“Well, where’d they go?” demanded Mason, blue eyes sharp, voice a growl. “Where was a young girl going by herself in the middle of the night? Did you think to ask?”
Leo shuddered visibly, shrinking into himself.
“I didn’t see,” he muttered, bottom lip trembling. “I’m sorry sirs, I didn’t see.”
I closed my eyes, a headache coming on. Shit, this was so fucking lame. We’d pounded her good, loving that sweet body, worshipping everything about Katie. So why had she taken off in the middle of the night? What the hell, it made no sense.
It was especially confusing, and my mind circled back to that ring. Oh yeah, that engagement ring cost us six figures, but it was the right thing to do. The two diamonds, one light, one dark, symbolized everything Mace and I couldn’t say to Katie. It glimmered, so precious, so starkly rare and beautiful, and most of all, one hundred percent real. Because these were real diamonds, no cubic zirconia or lab-grown anything. Even if our relationship existed in a bubble, it was still real in some sense. We felt something for one another, engaging each other in endless chit chat, jokes, and even deep conversation.
So why the hell had Katie taken off? What in the world? I wanted to beat Leo into the ground, but that was no way to treat a loyal servant, especially one who was nearing seventy. So instead, I turned back to Mace.
“We’ll find her,” I ground out, blue eyes flashing. “We have to.”
My lover almost roared again, the rage and anguish totally visible.
“But what the fuck?” he protested. “Why now? What the hell?”
I shook my head.
“Who knows? But whatever it is, we’ve got to find her.”
So yeah, our private investigator was on it the next morning. And within hours, he’d located Katie. It wasn’t hard. Yellow cab with sweet, nubile eighteen-year old, departing the Markham Apartments around midnight last night? She couldn’t hide, an email with her address popping into our inboxes by eleven a.m. But when Mace and I realized where she was living, the nightmare began.
“Are you serious?” I grunted again, disbelieving. “This is the place?”
Because we’d taken an unmarked car out to New Jersey, slowly coasting down the block where our girl was allegedly staying. And frankly, there was nothing to see. Or more accurately, what there was to see was such an eyesore that it was better to close your eyes. Cracked concrete lined the sidewalks, each box-like house saggy and faded, more than a few broken windows papered over with cardboard. There was no vegetation in sight, the sun beating down, hot air visibly rising off the asphalt.
“Guess this Aunt Mae wasn’t exactly rolling in it,” muttered Mace, shaking that dark head. “Why the hell would she come here?”
Exactly. Why would Katie leave the comfort and luxury of our home to live in this dilapidated saltbox? She could be taking a bath in one of our dozen bathrooms, soaking in bubbles, or working out in the private gym. Whereas here, the metal chain link fences were grim, barking Rottweilers lunging inside.
But it wasn’t too late. More than anything, we just wanted answers. Why was she doing this? What happened to the plan? What happened to the fake engagement? Even if she didn’t want to do that anymore, still. Why take off in the middle of the night?
So setting my mouth in a line, I grimly opened the car door, unfolding my huge frame. Shit, Mace and I stood out like two rampaging lions in the sad little neighborhood. Our thousand dollars suits stood out, two perfectly-groomed, powerful alpha males exuding confidence, like Roman emperors visiting the slums. But it didn’t matter. We were going to yank our girl back out and put her in her place with that ring on her finger whether she liked it or not.
Striding up to the front door, I pounded loudly.
“Katie,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm. “Open up. It’s us.”
No sound came out even as Mace and I stood on either side of that faded, sagging door like two sentinels.
“Little girl,” I tried again. “What the hell? We know you’re in there. Let us in.”
This time, the shade in the window twitched a bit and an old lady peered at us from the darkened interior.
“Who are you?” came a cackly voice. “Get off my doorstep!”
Mace and I shot puzzled looks at each other. Seems our intelligence was wrong. Auntie Mae was supposed to be dead, but from the looks of it, there was a wizened female inhabiting the house.
“Auntie Mae,” I began. “I’m Derek Smith, President of Major Enterprises …”
That’s usually enough for an introduction, people fawn and swoon when they realize I’m an executive at a Fortune 500 company. But in this case, it didn’t make one whit of a difference.