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I’ve been around long enough to know that I’m not invincible or infallible. I know my strengths, just as I know my weaknesses. While McGuire remains at large and out for my blood, I’m more capable of keeping Kat safe when she’s under my roof than when she is not. The man’s a wild card on his best days. And ever since Erin went missing, I seriously doubt he’s had many of those. For all his faults, it’s no secret to anybody that he’s a devoted father.
It’s just a matter of probabilities. If Kat’s here at home, where I know she’s safe and sound, then her chances of making it through this nightmare unharmed are virtually one hundred percent. Out there, I simply can’t guarantee these odds. There are too many variables. Faced with the choice between one hundred percent and anything less, I’m choosing the former every day of the week and twice on Sundays.
Unfortunately for Kat, who disagrees with my risk assessment, might makes right. At least in my world, which is where she is now. I tried to reason with her, to get her to see things my way. When that didn’t work out, I had to do what was necessary to protect her, as I warned her I would. Kat and I may have different definitions of keeping one’s word, but she must’ve realized that I don’t make idle threats. Today’s events, while unfortunate, shouldn’t have come as a surprise for her.
It all makes perfect logical sense. Still, I’m not naïve enough to mistake these dreadful physical sensations overtaking me for anything other than what they are—guilt and remorse.
At some point along the way, Kat’s pain became my pain. Her suffering became my undoing. The sight of her dark blues eyes—which often stared back at me with warmth and passion—wide with horror and despair left a scar in my soul. For the rest of my life, no matter how long that may be, I’ll never forgive myself for hurting her in the way that I did. My only hope is that, unlike myself, she might forgive me once this ordeal is over.
I’m startled by several loud, thundering voices outside my office. They yell frantically over each other in Russian before abruptly ceasing. Distracted from my anguished thoughts, I frown and listen carefully. That’s when I hear a couple of hushed whispers just outside my door.
With a resigned sigh, I brace myself, wondering what new devastating problem will be dropped on my plate now. If only a pakhan could afford the luxury of personal days…
I hear a hesitant knock, and, in Russian, I order the newcomer to enter. The door opens, and to my surprise, both Dmitri and Vladimir stand outside. Their faces are the perfect picture of impassive deference, which tells me something truly awful happened.
While taking a fortifying breath, I drop my weight on my chair, momentarily closing my eyes. “What is it now?” I ask.
The two men exchange an anxious glance.
“Nik—” Dmitri says before pausing, seemingly searching for the right words. “I need you to stay calm.”
Cold, slimy dread settles in the pit of my stomach. “Out with it, Dmitri,” I say impatiently. “I’m not in the mood for your games tonight.”
“Nik…” Dmitri says slowly, buying time. “It seems Kat’s gone.”
I stare at him in disbelief. “She’s what?!” I hear myself roar, feeling like I’m having an out-of-body experience. Intellectually, I understand the words must be coming out of my mouth, but it sure feels like I’m watching myself shout them from outside my body.
“Well, she’s gone, Nik. She has escaped. After finishing my rounds, I came back here to check on her and you because I heard about your fight. When I unlocked your bedroom door, she wasn’t there. Nobody saw her leave. She’s just gone. Pretty much without a trace.”
The only solid attachment I feel to my body is my heart, beating in my chest in an alarmingly vicious way I haven’t felt before. I can’t tell if it’s caused by adrenaline, cardiac arrest or a panic attack. Most likely a combination of all three.
“How can she have escaped? What kind of backyard operation am I running here that this woman can leave without any of my men noticing two fucking days in a row? Should I expect McGuire to greet me in my own fucking kitchen tomorrow? I’ll have your heads on a spike after I find her. Clearly, if I need something done around here, I have to do it myself.”
I know my words are harsh and I’m glad they are. I hope they sting. As a matter of fact, I hope the other dozen idiots scurrying outside my door hear me, too. Once I’m done finding Kat, I’ll take great pleasure in painstakingly dealing with every single one of the useless lot.
Through gritted teeth, I say, “Stop staring at me and get your worthless asses out there. I want the two of you to spread the word that every single man in my bratva will scour this city until we find her. No one will rest, stop, sleep, or eat until she’s found. I don’t want to see either of you until she is returned to me. And if any harm has been done to even one hair on her head, I will personally ensure that the same is done tenfold to every single man on watch today, including the two of you. No one has ever known pain like what I will unleash upon you if anything happens to her. Now get the fuck out of here.”
The first thing I do is try to track Kat’s phone. But it’s a waste of time. The tracker tells me it’s still at the penthouse, so she didn’t bring it with her when she left.
After grabbing my car keys, I race down the stairs to the garage, too impatient to bother with the elevator.
I consider calling her friend A.J. for a moment but ultimately decide not to bother. It’s extremely unlikely she’d share anything with me, and I don’t have time to waste forcing her to tell me all she knows.
So I roam the city, checking any place Kat could be. As I drive almost aimlessly, adrenaline is the only thing fueling me and keeping my fear and despair at bay. I don’t know what I’ll do if McGuire finds her before me.
As we learned from Connor, Patrick McGuire has eyes on the penthouse, dutifully observing everyone who comes and goes. My only hope is that he’ll contact me to ask for some sort of ransom—preferably not a demand for the return of his daughter in exchange for Kat. That would prove to be a problem, considering I didn’t abduct the girl. McGuire can have anything he wants as long as Kat remains unharmed.
My chances of finding Kat are very slim. I have no idea how long she’s been gone, and there’s no shortage of places where she could be hiding.
Why does she have to be stubbornly careless? Why can’t she understand I’m just trying to protect her as well as I can?
I knew I couldn’t trust her. From the start, I worried Kat would turn out to be unreliable and untrustworthy, someone who relents to every whim that strikes her fancy regardless of the consequences. She’s done nothing in the past forty-eight hours to prove me wrong.
After everything she and I have been through, how could Kat do this? Does she relish causing me pain? She must know by now how precious she is to me. The woman has me wrapped around her finger, and she isn’t afraid to wield her power, toying with me as she pleases. Why wouldn’t she, when she knows I’m utterly incapable of ever truly hurting her?
Hours pass, and I finally admit I’m wasting my time and energy. I need to focus and use my fucking brain. Kat is nothing if not clever, and I won’t find her by pointlessly roaming the city. I can only catch her if I’m smart about this. Besides, if McGuire has her and sends out a ransom demand, I must be available to receive it and promptly respond. So I drive home, struggling to concentrate on what needs to be done instead of letting my despair and sense of defeat distract me.
I ride by myself in the elevator to the penthouse. Once the doors slide open, I’m met by darkness and deafening silence. No one’s back. Kat hasn’t been found. My phone didn’t ring. There are no promising leads. No good news.
