Chapter Three
Justice
"I'm so mad at you right now," Milan says, scowling daggers at me from across the limo. She's got her arms crossed over her chest, pouting. As if that will keep me from seeing what she tries so hard to hide.
I'm not crazy enough to tell her how adorable she looks, pretending she hates that I'm taking her home with me. I'm also not crazy enough to think she'll admit that she has feelings for me. I'm a little surprised she actually confessed that she calls me daddy. Pushing her was probably wrong, but I needed to hear her say it as badly as she needed to say it.
I already know she's going to make me fight like hell to claim her. And that's all right. I'll fight as long and hard as she needs me to fight. But when she's done, she needs to know that she'll be safe with me, that I see her for exactly who she is and that I love her exactly as she is. She needs to know that she can trust me with anything, that I'll never betray her.
I tried to stay away. I tried to do the right thing and not saddle her to a motherfucker like me. Maybe if she hadn't confirmed that she wants me to be her daddy, I could have found the strength to…. Okay, that's not true. Even if she never uttered that word, I would have made her mine. The first time she looked at another man or smiled at one, I would have lost my goddamn mind and claimed her. It's not right, but there is no going back for either of us now.
"I'll let you go home as soon as I find Ainsley," I murmur, though I think we both know I'm lying. She is going home. With me. Where she belongs. John Cooper's house isn't her home. It's the place she stayed while waiting for me to get my head out of my ass and do what I should have done a year ago.
"You're not going to find her, Justice."
I quirk a brow.
"She left her cellphone and car behind so you couldn't track her," Milan says. "She won't use her credit cards or access her bank account. She doesn't want you to be able to find her. This isn't some little adventure to her. She plans to disappear."
She's not lying.
"Son of a…" I yank my phone out of my pocket, already dialing.
"Sir?" Travis says, answering immediately.
He's in the SUV behind us with the rest of Ainsley's security team. I haven't fired them. Yet. It's looking more likely by the minute though. The ruthless motherfucker inside wants to bury them in a deep hole in the middle of nowhere for losing Ainsley. I'm trying real damn hard not to be that man though. For Ainsley and for the infuriating little blonde currently glowering at me.
"Have the police meet us at the house to file a missing person's report," I growl. "And activate the GPS tracker on Milan's car."
Milan doesn't even react to this bit of news. She knew? Somehow, I'm not surprised. Milan isn't just beautiful. She's smart as hell. She graduated at the top of her class, despite getting booted out of boarding school for fighting.
At first, I thought she did it to piss off her father. But as far as I can tell, she reserves that attitude for me. When her father actually bothers to come around to check on her, she's…cordial with him. No attitude. None of that mouth. She treats him with polite distance, as if they're two strangers inhabiting the same space for however long he manages to stay. It's rarely more than a day or two.
"I already tried that," Travis says. "It's been turned off."
"It's been turned off?"
Milan bats her lashes at me.
"For how long?"
"It last transmitted two days ago," Travis says.
"Have the police meet me," I growl into the phone and then disconnect.
"Oops. I guess I forgot to mention that I removed the GPS tracker you put on my car," Milan says. Her smile is so full of sugar it's deadly.
I don't know if I want to spank her, kiss her, or fuck her.
"You knew."
"It wasn't exactly a big conclusion to take a flying leap at," she says with a sniff. "You don't let her go anywhere without being completely ridiculous."
"I didn't put it on your car for her, Milan."
"She knew you were going to send her away," she says, ignoring me. Her chin comes up, her eyes narrowing on me. But not before I see the flash of genuine hurt in them. "She heard you talking on the phone to someone about it."
"So that's what this is about?" I shake my head, laughing in disbelief. "Fucking hell. I was sending her to college. Not to the wilds of Alaska."
"What school?"
"Somewhere–"
"Safe?" she says, interrupting me before I can say it. "That's what this is about, Justice. She's nineteen years old, but you still run every facet of her life. You're so damn afraid something will happen to her that you've completely missed the fact that it already has happened."
"What does that mean?"