Page 13 of Dancing With Redemption

“I’m not smothering her. I’m trying to keep her alive. I’ll see you later.” Lincoln ended the call just as the light changed. The tires spun a little on the asphalt when he gunned the engine, but he didn’t care. If the police wanted to give him a ticket, they’d have to do it from the air. Nobody was stopping him from getting on that plane.

The plane was delayed because of a storm, which did little to ease Lincoln’s anger or helplessness. He hated feeling that way, but he’d accepted it, for now. There was nothing he could do bar having someone bring him his car and drive to New York. That would take even longer than the delays were taking, though, so there was no sense in doing that.

He’d had a lot of time to think, sitting and waiting for answers, and he knew he’d been stupid. Yeah, he had a right to be angry about Roxie keeping Lily from him all this time, but that was shit he’d have to deal with. She’d done the best she could in the situation she’d been put in. She hadn’t asked for her parents to be killed, to lose her home, or to end up with a baby the first time she’d had sex at eighteen.

He had to give her some credit, actually, for having Lily and keeping her out of the world’s lens for so long. He’d had no idea the little girl had existed at all, yet, there she was, full of life, love, and laughter. His daughter.

She was a beautiful girl, and he’d never known he could love someone he barely knew so much, but there he was, sitting in an airport, with misty eyes as he thought about his daughter and her mother. He hadn’t wanted a wife, or even a girlfriend, although he had wanted children. His mother had poisoned the well, so to speak, with her serial weddings.

Lincoln had come to wonder if the woman loved the thrill and romance of weddings more than the actual marriage over time, and that had colored his perspective on women and their ability to stay in a relationship. Sure, there were other people he knew who’d been married for decades, but he couldn’t shake the idea that he never wanted to get married himself.

Until Roxie came back into his life.

He’d almost bought her an engagement ring when they visited Tiffany’s that day. He’d nearly proposed to her then. But, if he had, he’d have regretted it, he could see that now. There had still been secrets between them then. There may be more, but he had a feeling now he knew everything there was to know about Roxie.

He respected her need to have things unplugged around her when she left a house. He knew she hated goat’s cheese but loved every other variety of cheese out there. He knew she’d tried her best to raise her daughter without bringing shame or dishonor to the girl. He also knew she loved deeply and wholeheartedly when it mattered.

He’d seen her with her friends, with his friends, how she treated everyone with respect, right down to the waitstaff in restaurants. And when he’d seen her with Lily? He’d suspected she may never love anyone as much as she loved their daughter. Which was fine, because a child deserved all of its parent’s love.

Which was another reason he knew she hadn’t run away from Lily. She’d gone to New York looking for answers to the questions that plagued her in the dark hours, in the quiet moments at work, when she had time to think the thoughts that made her eyes go dark with sadness.

But there were people in New York who were probably still looking for her. A group of people that would stop at nothing to destroy her. Why, he had no clue, but that group of people was ruthless, cruel, and more dangerous than any other opponent Lincoln had ever had to deal with. He wasn’t afraid of them, but he also wasn’t stupid. He knew taking them on, confronting them, wasn’t the way to go. He’d only get his head blown off, without a blink of an eye.

No, he’d have to do this with caution, if they hadn’t taken her already. And if they had, well, he’d do whatever it took to get her back.

The plane was delayed another fifteen minutes and Lincoln finally couldn’t stand it anymore. He paced the floor as he called June yet again.

“Hello?” She said when she answered the call.

“Have you found her yet?” He demanded, not having the patience for polite greetings.

“No, Lincoln. I had rounds, then an emergency with a new patient. I’m not sure why you’re so freaked out. I’m sure she’s fine.”

“Are you done for the day now?” Lincoln had crammed his fingertips into the spot over the bridge of his nose, trying to ease the headache pounding to life behind his eyes.

“Yes, but I still don’t know what has you so worked up.” June was probably rolling her eyes. Lincoln could almost hear it over the phone, she sounded so impatient, but he didn’t give a fuck what she thought.

“I don’t have time for this right now. I need you to go and find her. Take her to your apartment. Don’t let her leave until I get there, understand me?” He paused, waiting for her answer.

“I guess. Damn, big brother, you could ask nicely, you know?” June spoke testily, her own ire rising.

Good, she might take him seriously now. “I could, sure. But you’d still be sitting on your ass, twiddling your thumbs if I didn’t light a fire under it. Now get out there and find Roxie. I’m getting on a plane.” Lincoln had heard the boarding call while he spoke to his sister and wasn’t about to cause another delay. He grabbed his suitcase and started to walk quickly to the line.

“See you soon then. Safe journey,” June said without any sarcasm at all. She’d already forgiven him.

“See you soon. Go find Roxie.” He hung up the phone and handed over his boarding pass to the agent with her hand out. She scanned the pass and wished Lincoln a pleasant journey. He smiled back, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

The flight soon took off without a hitch. Lincoln worked on a few items in his email that couldn’t wait before he settled into his seat and tried to relax. His thoughts spun around in his head though, making it hard to do anything except tap his fingertips against the hard plastic of the chair he occupied.

“Drink, sir?” A male voice asked, and Lincoln looked up to see the flight attendant with a cart in front of him.

“Scotch, please,” Lincoln said, watching as it was poured. “Thanks.”

“Anything else?” The blond man asked with a smile that was pleasant, if not quite real.

“I’ll take a coffee, too, thanks.” Lincoln took the coffee, packets of sugar, and small tub of creamer the man gave him. He wasn’t really interested in the coffee, but he didn’t want to drink the scotch on its own. He’d need to wash it down with something.

The plane would land soon, and he’d need to be on his toes from that moment on. Instinct told him that something was wrong. He’d learned to trust that instinct a long time ago.