No, Paul didn’t think he was crazy, but he was paranoid. If his employees weren’t with him, they were against him.
Twitching nervously, Paul growled in frustration. He’d been searching for the damn chef for months. He’d thought he’d located her a couple times, only to be disappointed.
He hadn’t said anything to his son, or his head capo…his uncle, who was in charge of some of their soldiers. No, this was his fuckup, and he needed to make it right.
And as long as Elodie Winters was out there breathing, there was a chance she’d talk. Blab her mouth about what he’d asked her to do. She had information that could potentially bring him down. And for that—and for having the nerve to tell him no—she had to fucking die.
But first, he had to find her.
They’d located her in Pennsylvania and Los Angeles, but hadn’t been able to kill her before she’d disappeared both times. She had no family he could threaten her with. No real friends whose fingers he could chop off and mail to Elodie…not that he’d know where to mail them anyway.
The woman was a ghost. A ghost with no friends and no connections. He’d thought that would made her the perfect employee, but he’d been wrong. And Paul Columbus hated being wrong.
A knock on his door brought Paul out of his head. “Enter!” he called out.
Andrew stepped inside the office and closed the door behind him. Andrew was one of his capos, but he wasn’t related by blood. He was lower in rank than Paul’s uncle, loyal as hell, and Paul trusted him implicitly. He was the only one he’d trusted with his current problem, and Andrew had been working for months to find Elodie.
Andrew had a shit-eating grin on his face and looked way too fucking cheerful for Paul’s current mood.
“You better have something for me. If you don’t, you can turn right around and leave. I’m not in the mood today.”
“I’ve got something,” Andrew said immediately, striding over to the desk.
Paul rounded the desk and sat. Andrew placed a thumb drive on the desktop, then stood back, still smiling.
“Well? What the fuck is that?” Paul asked.
“It’s a video I think you’re gonna wanna see.”
“I only want to see it if it’s got that bitch on it,” Paul muttered. But he leaned forward and grabbed the drive as he spoke.
Andrew didn’t respond, and Paul’s heart began to beat faster.
Was this their first real lead since the bitch had disappeared into thin air? It was improbable that someone so stupid had been able to cover her tracks as well as she had.
He plugged in the thumb drive and waited impatiently for a window to open. He clicked on the video file and watched as a newscast began to play. It was in German, with subtitles. Playing behind the newscaster was a clip featuring a huge cargo ship with the name Asaka Express on the side. Paul remembered hearing about how the dumbass captain had gotten himself and some of his crew killed. He had no idea how in the world backwater pirates could ever take over such a large ship like the Asaka Express, but he hadn’t really cared enough to find out more about the incident.
“Look closely, boss,” Andrew said. “At the crew members getting off the ship.”
Paul leaned in and watched as men in overalls came off the ship one by one. Then there were a few officers wearing white uniforms. US Naval personnel were escorting them, and Paul knew they’d been called in to help pilot the ship into port safely.
The crew all assembled at the bottom of the gangplank and paused for a group picture. Paul was about to ask what the fuck Andrew had brought him, and why, when one of the crew members caught his eye. He was shorter than the others and standing slightly behind one of the officers.
Squinting, Paul leaned closer. That wasn’t a guy. It was a female.
As he watched, one of the officers turned and put his arm around her shoulders, hauling her to his side before the video cut out and the German newscaster was on screen again.
Rewinding the video, Paul paused it right at the end.
He looked up at Andrew. “It’s her.”
“I believe so, yes.”
“Where is she?”
Andrew’s smile dimmed. “I don’t know. But if she was on the Asaka Express, there should be records of where she went from there. I did find out the chef onboard was going by the name Rachel Walters.”
“That last name can’t be a coincidence,” Paul said.
“I agree,” Andrew told his boss.
“Good. And find out who that asshole is with his arm around her shoulders. If we can find him, we might be able get more info, maybe even finally have some leverage to use against her.”
“Already on it, boss,” Andrew said. Then he nodded and turned and headed for the door.
Paul had already refocused on the video. He played it again. And again. Then he leaned back and sighed in relief as he stared at the slightly blurry screen shot he’d taken. He couldn’t tell at first glance if it was the woman he was looking for, but the height was about right, and the hair color. And the fact that she’d been working as a cook onboard the vessel.
He needed Elodie Winters dead. And no matter how long it took, it was gonna happen. No one in his family could know why she’d left. His eldest son wouldn’t be happy if he knew what he’d done, that he’d risked their entire organization by trying to involve the cook in family business.
Eventually, Jerry would take over the family, but not as long as Paul was alive and well. He’d not take his place until Paul said he could. And if his eager son found out about the loose end who could possibly put a large chink in the Columbus family armor, he’d use that to his advantage, try to kick Paul out.
He wasn’t having that. He was in charge, dammit, and as soon as he found and killed the bitch chef, he could relax and enjoy being the head honcho once more.
“You can run, but you can’t hide forever, Elodie,” Paul said. He leaned back in his chair and smiled for the first time in a very long while. “I’m gonna find you…and you’ll regret saying no to me,” he muttered.
Chapter Six
“It’s been two months, man, you’ve got to stop moping around and checking your phone every two seconds,” Slate told Mustang after their morning PT run. The first thing he’d done after they’d arrived back at their cars was check his phone.
Mustang sighed. “I know.” And he did. He’d hoped that Rachel would get in touch with him by now, but it was becoming obvious she had no plans to call or text.
“Sorry, man. I know you thought you two had connected,” Jag said.
“We did,” Mustang insisted. “Look, I know it sounds weird, but there was just something about her that intrigued me. We definitely connected.”
“It’s true,” Midas confirmed. “I mean, I liked Rachel, but those two were in tune with each other. It’s as if once she’d latched onto his belt loop, they became…one…or something. Sounds completely fucked up and corny, but it’s true.”
Mustang didn’t know if he should thank his friend or tell him to fuck off.
“You really think she’s in trouble?” Pid asked.
“I don’t know what to think,” Mustang admitted.