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“No,” he said, unable to form any other words. Where was his wife?
“OMG,” Sierra squealed, clapping a palm against her forehead. “What has that crazy idiot done to her now?”
Her words mirrored his thoughts. “Come on, let’s get home and see if Max can track his phone. We’ll find her.”
“I can’t believe him. I can’t believe he did this…again. Daddy, if you don’t kill him this time, I will.”
“Okay, Sierra,” he said, trying to temper her volatile emotions. “Let’s just get home, find Julia and worry about all of that later, okay?”
His focus on his daughter was the only thing helping him hold his own emotions together.
“Mr. Harrington, did you want to stop by and pick up your car from where you left it earlier?”
Grant shook his head as he threaded an arm around Sierra’s shoulders. “No. Let’s just get back to the house. We’ll worry about the car later.”
“Sure thing, sir. I’ll bring the car around.”
After a tense journey home that dragged on endlessly, Grant sat in the dimly lit atmosphere of his home office. Shadows danced across his face as he fixed his stern gaze on his head of security. The room, typically a haven of solace and order, now felt like a chamber of brewing storms. Max's words did little to calm him.
“He made a call from the hospital before he turned his phone off. We have no idea where he is right now. We’re trolling security footage to see if we can find his vehicle on any cameras, see if Mrs. Harrington is with him, and what direction they were heading.”
Grant’s fist slammed down hard on the desk, his sharp voice, laced with desperation and urgency, cutting through the tense silence. “That’s not good enough.”
“I’m sorry, sir, that’s all–“
“Don’t make excuses. Find her.”
“We’re on it, sir,” Max said with a bob of his head before he scurried from the room.
Grant picked up the bourbon he’d poured earlier and sipped it, resisting the urge to throw the glass across the room. How could he have let her go? The thought gnawed at him, a relentless whisper of self-reproach. In his quest to respect her independence, had he inadvertently exposed her to danger?
Even more disappointing was his son, Kyle. They’d argued earlier. He’d admitted his feelings for Julia. Was this a reaction to that conversation?
He drummed his fingers against the mahogany wood as he waited for any word. Light began to creep over the horizon. It had been hours since he’d seen her last. Every moment that slipped by potentially put more and more distance between them.
He had to find her.
A knock pulled him from his thoughts. “Come in!”
He expected Max or possibly Worthington, but the whiff of perfume made his stomach turn. He twisted to find Lydia stalking into the room with a cat-who-caught-the-canary grin tugging at her lips. “Good morning, Grant.”
“What do you want, Lydia? I’m busy.”
“Busy? At this hour?”
He wasn’t in the mood to play her games. “Yes, now get out.”
“You don’t look busy.”
“Well, I am.”
“Let me guess…are you busy…trying to find Bambi?”
He eyed his wife, suddenly wondering if he’d misplaced the blame for her disappearance. The threatening note he’d found on Christopher Metcalfe’s body danced through his mind. Had Lydia taken her?
“I think I can help with that. Along with a few other things. Such as…who is behind DG Industries.”
His stomach clenched at the words. What kind of game was his ex-wife playing?
