Proof of Life (The Potentate of Atlanta Book 4)

by Hailey Edwards

  As much as Midas wanted to snarl and snap, mostly Bishop’s neck, Bishop was right to call him out on his behavior. There were myriad ways this could still go wrong, and Midas wasn’t doing Hadley any favors if he let her hope sweep him away too.

  If the coven had her family, they might be torturing them for information on her weaknesses.

  If the coven had her family, since they hadn’t asked for a ransom, their skins might be payment.

  If the coven had her family, they might already be dead and their remains kept from their eternal peace.

  If, if, if.

  None of the outcomes at this point were favorable, and it was dangerous letting her pretend everything would be all right if she believed it hard enough. That was setting herself up to fail, to blame herself even more, and he couldn’t encourage it any longer.

  She might not survive it.

  “Thank you,” Midas mostly said without growling. “I forgot myself.”

  “No problem.” Bishop tensed like he expected more or worse from him. “We all want the same thing.”

  “We’ll behave.” Hadley rested her hand on Bishop’s arm. “Thanks for checking us when we needed it.”

  Shrugging like they had made him uncomfortable, Bishop ambled back to his corner.

  “I’m doing that thing I do where I pretend everything is normal and okay even when I know it isn’t.” She pulled away from Midas. “I’m great at compartmentalizing. Fantastic, really. I can turn off messy emotions like a pro.”

  From the first time she flinched away from him, he’d known she had been abused at some point in her life. He spent enough time around children of all ages who had rebounded from horrors that would shatter an adult to recognize the signs. He had also learned no good came from pressuring someone to share their past who wasn’t ready to give it voice, give it life.

  The past changed how people viewed a person in the present, no matter how many promises were made beforehand, and the last thing people who had survived trauma wanted to see was their pain reflected in the eyes of their friends or loved ones.

  “Everyone grieves differently.” He linked their hands. “No one will judge you.”

  “When this is over…” She let the sentence die a slow death. “I have things to tell you.”

  It was as if she had pulled his thoughts straight from his head, and he went very still.

  “I can’t face it right now. Not with everything up in the air. I just…” She dug her nails into her palms. “I owe you my story. You told me yours, and I haven’t shared mine.”

  “You don’t owe me anything. Ever.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that.” She gave his fingers a reassuring squeeze. “I want to fill in the blanks instead of leaving you to do it for yourself. I want you to have the facts about me and not have to guess at them. I want you to know everything so that nothing ever surprises you. I want… I want one person in the whole world to know my story, and I want to be the one to tell it. To you.”

  Drawing her against him, Midas rested his chin on top of her head and breathed her in. “Thank you.”

  “Sorry I’m late.”

  Twisting aside, he spotted Ares dressed in black fatigues. “Glad you could make it.”

  Several of the others had shown up in their uniforms, dropping in as their work schedules allowed.

  “What kind of friend do you think I am?” Her breath smelled strongly of coffee. “I wouldn’t miss this.”

  Dark circles smudged the skin beneath her eyes, which were bloodshot. Her lips were cracked, and a line was worn in the skin of her brow from the frown she hadn’t shaken since the last time he saw her. Sleep continued to elude her, if the caffeinated twitch in her eyelid was any indication, but the yawns kept coming.

  “I’m sorry, Hadley.” Ares clasped hands with her. “So sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you.” Hadley hugged her. “I’m glad you came.”

  Midas noticed her wife hadn’t joined her, but he could understand why. Liz must have stayed home with the baby to prevent him from melting down in public when Hadley was already stressed to the max. Too bad the timing hadn’t worked in his favor. Now he would have to put Ares on the spot about Amber.

  “One of Liz’s patients was here earlier.” He infused apology into his voice. “Liz missed their appointment and isn’t returning her phone calls.” He hesitated. “How is Liz? The pregnancy is going well?”

  “There have been recent complications, nothing too serious, but Liz took some time off work.” Ares kept bouncing her gaze from face to face, scanning the room as if counting heads. “With Baby Alex giving us a nightmare introduction to Parenting 101, she must have forgotten to cancel.” She returned her focus to his chin, as high as she dared look. “She never answers work calls when she’s on vacation. They all go to her answering service. I’ll let her know the calls aren’t being forwarded so she can put in a tech support ticket.”

  The phone in Midas’s pocket vibrated, and he checked the display. “I need to take this.”

  “I’m going to find the coffee.” She shooed him on. “Then I’m going to start a caffeine IV.”

  “We got problems,” Ford said into his ear. “We’re missing a lot more than a single flashbang.”

  After catching Hadley’s eye, he paced to a quiet corner of the room. “What do you mean?”

  “The vault is short. I’m sending over the list so far. See if anything jumps out at you.” An old country tune played in the background, and horns blared. “There’s no telling who’s been skimming unless we get lucky and spot them on the security camera.”

  The vault held surplus from the armory, which meant it got inventoried monthly versus nightly.

  “Anyone with access to the vault has access to the surveillance room too.”

  “That’s what I was thinking too.” Ford sighed. “Hey, is Ares there yet?”

  “Yeah.” He rubbed his jaw. “She looks ready to fall over. Need me to hold her until you get here?”

  “Nah.” He paused. “I probably ought to keep my nose in my own business.”

  As much as the pack loved gossip, Ford was more restrained than most. “What’s wrong?”

  “I walked out with her, and Hank asked when Liz was coming home.” He sounded uncomfortable sharing what was meant to be a private conversation. “Last I heard, Liz was home with the baby, but Hank made it sound like Liz had been gone for a while. Any idea what’s going on there?”

  A warning prickle slid down his spine. “What did she tell him?”

  “She acted like she didn’t hear. Breezed right past him. I figure he hit a sore spot, and she didn’t want to answer in front of an audience.” The noisy truck engine fell silent. “I didn’t get to follow up with her. She got in a Swyft, and I headed to the garage.”

  “You’re here now?”

  “Just parked.”

  “See you inside.”

  Eyes sweeping the room, Hadley sidled up to him. “What’s wrong?”

  “Ares is lying.” He put away his phone. “We need to keep an eye on her.”

  Pain flashed in her eyes, alongside determination, as he filled her in. “Do you think…?”

  “I can’t tell.” He stared after Ares. “She reads the same as always to me, except…”

  Hadley turned her face up to his, waiting. “Trust your instincts.”

  “If Hank is right, and Liz hasn’t been home for some time, then she can’t be babysitting now.”

  Abbott cautioned the test was accurate four times out of five. That Ares might prove to be the exception left a sour taste in his mouth. He couldn’t picture her betraying the pack, the true Ares wouldn’t, but the coven were masters of unimaginable horrors.

  A grim certainty darkened her eyes. “We need to check her apartment before she gets back.”

  Midas had been about to suggest the same, but there was a problem. “You’ll be missed.”

  “As much as I hate being left behind, I agree.” She let wariness
show. “Update me when you can.”

  “Keep her busy.” He bent and kissed her, soft and quick. “Call or text me if she leaves.”

  “I will.” She clung to him a moment longer. “Be extra careful.”

  “I’ll be back as soon as I’m done.”

  Entering the hall at the rear of the restaurant, he faked the need for a bathroom break and bumped into Ford. “Watch over Hadley for me.”

  “You’re leaving?” His eyebrows climbed. “You’ve got a lead.”

  “I’ll touch base when I know more.”

  “All right.” He pointed behind Midas. “There’s an exit through the kitchen.”

  Midas took Ford’s directions and cut through the bustling cooks hunched over their workstations while a man dressed all in white walked the line and barked orders that injected steel into the workers’ spines.

  “What are you doing back here?” The head chef flicked his wrist. “The kitchen is for staff only.”

  Ignoring the man, which caused his face to mottle, Midas located the door and left.

  Had there been time, he would have engaged the man to soothe his ego and ensure his silence, but there was none.

  Midas had the Swyft app open and a ride booked before he hit the sidewalk.

  The driver pulled up as he began to pace, and he climbed in before the car rolled to a complete stop. Leg bouncing, he counted the seconds as if it would make the recalcitrant Atlanta traffic move faster. This time of night, he had a better chance of reaching the Faraday quicker by car than by foot. But he wished he had opted to run to burn off the nervous energy gnawing on him.

  Ares might have been compromised, but it gutted him to question her loyalty.

  Using his time wisely, he texted Abbott for a light interrogation on Liz.

  >Has Liz been in the clinic lately?

  >>Looks like the last time she signed in was five days ago.

  >Has she missed any appointments since then?

  >>Not that I’m aware of, but I can ask Lisbeth to check.

  >Do that.

  >>What’s wrong?

  >Maybe nothing.

  Maybe everything.

  With that done, he touched base with his mom to avoid bumping into her in the lobby and wasting precious time on explanations.

  >I’m on my way to the Faraday.

  >>That was fast. Where’s Hadley?

  >At the wake. We have a lead.

  >>Do you need backup?

  >This is recon. I can handle it.

  >>Text if that changes.

  >I will.

  The temptation to text Hadley an update twitched in his fingers, but he had no news, only worries.

  “Have a nice rest of your night.”

  Midas flicked his gaze out the windshield and noticed they had reached the Faraday.

  “You too.”

  He slid out of the car, set his phone to vibrate, and tucked it into his pocket.

  “You’re back early,” Hank said from his spot by the door. “And without Hadley.”

  Hank was far more perceptive than many gave him credit for, which was one of the reasons Midas had put him on doorman detail. Tonight, he wished Hank was slightly less observant. Then again, if he was right about Liz, he might have inadvertently given them their first real lead on a potential mole.

  “I forgot something upstairs.” Midas didn’t owe him an answer, but it was polite, and it alibied him if anyone else saw him hit the elevators and wondered. “Then it’s back to the wake.”

  Expression carefully neutral, Hank nodded and opened the door for him.

  Voices and laughter reached him when he entered the lobby. The gwyllgi enforcers hadn’t known Boaz or Addie, and without Hadley around, they had turned their wake into a giant pizza party.

  The path to the elevators was clear, and he walked it briskly to discourage anyone from interfering with his ground-eating stride. He got lucky. There were no witnesses when he mashed the button for Ares’s floor, and no one stopped the car during its ascent.

  The arrival chime sent a shiver of anticipation down his spine, and his inner predator roused to wakefulness as he strode down the hall to the familiar door. He stood there a moment, listening, but heard nothing. He raised his hand to knock, hoping a frazzled Liz would answer with bags under her eyes and spit up on her shirt, but no one came.

  The code to enter the apartment was already on his mind, and he mashed it into the keypad.

  The light flashed green, the lock turned, and still no one moved on the other side.

  Bracing himself for the worst, he eased the door open and began clearing the rooms, one by one.

  Liz wasn’t home.

  There were no signs of a baby having ever been there.

  But there was a laptop that woke at his touch, and its screen flickered to life. No password or pin required. Lazy security for an enforcer, but Ares might have wanted instant access or simply not cared if it was for home or shared use. He cursed at the highlighted video she had watched last on YouTube, a synthesized baby’s cries on an eight-hour loop.

  What the hell?

  The empty apartment offered him no insights, but Hadley might see more than him. He took out his phone and recorded every inch of the space, aware Ares would smell him in her den and know it had been violated. This was his one and only chance to document how she had been living before she hid or destroyed any evidence he might find.

  Part of him hoped the truth was simpler. That Liz had left Ares, and Ares had invented the baby story to give herself time to grieve and cope in private before having to answer hard questions. And the pack, being nosy as ever, would be full of them. But this felt bigger than a domestic situation.

  Aware time was short, he made quick work of his task and exited the apartment. He hesitated in the hall, tempted to knock on her neighbors’ doors to ask if they had scented or heard anything peculiar, as well as when they last saw Liz. But that would spread damaging rumors if this all turned out to be one big misunderstanding, and Midas didn’t want that for Ares or Liz.

  The ride down to the lobby gave him a moment to process, but he still wasn’t sure what he saw meant.

  As he stepped out onto the sidewalk, a car with a Swyft sticker on the windshield appeared, and Ares climbed out of it.

  His heart gave one solid thump, but it couldn’t catch its normal rhythm.

  Hadley hadn’t called him. He tried her and got punted to voicemail. He tried Linus. Grier. Same result.

  A growl rose in his throat when Ares spotted him, eyes wide, and the beast in him lunged for her throat.

  Eleven

  I woke staring at the ceiling, which was weird. I had been standing a second ago, with a glass of wine I had no intentions of drinking in my hand. I didn’t hurt, but I didn’t not hurt. I was sore, maybe. Muffled. It was a weird sensation I had trouble naming, but I was experiencing it in full force.

  Warm fingers brushed my outstretched arm, delicate but strong, and I struggled to turn my head.

  Grier joined our hands, her smile a hesitant thing, and mouthed the words, “You’re okay.”

  Or maybe she had asked if I was okay.

  I sucked at lipreading.

  Her eyes flicked past me, and I fought to roll my head in that direction.

  Linus lay on my other side, his hands laced at his navel, his legs crossed at the ankles.

  The wraith rode on unfelt air currents, its fingerbones clacking, clearly agitated as it drifted in this void.

  I must be dreaming.

  This was too frakking bizarre to be reality.

  A pinch in my chest twisted into a full-blown ache, but I had no injuries I could see. Though the black fabric of my dress could be hiding an ugly secret. I might be bleeding. Or maybe it was Ambrose rousing.

  That I couldn’t tell was not a great indicator of my present state of being.

  Unable to do more than twitch my limbs, I resumed staring at the ceiling, which was starting to blacken.

  Goddess.
>
  The building was an inferno, burning down around us, ash sprinkling us like rain without hitting our skin.

  An explosion?

  Had a bomb gone off?

  Was that why it was so quiet?

  I hoped it hadn’t burst my eardrums, then I decided it was better than the alternative. That I was dead, which would also explain why I couldn’t hear a frakking thing.

  About to come unglued, I began fighting whatever compulsion held me down until Grier hauled herself closer, flung her body over mine, and pinned me.

  The girl had definitely been eating churros on the regular since the last time she body-slammed me. I was in greater danger of her bony elbows puncturing one of my lungs than her weight suffocating me, but still.

  Ouch.

  A sense of timelessness swamped me, and I started drifting off again. I might have taken a nap if I hadn’t heard my name bellowed from a great distance. I knew in my bones it was Midas, but I couldn’t budge to comfort him. I couldn’t so much as twitch with Grier starfished above me.

  An eternity later, my ears popped, and smoke clogged my lungs. Sirens wailed, and water filled my nose. I shot upright, knocking her off me, and choked until the deluge from the firehose became a sprinkle. And still I heard that raw and ruined voice screaming my name. Over and over and over.

  “Midas,” I rasped, gaining my feet. “Midas.”

  Our collision would have knocked me onto my butt if he hadn’t caught me before I fell.

  “You didn’t call.” He crushed me against him. “You didn’t call.”

  “Shh.” I pressed my hands to his cheeks. “I’m okay.”

  I stroked his face, his throat, his chest, reassuring myself he was here, that I was alive.

  Around us, the others began stirring, and it was as if they were waking from a dream too.

  “The circle held.” Linus helped Grier to her feet. “You are remarkable.”

  “You’re just trying to butter my biscuits.”

  “I’m not sure what that means,” he confessed, “but I suspect the answer is…yes.”

  “I’ll explain later.” Beaming, she kissed Linus hard. “Let’s evacuate the others.”