Fake Daddy To Be
“Go,” Channing directs the driver, slamming the door shut. His voice is cold, commanding, and incredibly pissed off.
The chauffeur immediately starts the car and we zoom down the road, heading in the opposite direction of the bus. I can feel the heat of Channing’s anger filling the vehicle, and the air is heavy with tension. But the CEO doesn’t say anything. He won’t even look at me. He merely sits, utterly still, staring straight ahead. Oh god, what’s next? What’s going to happen to me and my baby?
9
Channing
* * *
Twenty minutes earlier.
Jolene has been missing for almost forty-eight hours now, and though we’ve finally got a lead on where she is, I keep thinking about my father. The sound of the helicopter blades is deafening even through the noise-canceling headset, but my thoughts are in turmoil. My father had everything a man could want: a beautiful wife, adorable children, and more money than he could ever need. But I see him as a failure because he didn’t understand the value of what he had.
After all, my father and I never spent time together, and so we were basically strangers. Sure, we lived in the same apartment, but he didn’t pay attention to me. It wasn’t much better for Laurelin or my mom either. We were just the trappings of success, and what people expect a wealthy, successful man to possess. But to get to really know us? That was too much for Patrick. As a result, I wake up every day vowing that I will never be like him; that I will be able to see the value in my family, and to cherish them as my father never did.
“There she is,” the pilot’s voice crackles through my headset. I look out the window and see the bus. It’s barreling full speed down the highway, just like the bus in the movie Speed. “What do you want me to do, boss?”
“Take us down over them,” I say. “Make them pull over.”
“You got it.” The pilot gives me a thumbs up, hovers for a moment longer, and then lands the damn bird in the middle of the highway. The bus comes to a grinding halt, a look of horror in the driver’s eyes. Tough shit. He has my precious cargo on board, and I’m going to retrieve it.
Within a few minutes, I have the curvy, recalcitrant Jolene in a black car, speeding to the nearest hotel. I didn’t just call in the Blackhawk; I also summoned an entire entourage, including police cruisers, men on motorcycles, and even a tank on standby in case we need it. But now, I have the curvy girl in my grasp, and hustle her into a plush suite at the Ritz.
“Why?” the question grinds out from between my teeth. “Why did you leave me?” To say that I’m out of my mind with fury would be an understatement. I have Jolene back, but I can hardly bear to look at her without losing control. I want to hold her close to me almost as much as I want to shake her and demand answers.
Finally, she shoots me a glance. Her face is pale and her eyes shimmery with tears, but she looks away, turning her head towards the wall. Alright. Fine. I’ll try rephrasing the question.
“Why didn’t you come home? Why did you take off without a word?”
Her chin jerks my way.
“Home? Is that what you call it?”
I shake my head, confused.
“Of course it’s home. My home is your home, Jolene. Just like my bed is your bed.”
She closes her eyes, her expression pained.
“I…” She stops, then shakes her head. “Channing, what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be meeting with the Writers Guild right now. Or did that finish?”
I stare at her.
“Jolene, if you think I could listen to a bunch of creative types argue over a script when you’re trying to go on some solo adventure, you don’t know me.”
She winces and then sighs heavily, looking down. The curvy girl is ungodly beautiful, even if she looks exhausted and pale with circles beneath her eyes. “How did you find me, Chan?”
I run a hand through my hair and take a deep breath. I’m the one that’s supposed to be asking the questions, but fine, I’ll do this her way for now. “Jolene, when you didn’t come home, I tried calling you. Several times. Every call I made went straight to voicemail, but I’m sure you know that. Was your phone off?”
She looks away.
“After that, I went by your apartment and spoke with your roommate.”
Her eyebrows raise and her eyes meet mine with surprise. “You talked to Ava?”
I spread my hands in the universal gesture that says, “You gave me no choice.”
“What did she tell you?” Jo demands, two spots of pink appearing on her cheeks.