Page 18 of Tell Me You Need Me

“All I have is her first name,” he admits. A muscle ticks at his temple. “Lana. No last name, no forwarding address, no phone number, and her last known address doesn’t leave me shit to go on. A pay-by-the-month type place. The Sphere does have high-definition security cameras covering every square inch of the main floor and private exits.”

“You’re telling me a waitress completely erased herself overnight after one night with you?” Rafe leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his expression turning serious. His military background comes out, and I have to say there’s more to this situation than meets the eyes.

“And I can’t get her out of my fucking head,” Max grunts, his knuckles turning white against his glass. “I’ve searched every database I have access to. Nothing. I’m literally fucked for her, and I need to find her.”

Silence settles over the office for a long moment. We all look at Max, seeing pieces of ourselves and what he’s going through along with the frustration rolling off his shoulders. It’s the exact same unhinged edge I had in my chest when I realized I couldn’t live without Mischa.

“I know somebody,” Dante says after taking a slow, calculated step forward, the sharp smirk returning to his face. “A digital investigator out of London. He doesn’t exist on any corporate payroll, he doesn’t answer to federal subpoenas, and if a person breathes oxygen on this planet, he can track their facial geometry through a satellite feed in twenty minutes.”

“Get him on the phone.” Max snaps his head up, eyes flashing with something akin to hope.

“Hold your horses, Romanoff.” Dante chuckles dryly, taking a sip of his drink. A nostalgic gleam enters his eyes. A smirk touches his lips as if he’s remembering the hoops he had to jump through when he was desperately hunting down Alexandria. “A guy like this doesn’t work for chump change. And he certainly doesn’t pull high-end surveillance footage off private servers for free. It’s going to cost you, Maxim. A whole fucking lot.”

“How much?” Max demands with zero hesitation.

“Two hundred and fifty thousand to start. Up front. Untraceable wire.” Dante looks him dead in the eye, tossing out a number without blinking.

“Quarter of a mil for a waitress’ last name? That’s steep even for me.” Gavin whistles through his teeth.

“Says the man who paid how much for a date with Gennie?” I toss out.

“Touché,” he responds with a lift of his glass.

“Quality costs. Especially when you’re asking a man to hack private security grids for a woman who clearly doesn’t want to be found,” Dante replies smoothly.

“Okay.” Max doesn’t hesitate for a single fraction of a second. He doesn’t blink, he doesn’t check his bank balance, and he certainly doesn’t argue the price. “I don’t care. I’ll pay it. I’ll wire him the money right now. Just find her,” he growls, his voice rising throughout the office.

“Well, shit. This is going to be fun.” Dom lets out an appreciative laugh.

“Time to find your girl.” I look at Maxim, seeing the ruthless fire-burning-in-your-gut side of him, and I recognize it completely. He’s gone. The same as everyone in this room is gone for their woman. I clap a heavy hand on his shoulder, lift my glass in the air, and we make one last toast, this one for the last man standing.

epilogue

MISCHA

One Month Later

The rise and fall of Nolan’s chest under my cheek is attempting to lull me to sleep, it’s only my wild thoughts that keep me from drifting. It’s been a month since he dropped to one knee in his office, and my life has been a whirlwind ever since. Wedding planners, gown fittings, and nights filled with burning, consume-you intensity.

I’m lying naked on top of him, the cool sheets slipping down my waist to pool uselessly around my hips. Our skin is slick and flushed, the air thick with the scent of sex and the unmistakable lingering heat of our last round of lovemaking. My muscles feel like liquid, and every nerve ending is humming in a quiet, satisfied vibration.

Nolan’s large, warm hand moves in long, soothing strokes up and down the curve of my back, his thumb sketching lazy circles near the base of my spine. His other hand is buried deep in my damp hair, and his fingers massage my scalp so soothingly it makes me want to purr like a kitten.

“You’re breathing normally again,” Nolan rasps against the crown of my head. “For a minute there, I thought I’d fucked you to death, trouble.” I let out a breathy chuckle, shifting slightly so my chin rests on his broad, muscular sternum. I look into his dark, hooded eyes, watching the warmth shining back at me.

“You came close,” I murmur, tracing a nail lightly across his collarbone, following the dark hair down to his flat stomach. “Very close. My legs still feel like jelly.”

“Good.” He grins. A deep, satisfied rumble shivers straight through me. His fingers tighten slightly in my hair. “That’s exactly how they’re supposed to feel when I’m done with you.” I smile, but still, there’s a familiar knot of anxiety in the pit of my stomach. I press my cheek back down against his skin, listening to the steady beating of his heart.

“Nolan?” I ask softly.

“Hmm?”

“Is Maxim any closer to finding his mysterious woman?” His hand pauses for a moment on my back before resuming its steady stroke-by-stroke path down my skin. I feel the subtle shift in him as he exhales slowly.

“Why are you thinking about your brother when you’re lying naked on top of me?” he asks, a faint touch of husky dry humor in his tone.

“Because I’m worried about him,” I admit, cuddling deeper into him. “He’s at work long before I log in, and he’s always locked away in his office long after everyone else goes home. He’s working longer hours than he ever has, keeping himself isolated. He barely eats with us and is running himself into the ground. It’s worrying me more by the day.” I pause, letting out a sigh as my mind races toward the calendar.