Two Together (Naked Trilogy 3)

“Okay. Good. Really good. I need to see him. And, just tell him—”

“I will. Where are you?”

“I can’t walk into my brother’s office with Jax or Walker Security. He won’t talk freely.”

“And you think he’s really going to talk at all?”

“There’s more of a chance with me alone than otherwise,” I argue. “I’ll record him like I did York.”

“Just let us get eyes on you. No one will know we’re there.”

“Fine,” I say, considering the fact that I’m dizzy and queasy, and I don’t think I’ve eaten in a very long time. I need food. I have to eat, or I’m going to pass out. That’s not a condition to be in while confronting your good-for-nothing brother who might have killed the brother you didn’t even really know. I spy a street sign and give Smith my cross streets. I also spy a street vendor. “I’m going to get some nuts and some water. How soon can your man be here?”

“Before you finish the nuts and water, I already sent him in your direction. I’ll text you when he has eyes on you.”

“Thank you, Smith.”

“Just stay alert.”

“I am. Or I will be after I eat.”

We disconnect, and I hurry to the street vendor and buy a bag of nuts and some water. I then lean on a building wall and stuff them down so fast I’m not sure they’re digestible. Water guzzling follows. Great. Now I need to pee. My dramatic confrontation is going like crap. I walk to the McDonald’s I spy across the street and go to the bathroom. I’m just stepping onto the street when Smith calls yet again.

“Where the hell are you?”

“McDonald’s. I had to pee.”

“Stay there,” he all but growls.

“I’m stepping out front now,” I say, “and it’s only now, feeling steadier on my feet, that I realize it’s cold and overcast.

“Hold on,” Smith says, and there’s silence on the line for about twenty seconds. “Okay, he’s got eyes on you. I’d prefer you wait for Jax and talk to him before you do what you’re about to do, but I know I can’t stop you.”

“Especially not now that I ate. I’m feeling better.”

“Be careful, Emma.”

“He’s my brother, Smith. He’s not going to hurt me.”

“Don’t be flippant Emma or I swear—”

“I’m not. I’ll be careful.” I hang up and start walking, replaying the events of last night, trying to remember anything that tells me who did this. Obviously, my brother and Randall didn’t get into the castle. They hired someone and that means someone who knew the castle. But no one, including Jax, seemed to even know about the elevator working. It makes no sense unless—it must have been Echo. He’d know the castle. He’d know things even Jax might not know about the castle. He was there as an adult all the years Jax was a kid.

I dial Smith. “What about Echo? Did we find him?”

“He’s a ghost. The only logical explanations are either he’s dead and buried, or he left by water where there wouldn’t be cameras.”

“He’d know the castle to get to me.”

“Good point.”

“And Jax’s mother. Anything?”

“Same story with her. The only way to not be found by us is as I already described. You’re dead or you’re completely off-grid and underground.”

My office building comes into view. “I’m here.” I disconnect and think of myself in that bed, naked. I think of Jax in that airplane scared for me. He’s lost his brother and father recently. I can’t imagine the blame game he’s playing with himself right now. My anger burns hot, and I charge forward.

Once I’m inside the building, I ignore the guards. They know me. I hope like hell none of them have been alerted to tell my brother when I arrive. Because, of course, he knows this is coming. I weave through the crowd, nose down, avoiding staff who know me and feel relief over my success. I head to the stairwell because, despite the long walk up, that’s the best way to assure my brother doesn’t get word that I’m in the building. One text message, and he knows I’m here.

Of course, I soon find a drugged undernourished person does not walk a ton of stairs easily, but I get it done. I’m about to exit to my floor, which is also my brother’s floor when my phone rings with Jax’s number. I lean on the wall and answer. “Jax?”

“Emma.” His voice is rough, affected. “Thank God, baby. You have no idea how worried I’ve been.”

“Jax,” I whisper, and just talking to him is like coming home. “You didn’t think I left on my own, right?”

“No. I never thought that. I knew better. I knew we were—are—”

“We are,” I say. “We so are.”

“Yes, baby, we are. Are you okay?”

“Yes. I’m weak, and I’m shaken, but I’m in fight mode, too. Are you here?”