I’m fucking done.
I go back down the stairs, across the foyer, and out the front door. Slipping back into my car, I start it and focus my mind on the only place it’s seemed to be the past few days.
Arloe.
I want to see her. No, I need to see her.
I whip my Bugatti in front of her building and hop out before I fully shift into park. An anxious energy washes over me as need and desire to be where she is takes control. I’ve never felt like this before, hell, I’ve never been allowed to.
I’ve made mistakes, followed my father’s orders to a T, and before now, I didn’t question him. She’s changing me; her infectious personality is the contrast I need from a world of death and destruction.
I hit the button on the elevator, almost ready to curse it for taking so long, but it dings and opens up. Stepping inside, I check my watch then glance at my phone. I find it odd that my dad hasn’t tried to reach out. It’s been less than an hour, but he hates losing control almost as much as I do. I assumed he would be calling, or even have a sibling call to do his groveling for him, but everything has been quiet. Too fucking quiet.
The doors open on Arloe’s floor, and I squeeze out of it, not wasting time waiting for it to open completely. I need her right now. Her touch. Her smell. Her taste. I need to be consumed by her and let go.
When I stop in front of her apartment, I knock, glancing down while I wait to be let in. I kick the corner of her welcome mat, letting the skewed corner fall back to where it belongs. At first, I think nothing of it. A kicked-up corner is insignificant. But as more time passes and she doesn’t answer, fear builds in my stomach, snaking its way to my chest.
“Arloe,” I shout, knocking again softly.
I press my ear to the door and see if I can hear anything. Maybe she is in there and last night was just too much. She’s changed her mind and can’t handle me for all I am. But those thoughts are quickly erased when silence falls on the other side of the door.
I try the knob, but it doesn’t turn, so I take a step back, check both sides of the hall to make sure I’m alone, then kick it in. A crack sounds out when the door is forced open, and small wooden chips fly from the frame.
Straightening my suit jacket, I move inside quickly and inspect her place. Everything seems normal, but when I look at the counter, I see her phone. I search for a purse but can’t find one. So maybe she had someone else pick her up and she just forgot her phone. Maybe I’m thinking too far into this.
I step into the hall, close her door the best I can then ride the elevator down again and slip back into my car. Luckily, the bookstore isn’t far from her place, so within minutes, I’m pulling behind where she left her car parked last night.
I see the other girl who works there peek out the window, smiling as I turn my car off, and it gives me hope I was right. I’m simply overthinking and worrying about nothing.
Hitting the button on my key fob, I lock my doors then stroll through the door of the bookstore. Greer, I think her name is, is already waiting at the counter for me with a smile.
“What brings you in today?”
I raise a brow. “Arloe. Where is she?”
Her smile falls the tiniest bit as her head tips to the side. “She’s off today. I assumed she was with you until I didn’t see her get out.” She points in the direction I parked.
“So she hasn’t been in today at all?”
She shakes her head. “But because she is off, I’m not surprised. Try back tomorrow morning. We have some inventory to do, so she may even be in a little sooner.”
I nod and thank her then leave the same way I came in. As soon as I’m on the sidewalk, heading toward my own store, I dig the cell from my pocket and dial my dad’s number.
The line rings a few times before he finally answers. “Easton,” he greets.
“Where is she?” I try to keep my voice level and calm.
“I’m not sure who she is so I can’t help you.” I can almost hear the smile in his voice.
My hand tightens around my device as I press it harder into my ear. “I’m not fucking around, Dad. You either tell me or I come find her myself, which we both know won’t be pretty.”
He’s a fool to think I don’t know him better. He takes what we want and makes it his until we behave, and frankly, that’s not a game I’m interested in playing right now. I mean, I should have known there would be some repercussions to my actions from earlier, but this is too fucking far.
He remains silent, and it does nothing but fuel my anger.
“I’m not stupid. You did this with Ken when she wanted to act out, so tell me where Arloe is or I promise you I will come to your house when you’re not expecting it and snap the neck of your precious little ball sac of a cat.”
“Resulting to threats now?” he finally speaks.
“It’s not a fucking threat. You took something I loved, and in return, I’ll take something you love.”
He laughs. “Now you love the girl?”
“Where. Is. She.”
“I’m not sure what else you expect me to say. I don’t have her. The whore is useless to me, son.”
I open my mouth to spit back. How dare he talk about my woman like that. He has no fucking right. But just as soon as the words start to slip, a man lingering in front of my shop turns around.
I end the call with my dad and stuff the phone back in my pocket before hurrying to where he stands. “What the fuck are you doing here, Barron?”
Normally, I never see anyone I persuade unless I make it happen. Him being here is a complication. A curveball. And I don’t like it.
His eyes shoot to mine, and instead of fear, his features scream reluctance.
“Speak the fuck up. I’m not in the mood.”
He sucks in a breath then glances around, making sure no passerby is within earshot. “I messed up. They took my daughter.”
Chapter Seventeen
Arloe
“Just tie her to the fucking chair,” one of my captors directs to the other. His voice is deep and growl-like, every syllable that falls from his lips vibrating through me.
As I’m yanked further into the space and forced into a seat, I fidget to get free. My nerves are all over the place, I can’t hear anything other than their ragged breaths, and have no idea where I am or what they want from me. One of the men tugs my arms behind me and aggressively binds my hands.
The irony of this position hits me hard. It was only a few hours ago that I came with my hands behind my back. Now all I feel is fear. The chair is hard and cold and feels like metal to my touch.
“W-where am I? What do you want?” I manage to get out around my frenzied nerves.
Everything happened so fast. One minute I was arguing with my dad, and the next I was staring down the barrel of a gun. Two men stood in front of me, the last imagery I have before they blindfolded me. So I recall their appearance over and over in my mind. It’ll be the only leverage I’ll have should I get out of this mess.
One is tall and fit with a bald head. On his left cheek is a scar that looks just as old as he does. The other is shorter, stocky, and wears his low-cut fade in the ugliest shade of orange. He didn’t have any imperfections that I could see aside from his hair. Different in stature but equally scary.