I don’t need rest anymore. I’m going straight to Morose. But first, I make a phone call. I use the search bar on the phone until I locate a contact number for the Times.

“Hello?”

“Hi. I just listened to your broadcast with Harper Lake.” My heart pounds, the palms of my hands sweaty.

“Yes, sir? How may I direct your call?”

“I’m him. I’m the man. My name is Cy Kaufman.”

Intensely professional, the woman on the phone treats me like she’d treat anyone else. It’s weirdly comforting to be treated like everyone else. “Just a minute, sir.” And she puts me on hold. She puts me on fucking hold. What hell is this?

A few minutes later, she comes back. “Sir, please leave me a number where you can be reached?”

“Put me on the phone with Harper,” I say through clenched teeth. Motherfucker.

“Sir,” the woman says with patience. “You’re the tenth man calling claiming to have information on Cy Kaufman. We have to go through a screening process, and we—”

Is she fucking kidding me?

“I didn’t say I have information regarding him,” I grit out. “I said I am Cy.”

“I’ll have to take your number and call you back.”

I can’t give her a stolen number. “Nah, I’ll call you.”

I hang up the phone, cursing, and pinch the bridge of my nose. Who to call? How will I get her?

Now that the word is out, Harper is in danger, and so am I.

I’m going to Morose.

I looked up his work address as well as his home address. I’m not sure what I’ll face next, but I don’t care. I’ll take this man down. I’ll get to the bottom of this. Harper isn’t safe until I do.

I drive on fumes, my eyes painfully dry from having been awake so long, but I don’t care. I’m hours away from Morose’s home, but I decide to go to his office first. It’s daylight, and he’ll probably be scrambling, trying to fix the complication Harper caused by going public.

Who is he? What will I do when I find him?

How will I find Harper?

There’s GPS on this phone, and I manage to figure it out by accident. I hit a button and a voice says to me, “where do you need to go?”

Goddamn it, these phones are smart now. Questioningly, not so sure if I’m crazy or if this is real, I hit the button at the bottom of the phone.

I say his address out loud, and I’m pleased to see I’m only an hour away. What will I do when I get there? I shake my head, as if I’m having a conversation with myself.

Did I go crazy on that island?

I don’t know what I’ll do. I have to get there first. I weave in and out of traffic, constantly checking the rearview mirrors. If I get pulled over by the police now, everything goes to hell. I can’t get apprehended. Morose is wealthy enough to ruin my life. Christ, he already has.

But he won’t take Harper from me.

He fucking won’t.

I pull into another rest stop and switch out cars again, aware of the fact that I’ve left a wake of stolen vehicles behind me. I hope no one’s fucking following this trail.

But this time, when I pull back onto the highway, the GPS now showing only thirty minutes out to get to Morose’s office, the phone rings. I stare at it for a moment, not sure what the sound is. Still speeding down the highway, I reach for it and hit the huge green button that says answer.

“Hello?”

“Cy.” One word. Two letters. One syllable. And my whole fucking world comes crashing to a halt. I open my mouth but can’t seem to make my voice work at first.

“Cy? Hello? Is it you?”

Her voice is as clear and magical as church bells, tearing me from the torment I’ve held myself in since I found myself apart from her. I was dead and now I live, at the sound of her voice.

“Harper. Baby.” My voice is cracked and broken.

“Oh, God, Cy. I love you. I love you,” she repeats. “They’re recording this,” she says, and I can hear tears in her voice. “Oh, God, you’re alive.”

“Are you okay? Did they hurt you? Where are you, baby? And who’s recording this?”

“The paper. But don’t worry. I allowed it. They’re going to run a story, and I want to use everything we have to bring the men responsible for all of this down. I won’t allow them to air anything without our approval. I’m not in the office, but remotely allowing access to our call.”

I don’t know exactly what she’s talking about, but I trust her. I have to. She continues, answering my questions.

“I’m okay. They didn’t hurt me. I’m not going to say where I am on the phone, but I’m safe. I’ll call you on a separate line and tell you.”

Tags: Jane Henry Savage Island Erotic
Source: readsnovelonline.net