“It’s okay. Whatever you need. If it helps Anne, I’ll do whatever you need.”
“Would you like to see Lara now?” Jamie asks, then leads her to the bedroom where Moira and Lara are tucked away.
I’m sitting on the arm of Damien’s chair, my hand in his. But as soon as we hear the door closing, Damien stands up, releasing me. He turns to face me, his expression hard. “This time is for show,” he says. “It doesn’t happen again.”
I stare at him, uncomprehending, then look to Ryan and Dallas to see if they know what he’s talking about. From their expressions, it’s clear that they do.
I shake my head, my eyes moving among all of them. Quincy and Riley, too. Everyone, apparently, except me. “What the hell, Damien? What are you talking about?”
“Her. I don’t want her anywhere near our daughter.”
I gape at him, so shocked I slide off the chair and have to catch myself before I hit the floor. “Are you insane? She was kidnapped!”
He captures me with his eyes. “Was she? Or was she part of it?”
I open my mouth to protest, then close it again. I don’t want to believe it. I don’t want this tragedy to make me think the worst of people I’ve come to love.
But I trust Damien. I trust his instincts. Even if I desperately hope that he’s wrong.
“She stays,” Damien says. “But she stays in the guesthouse with a guard watching her twenty-four/seven.”
“And if she disagrees?” I ask.
“Then you have to let her walk,” Charles says from where he’d been silently taking in everything. “Otherwise it’s false imprisonment.” His eyes move among all of us. “You can’t kidnap someone just because you think they’re a kidnapper. If she says no, you either let her leave … or you involve the police. And neither option is ideal.”
21
“You don’t really think that?” We’re standing in the living area, and Bree’s voice rises to a frantic pitch as she clutches my hands and looks into my eyes. “I love those little girls. I haven’t—I didn’t—”
I press my lips together. I don’t want to believe it. I don’t. But Damien’s right. There’s a risk. And maybe there were even signs.
“I’m sorry,” I say, holding firm. “But you’ve been acting strange, Bree. I’ve noticed it for a few weeks.”
She shakes her head, her eyes wide, but she doesn’t say anything.
“I—I don’t want to believe it. But we can’t risk our daughter.” I draw a deep breath. “Damien and I stand together on this.”
“Acting strange.” She makes a scoffing noise. “Of course. Isn’t that just perfect?”
“What?”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m going to my cell.” She tilts her head, indicating Ryan’s team. “Who’s my babysitter?”
Michael, a lanky black guy with a serious expression and a sleeve of tats stands up. He doesn’t say a word, just waits for Bree to head toward the guest house.
She takes a few steps toward the stairs, then stops and turns back. “The irony is that I was acting weird because I love it here so much. I didn’t want to leave. But I didn’t know how to tell you guys that I wanted to stay instead of going to New York for grad school.” Tears stream down her cheeks. “Seemed wrong, somehow, since you guys were so supportive.”
I swallow. “Bree…”
“Yeah, well. Whatever.” She looks from Michael to Ryan. “Does the prisoner get to use her phone? Can I have guests? Like, can Rory come over? And do me the courtesy of telling me if there are cameras in my bedroom.”
“No cameras,” I say, then hope I’m not lying. “And you can have guests. You can leave the guest house for the grounds,” I add. “But you can’t say anything about the kidnapping. That could put Anne in danger.”
The fire fades from her eyes, and she nods. “Right. Of course.”
Throughout it all, Damien’s said nothing. He’s simply watched her from where he’s now sitting on the sofa. She meets his eyes, and I see her lips press tight together. I know him well enough to see the doubt on his face. But doubt isn’t enough to make him back off. Not with Anne’s safety on the line.
I doubt, too. But I stand with Damien, just like I told Bree.
“Briefing,” Ryan says, his attention on his team. “Everyone not reporting in, go take a ten minute break.”
The team scatters, with some leaving for the kitchen or bathrooms, and some coming to the living area where the rest of us are gathered.
Damien rises, then pulls me into his arms. He says nothing, but he holds me close, his arms tight around me, and I melt against him, needing his strength. Right now, though, he feels broken, too, and he clings to me the same way that I cling to him, each of us searching for strength in the other. And I’m afraid, so terribly afraid, that there’s not enough between us.
I try to focus on the voices as Quincy paces the room, running through what we know, who they’ve investigated, what they think. But it’s too much of a blur. Anne dominates my thoughts, terror cutting through me. Minutes are ticking away, we still haven’t had a ransom demand, my nanny may be involved, and I’m helpless. So goddamn helpless.
And Damien is helpless, too.
I’m sitting on the floor, my knees pulled up to my chest. He’s standing by the window, looking out at the ocean. He looks tall. Commanding. But it’s all an act. I know him too well. There’s defeat in his posture. And that terrifies me most of all.
“—with Jeremiah,” Charles says, yanking my attention back to the meeting. Jeremiah Stark is Damien and Jackson’s father. And I wouldn’t put it past him to kidnap his grandchild if he thought there was an upside for him.
Damien turns as well. “What did you say?”
“I said that Jeremiah’s had several surreptitious meetings with Richard Breckenridge. My people did some poking around, and it appears that he’s invested heavily with Breckenridge.”
Damien’s face hardens. “Before, you mean. Before Anne was taken?”
“Well before,” Charles says, his voice heavy with meaning. “And it was a significant investment.”
I’m not sure I understand, but I can see the news disturbs Damien, and I go to him, comforted when he pulls me close.
“So Jeremiah also lost a ton when The Domino fell through for Breckenridge,” Ryan says, nodding to himself. “They could be in it together, or either one of them could be acting on his own.”
“You really think that Breckenridge could be behind this?” I ask. “For a failed investment?”
Charles looks at Damien. “You didn’t tell her?”
I look between them, panic rising. “Tell me what?”
For a moment, there’s complete silence in the room. Then Damien shoves his hands into his pockets. He looks first at the floor, then at me. “Breckenridge told me he’d destroy me when I cut him out of The Domino. He said that he’d make sure I got knocked off my pedestal. That he’d hit me where it hurts.”
I open my mouth to speak, but it’s gone completely dry. I lick my lips and try again. “And you didn’t think to tell me that?” My voice sounds far away. Hollow.
“Nikki.” There’s a plea in his tone as he steps toward me. Broken, I think again. How can Damien be broken? “Nikki, please.”
I realize that I’ve taken a step backward, my head shaking from side to side. “All your talk about trust,” I say. “All your demands.” I wrap my arms around myself, thinking about Masque. About trusting him so wholly. So completely. And about him needing that same trust from me.
“How can you not have told me this? If not before, then after we found the notes on my car and graffiti on my walls? And Anne? Did you just not think about it after our daughter was taken? How the hell could you not tell me?”
I turn in a circle, feeling lost, my hands going into my hair, and I pull on it, as if I can tug the pain free. The loss.
“Nikki, please. I never thought—”
“Damn right,” I snap, then lift a hand. “Just stop. Just
stop.”
Across the room, Jamie’s phone rings, and all heads turn to her. She glances at the screen, then looks up at Ryan. “It’s Ollie,” she says. “Can I answer?”
Ryan nods. Jamie’s phone isn’t hooked into the network, so she’s the only one hearing the conversation. I wish it was on speaker. I want to hear him. I need him. Other than Damien, Jamie and Ollie are my rocks, and although we’ve drifted apart, now that his call has put him firmly in my mind, I realize how empty I feel without having him here to lean on.
“We can’t,” Jamie says. Her voice is tight, obviously on the verge of tears. “No—everything’s terrible. I’m—yes. I’m at Nikki’s. Can you come over?” She nods. “I’ll tell you when you get here. See you soon.”
She hangs up and looks at me. “Ollie just got to town. He’s at Upper Crust. He wanted us to meet him.”
I nod. He doesn’t know, of course. How could he since we’ve managed to keep it out of the press? And while I don’t want to relive everything that’s happened, at the same time, I want my friend beside me.
“You’ve been working him too hard,” Jamie says to Charles, who frowns.
“Ollie hasn’t worked for the firm in almost two months,” Charles tells her.