’t give a fuck what she thought.
“I don’t have time for this right now. I need you to go and find her. Take her to your apartment. Don’t let her leave until I get there, understand me?” He paused, waiting for her answer.
“I guess. Damn, big brother, you could ask nicely, you know?” June spoke testily, her own ire rising.
Good, she might take him seriously now. “I could, sure. But you’d still be sitting on your ass, twiddling your thumbs if I didn’t light a fire under it. Now get out there and find Roxie. I’m getting on a plane.” Lincoln had heard the boarding call while he spoke to his sister and wasn’t about to cause another delay. He grabbed his suitcase and started to walk quickly to the line.
“See you soon then. Safe journey,” June said without any sarcasm at all. She’d already forgiven him.
“See you soon. Go find Roxie.” He hung up the phone and handed over his boarding pass to the agent with her hand out. She scanned the pass and wished Lincoln a pleasant journey. He smiled back, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
The flight soon took off without a hitch. Lincoln worked on a few items in his email that couldn’t wait before he settled into his seat and tried to relax. His thoughts spun around in his head though, making it hard to do anything except tap his fingertips against the hard plastic
of the chair he occupied.
“Drink, sir?” A male voice asked, and Lincoln looked up to see the flight attendant with a cart in front of him.
“Scotch, please,” Lincoln said, watching as it was poured. “Thanks.”
“Anything else?” The blond man asked with a smile that was pleasant, if not quite real.
“I’ll take a coffee, too, thanks.” Lincoln took the coffee, packets of sugar, and small tub of creamer the man gave him. He wasn’t really interested in the coffee, but he didn’t want to drink the scotch on its own. He’d need to wash it down with something.
The plane would land soon, and he’d need to be on his toes from that moment on. Instinct told him that something was wrong. He’d learned to trust that instinct a long time ago.
7
Lincoln
“Thanks for arranging this meeting,” Lincoln said to Paulo, a friend of his with connections to the less than savory parts of New York City life. Lincoln didn’t get his fingers dirty if he could help it, so Paulo was an asset at times like these.
“It’s my pleasure, Lincoln. Just don’t make me regret it,” the older man with salt-and-pepper hair and a finely-lined face said. His hard gaze met Lincoln’s across the car Lincoln was driving, a warning from brown eyes much darker than Lincoln’s. “I have to live here. Don’t forget that.”
“I’ll do my best,” Lincoln said, in lieu of a promise. He wasn’t going to promise a damned thing to anybody when it came to finding out where Roxie was. He’d move mountains and destroy whoever he had to if it meant he’d get her back. If that included stepping on a few toes as well, so be it. He’d crush anything that stood in his way.
His plane had landed without word from June, or anyone else for that matter. He’d decided not to call June back, he didn’t want to panic her more than he had. Instead, he’d called Paulo, intending to get some answers. If June hadn’t heard from Roxie, something was wrong. No amount of reassurance from June or anyone else would make him believe he was wrong. Something wasn’t right, he could feel it, he knew it.
The car pulled into an open bay of a warehouse and came to a stop. Why were these meetings always in fucking cold, damp warehouses? Lincoln thought to himself, looking out of the window of the car. He could see the typical chains hanging creepily down from the ceiling, and the way the floor gleamed with water, taking it all in without a verbal comment. If the guy he was about to meet wanted to be the typical mobster without a clue, he’d keep his judgments to himself. So long as he got answers, he didn’t care if the guy wanted to meet in the Statue of Liberty with Lincoln holding a dozen roses.
“That’s them,” Paulo said and opened his door when another car pulled in from the other side of the warehouse. Lincoln followed him out, pulling his black wool coat around him and buttoning it up. He stuck his hands in his pockets, feeling for the small 9mm pistol he’d tucked into the deep left side. The gun had been left in a small box on the backseat of the car he’d had his PA arrange for him.
He’d removed the gun from the box, placed it in the pocket, and put the coat on before going to pick up Paulo. The older man, slightly portly after a car accident left him with a broken leg that had never quite healed right, hadn’t suspected that Lincoln had the gun, or if he had, he hadn’t said anything about it. It wouldn’t matter if he had, Lincoln wasn’t going into this meeting unarmed or unprepared.
There may be no need for the gun in the end, but better safe than sorry.
“Let me do the talking,” Paulo said, waving Lincoln back a little to stand behind him.
Lincoln took up the position, but wasn’t about to stand there like a spare dick if Paulo couldn’t get the answers Lincoln wanted. His friendship with the man had begun a few years back when Lincoln first started his fintech venture. Paulo had invested in the startup and had made a tidy profit from the venture. Lincoln didn’t ask where Paulo’s money came from, and Paulo had offered his services if Lincoln ever needed them. Up to now, Lincoln had not needed those services.
Lincoln would do his best to stay calm and collected, but if this mob guy didn’t give him some answers, Lincoln would gladly break his neck. Which would get him nowhere but with a contract on his head, put out by the guy’s family. Even he knew not to mess with the fucking mafia, and the guy in the back of that black Maserati was definitely in the mob. Now if he could just remember that and not curb-stomp the guy, that would be good, Lincoln reminded himself silently.
The mob guy’s name was Matteo Mazza, now head of the Alfonsi family. He was no relation to the Alfonsis but he was related to the old boss of the family, a woman, oddly enough. She’d taken over the organization when her husband was taken out quite a few years ago. It seemed she’d appointed this Matteo guy as her successor when she decided to retire from mob life. Nobody knew where the woman was, but Matteo hadn’t been hard to find. He wasn’t often in this part of the world anymore, but he was now.
That was another reason Lincoln suspected Matteo was behind Roxie’s disappearance. The guy was in town just when Roxie went silent. That seemed too convenient, and Lincoln couldn’t ignore it. Suspecting the guy was a reach, if you didn’t know that the two men who had been at Roxie’s the night her parents died worked for Matteo. Lincoln also suspected they might be the men Roxie’s ex, Nathan, had been in debt to. Or the family that shithead owed money to, at least. That was two too many connections, so Lincoln was meeting with Matteo to find out what the fucking problem was and to get Roxie back.
“Paulo, good to see you.” A man around Lincoln’s age stepped up to the older man with his hand held out. He was in a tailored, camel-color overcoat with a black scarf around his neck. His black hair was cut stylishly, and his skin was tanned. And that wasn’t the kind of tan you got from a sunbed, it was from somewhere tropical with lots of sunlight.
“Good to see you too, kid. How’s the wife?” Paulo asked, taking Matteo’s hand. Paulo wore an overcoat as well, but his was tight around his stomach. Lincoln looked at the back of Paulo’s coat, noting the threads in the back seam were pulled tight. Paulo needed a new coat, or to lose some weight.
This was all just a way for Lincoln to distract himself while Paulo talked to the mafia guy, but Lincoln still caught the gist of the conversation. They must be on good terms if Paulo could call him kid, Lincoln decided, and let the gun in his hand go, for now.
“She’s good, Paulo. Suffering a little, but that’s to be expected.” Matteo shrugged a little, his gaze shifting to Lincoln. “Who’s this?”
“This is Lincoln Young. He needs some information, if you can help him out, Matteo.” Paulo gestured for Lincoln to move forward. Lincoln walked up, his hand out, even though he wanted to punch the guy with the defined jawline that he’d probably break his fist on.
Hard gray eyes looked Lincoln over, as if summing him up with one look. Matteo seemed to come to some kind of decision when his eyes met Lincoln’s as he nodded in approval. “What can I do for you, Mr. Young?”
“I need to know where Roxie is,” Lincoln answered shortly, not letting Paulo direct the conversation. It might be a breech in protocol, but Lincoln didn’t exactly give a fuck. At all.
“Who?” Matteo inquired calmly, his eyes softly blinking once before he gazed back at Lincoln steadily.
“Roxie Simpson. Your guys have her, right? I want her back. Name your price, it’s yours.” Lincoln stood his ground, not backing down, even when two men stepped out of the car, guns on display in their hands.
The two giants with black hair, twins by the looks of it, moved behind Lincoln, their arms crossed casually, but the guns still there. All they’d have to do was lift their hands and they could take Lincoln down before he even blinked, and he knew it. Best to try to negotiate, for the moment.
“I really don’t know who you’re talking about,” Matteo responded, waving the men back. He wasn’t threatened by Lincoln, but that wasn’t a smart move. All Lincoln had to do was lift his own hand, still in his pocket, and the man would be dea
d at his feet.
This was no time for a pissing contest though.
“Bullshit,” Lincoln spit out, ready to pull out his phone and show him the photos of the men that had been there the night Roxie’s parents died. They were older, but still the same men. And they were with Matteo in the pictures.
“Excuse me? Do you know who I am?” Matteo asked quietly, his eyes barely changing, but there was now a deadly tilt to them, a threat in the tightness at the corners.
“Yes, I know who you fucking are, I just don’t care. Roxie is missing, and I know your guys had something to do with it.” Lincoln paused, gathering his composure, or trying to. “What’s your price?”
“Look, I have a wife I care a great deal for. I’d do anything to get her back if she was missing, so I’ll let the disrespect go, but I’m serious. I have no reason to lie to you. I don’t know where this Roxie person is.” Matteo held out empty hands, his eyes now calm and, from what Lincoln could detect, honest. “If I had some problem with a woman, I’d never kidnap her, anyway. Especially one I don’t know. Besides, do I look like I’m short of money?”
Lincoln took a deep breath, his eyes catching the glare Paulo sent his way. He was pissing Matteo off and that wouldn’t help him. Lincoln wasn’t sure why he’d trust a guy in the mafia but he could feel it, this guy was telling him the truth. He had no idea where Roxie was. But those guys did, they had to be in on this somewhere. “Listen, I don’t mean any offense, I just want to get her back. Can I show you something on my phone?”
Lincoln held his hands up in the air now, trying to show he meant no harm. The gigantic twins took a menacing step forward, but Matteo waved them back. “Please. If it helps explain why you brought this to me, I’d appreciate seeing it.”
Dancing With Redemption (Barre To Bar Book 5) Page 5
