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“I see. As long as we can get Olivia out safely, I have no problem.”
“There won’t be any problems.”
I give them a tight smile. “Thank you.”
They didn’t say anything to me for the rest of the drive, which suited me just fine. I was lost in my thoughts. What would Olivia look like? Would she look like Cassie had when she was sick?
We arrive at a nondescript red-brick apartment complex, and the two large men get out before I do. We head into the building with them in front of me. The front desk attendant nods at them as they walk to the elevator. I find the reaction peculiar but assume that Jordan has some pull in this town since he’s a big player in the real estate scene.
The ride to the sixth floor and a short walk to the apartment are excruciating because I have no idea what I’m going to be walking into. My stomach is tight, and I feel the same anxiety I did when I found out my wife was sick. The two men, who I’ve decided to call Boris and Ivan, pound on the door. From inside, we can hear yelling, and a few seconds later, the door is yanked open by a shirtless Joshua. Boris shoves him aside, and he begins screaming.
“Who the fuck are you?! You can’t just barge in here!”
I step in behind them and find two t-shirted men sitting on a beat-up plaid couch with game controllers in their hands. There are several beer bottles on the coffee table, along with an ashtray holding smoking cigarettes. Olivia is standing in the corner dressed in a long pink terry bathrobe. She’s looking at me in shock.
“Lucian, what are you doing here?” she says, with a look of relief on her face.
“We’re taking you home.”
“You can’t just come in here at this hour, you fucking assholes! I should have known this bitch would cry to you,” Joshua snarks.
Before Boris or Ivan can stop me, I haul off and punch Joshua in the jaw, followed by another square to his face. His nose starts to bleed, and Boris steps in front of me before Joshua can retaliate.
“Olivia, get dressed,” I order through a huff.
“Where are we going?”
“Home,” I say. “Do you have any garbage bags?”
“For what?”
“Your clothing. We can sort it out when we get to the loft. We’ll need to come back for your personal items another time.”
“She doesn’t have shit here. It’s all my stuff,” Joshua growls.
“Is that true?”
“My things are in storage in New York.”
“Then, let’s pack what you did bring.”
Joshua struggles against Boris until his arm is twisted behind his back. Ivan tells him to sit on the couch before he gets hurt. The two men who look very much like Joshua don’t make a move as Boris deposits him near them.
I take Olivia by the shoulders and focus on her eyes. They’re dull, not the bright green that I remember. I can feel her bones through the bulky robe, and I wonder how much weight she lost. Her jawline has gotten sharper, and her cheekbones are protruding.
“Garbage bags?” I repeat.
“In the cabinet over there.” She points to a bottom cabinet next to the stove, and I retrieve the box. Then I take her by her elbow and lead her down a short hallway to the bedroom. She sits on the bed and stares at the floor.
“Sweetheart, get dressed,” I say softly.
“How are you here?”
“Jordan. His private plane is waiting at Midway. I couldn’t wait until tomorrow. I tried calling again, and that asshole was so cruel, the things he said about you. He told me you broke up, and he wanted you out. He said you were lazy.”
I shove anything I can find from her closet into several bags. I want to get out of here as soon as we can before I lose it and kill Joshua. From the next room, I can hear him whining about how I broke his nose.
“I couldn’t do anything to keep him happy,” Olivia says listlessly. “I tried.”
