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I sigh, finishing my dinner—and more than half the bottle of wine—in the peace and quiet. When I’m finished, I take the half-empty bottle into my room with me, turn on Netflix, drink more wine, and promptly pass out.
CHAPTERFIVE
EZRA
“Where is she?”I growl as I enter the meeting room. The matte black table is lined with eleven of the most ruthless, most cutthroat men in this business, and they all work for me.
“She’s been right under our fucking noses,” Lee says from the television screen on the opposite side of the room. He’s sitting on the edge of his hotel bed with his elbows propped on his knees, holding his pocket knife, looking casual as always.
I take my seat at the head of the table, but I can’t relax. My back is stiff and straight as he and I look at each other. “Where is she?” I demand again. If I have to ask one more time, I might actually kill someone.
Lee fiddles with his knife—one of many. “Oakwood, Virginia,” he says with a self-satisfied smirk.
Bastard.
He was right. He kept saying she might be there, but I thought she couldn’t possibly be stupid enough to move thirty minutes away from where I last found her. All this time, she was right in my grasp, and I just let her slip away.
She’s not stupid. She’s fucking brilliant.
And I should haveknown.
I exhale heavily, leaning back in my chair and pinching the bridge of my nose. “And her job?”
“Some shitty daycare,” he informs me.
Of course. She loves children, so I’m not surprised that she’s still working with them. But she’s always hated childcare. I remember the days when she’d come trudging into The Fortress, tired and aching after a long day. She’d tell me all about the kids in her class, and damn, the gleam in her eyes made me ache to have my own kids with her.
That’s what I wanted—to make her my wife, for her to bear my children. To start the happy family I was deprived of.
I wanted everything with her, and she left me.
“I did some digging and found out she’s living under a fake name: Jasmine Lewis. She also works at a bookstore part-time.”
Lee then looks to Benji—one of my many trusted soldiers—at my side and instructs him to hand me the filing folder he’s holding. Benji drops it on the table and takes a step back. I look at Lee.
“What is it?”
“Open it.” He nods at the folder, still flicking that pocket knife.
I look at him, then at the folder, before opening it.
Inside are dozens of pictures of Maya, my beautiful sunflower. I bite my tongue to contain the emotion rising inside me. I’ll be damned if I let any of these motherfuckers see me cry.
But there she is, leaving her job in a skimpy tank top and shorts, going for a run. Another picture shows her entering a grocery store, and another shows her entering what I assume is her apartment.
“She was attacked,” Lee says simply, almost as an afterthought.
I snap my head up so hard I almost break my neck. “What?Why am I just now hearing about this? Dammit, Lee, you should have started with that!”
“Calm down, brother. I intervened before the piece of shit did any real damage.”
Real damage. The damage has already been done. She’s probably so scared, traumatized, even. She needs me right now.
“You took these today?” I already know the answer, but I need to confirm that these aren’t from a month ago.
“Jay and I both took them. But yeah, they’re from today.”
“Where the hell is he, anyway?”
