Slow & Steady, page 9
part #2 of Alphas Undone Series
I sat down on the end of her mattress. I’d never been inside her bedroom before, and it was pretty bare-bones. One twin-sized bed and a narrow dresser, making me think she’d sold off her marital bed and furniture. A framed photo of Marcus stood on her nightstand. I picked it up and looked down at the half-lidded eyes of my friend as he smiled back at me. If she really had split town, she never would have left this behind.
“I’m going to find her, buddy,” I promised.
After locking up behind me, I dialed my boss, Jerry Barton.
“I’m listening,” he answered on the first ring.
“We’ve got a situation, Jerry. I need you to dig up everything on a guy named Brant Rockwell. He lives in the area. Works as an accountant, I believe. Frequents the Dolly House Gentleman’s Club.”
“What’s going on?” he asked. I knew he was already taking down my every word.
“A new case I’m requesting. Finley’s missing and I have good intel that that asshole was obsessed with her. He clearly has something to do with her disappearance. I’ve got to make this right.”
Jerry paused, then cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, there’s no delicate way to say this...but Nolan mentioned something that day you didn’t show up to work. Are you sure she isn’t just avoiding you?”
“Jerry, with all due respect, I know the difference between a break-up and a fucking kidnapping. No one’s seen or heard from her in two days. Her car is parked in the lot and she’s gone.”
“I had to ask,” he said, his tone softer.
“I get it. But I’m going after her.”
“Fine. I'll give you and Nolan clearance for whatever resources you need. Bring our girl home.”
“Nolan's not involved. I'm going alone.” Climbing in my SUV, I gunned the engine, heading toward home to prepare for war if need be.
“Cut the crap, Greyson. So you and Nolan had an argument—get over it. Or take someone else, if you want. Sean and Davis are free today.”
“That's not the reason. Nolan and I are square. But this is for me to set right. No one else.” I failed Marcus that day, and while nothing will ever make up for that fact, it had to be me.
“I can’t advocate that, Greyson. You know the risks of flying solo. No lookout or driver or gunner, no backup to call on if shit hits the fan...”
“I know. But I need to do this.” I ended the call and stepped on the gas. Every second counted if Finley and Maple were in danger.
Chapter Twelve
Finley
Soon after sunrise on the third day, I carried Maple upstairs and set her in her high chair. Brant was already sitting at the kitchen table, with his laptop open in front of him and a cup of black coffee by his elbow. He looked up and smiled at the sound of my footsteps. “Good morning, sunshine. What's for breakfast?”
Whatever you're making, asshole, was what I wanted to snap. Which decade were we living in again? He'd clearly been up for a while, but he hadn't lifted a finger to put food on the table. If only I could starve him to death by pretending to be a bad cook.
“Morning,” I replied tonelessly. “I was thinking pancakes.”
Ever since the first day, I'd struggled to maintain the fragile balance between making him angry and coming across as flirtatious. I had to keep things strictly civil. If he thought I'd warmed up to him too much...
I still slept in the downstairs guest room where I'd first woken up. Unchained now, so I could use the bathroom and reach Maple if she cried. Brant hadn't made me spend the night in his bed yet. Although he had broached the subject—and I'd tried not to shudder too visibly—he hadn't pushed it. But I was sure it was only a matter of time. And when that time came, I didn't know what I'd do.
Brant beamed and turned to Maple. “Ooh, pancakes. How would you like that, darling? With lots of maple syrup for my maple girl?”
She just gave him a slow, big-eyed blink. Your girl? she seemed to say. Who the hell are you and why are you talking to me? I chuckled to myself. She might not have been old enough to understand the details, but she could sense when things weren't quite right.
I eyed Brant's laptop as I cut open a bag of pancake mix and dumped it into a bowl. A red Ethernet cable looped from his computer to a jack on the wall under the table. Signal or no signal, he needed to keep up with work, and for that he needed Internet. But he hadn't given me a moment alone with any of his electronics.
While pouring the batter onto the griddle, I commented as casually as I could manage, “By the way, we're out of diapers.” I had been changing Maple almost every hour to use them up as fast as possible. Brant had only packed a small stash. I figured he only had two options here: He would bring us back to civilization in order to keep an eye on us, giving me the chance to make a scene, find a phone, maybe even just run for it. Or he'd leave us behind, letting me explore the house unsupervised. Your move, you twisted son of a bitch.
“Oh, dear. I guess I'll have to drive downtown today.”
I let myself grin, knowing he couldn't see it when I faced the stove. “Can we come along with you? I want to see if I can find Maple's usual toddler snacks. She can be picky.”
He frowned. “I don't think that's a good idea. Your eye's still black and blue...we don't want to attract attention. People are probably looking for you.”
Privately, I doubted that. I had no family living nearby, no real friends. The other strip club employees would be the only people wondering about me, but strippers unexpectedly quit their jobs all the time. They'd probably just grumble about having to pick up my shift. But what I said was, “You're right. It would look suspicious.” I started to flip the gently bubbling pancakes.
Brant shut his laptop and looked at Maple again. “Maybe this would be a good chance for some father-daughter time.”
I froze, almost dropping a pancake on the floor. That idea hadn't occurred to me. Just the thought of leaving her alone with him was too horrifying for words. And if he separated us, I'd be stuck waiting until they got back to grab Maple and escape. I had to shut down his idea fast. But my mind was paralyzed. Quick, Finley, come up with a reason... My insides felt like they were being twisted with a fork.
“She only lets me pick her up,” I blurted. That was only a partial lie. Before Greyson barged into our lives, Maple had been a one-hundred-percent mommy's girl. “She'll start screaming and carrying on in the store.”
“Is that so?” I held my breath as Brant looked at her. Finally, he sighed. “Too bad. I guess it'll have to wait until we know each other better.”
I rushed our heaping plates to the table. The pancakes tasted like sand and rasped down my throat like concrete. Mechanically, I forced myself to keep chewing and swallowing, my heart pounding in anticipation. In contrast, Brant ate with such leisure that I thought I might scream. He poured himself a second cup of coffee and I briefly, vividly fantasized about stabbing him with my fork. Finish your goddamn breakfast and get in the car, already!
At long last, the front door closed. Maple and I were alone for the first time in three days. The bad news was that Brant had taken his laptop and cell with him. On some level, though, I'd expected that. What mattered was how long my window of opportunity was. Without knowing where we were—and therefore where the nearest town was—I could only guess when he'd get back. But an hour seemed like a safe minimum.
Taking Maple's hand, I started searching the house for a landline phone. But the longer I explored, the lower my heart sank. All I found were bare jacks. Brant had pulled the phones themselves out of the walls and either hidden or destroyed them. I checked the clock. Shit, I only had twenty minutes before I had to start watching my back. That wasn't enough time to turn the house upside-down looking for phones that might not even exist anymore. I sat down on the cold hardwood floor, head on my knees, crushed.
Then tiny fingers touched my hair. I looked up into Maple's wide jade eyes, full of worry. “Mommy?” she asked softly.
I sniffed back the tears that threatened. I had to keep it together for my daughter's sake. But what the hell was I going to do now? Just walk out into the wilderness and hope I could flag down a passing car? I still didn't have the slightest clue where we were. And Brant probably wouldn't have left us here alone if there was any help within walking distance.
But there was nothing else left to try. It's worth a shot...
I stood and scooped Maple up against my chest. She made an uncertain noise. But her small hands held tight around my neck, as if she knew how serious this was. I hoped she didn't understand too much; this nightmare could cost her years of therapy later in life.
“It's okay, sugar pie,” I murmured as confidently as I could. “We're just going for a walk.” The longest walk of our lives. I hurried downstairs to the front door, anxious to make the most of our head start.
Just as I touched the doorknob, my heart stopped at the crunch of gravel in the driveway. How could he be back already? I squinted through the frosted glass. That car didn't look like Brant's sedan. It was too big, wrong color, wrong style...
My heart bounded back to life. Could it be? Was I dreaming? A tall figure got out and loped up the driveway.
“Ay-son!” Maple squealed.
I gasped and fumbled with the lock. It wasn't too good to be true. I wasn't going to wake up in that bed yet again, sick with dread, fresh despair twisting in my gut. Greyson really was here. He had come for me and he would make everything okay again, just like he did before. In that moment, the image of us sitting at my crappy little table eating mac 'n cheese ached just as sharply as my memories of Marcus.
I flung open the door and Grey was standing there on the porch, so perfect, my savior. His handsome features were set in a look of pure determination. It was a good thing Brant had gone out, because Grey probably would have killed him on the spot.
Relief shone in his eyes like dawn. “Finley, thank God. Is he here?”
I quickly shook my head. “No, but he'll be back soon,” I managed to croak.
Maple struggled in my arms, giggling. I put her down and she grabbed Grey's leg like a fireman's pole. He ruffled her golden hair. “That's okay. I wasn't planning on hanging around.”
He followed me downstairs and helped me throw all of our meager belongings into a trash bag. As we finished, I turned to see him holding Maple in the crook of one muscled arm. Something about seeing him like that—a strong protector carrying my baby—cracked my heart wide open. All the stress and fear of the past three days finally hit me. I buried my face in my hands and started sobbing. I didn't need to stay stoic anymore. If only for a moment, I could let go. I could let my tears wash me clean.
Firm warmth closed all around me. Grey's other arm, with Maple pressed between us. “What's wrong?” he asked. His voice rumbled beneath my cheek. “Are you hurt?”
Swallowing hard, I gave him a weak smile. “It's okay,” I said, and meant it this time.
Grey may not have understood why I was crying, but he kept on holding me. Maple did her part by reaching up to pet my chin.
A minute later I stepped back, sniffed loudly, and said, “Let's hurry.”
He nodded and started back upstairs, still carrying Maple. I followed with the trash bag.
Once we were all safely in the car, Grey pulled out his phone and dialed a number I didn't recognize. “Mr. Barton,” he said, with no preliminaries. “I've secured the hostages. The target should arrive within the hour. I'd like to have a little party waiting for him when he gets back...arrest him for kidnapping and assault.”
Grey paused for a moment to listen, then turned to me and asked me in an undertone, “Was he armed?”
I nodded. “He kept a pistol tucked into his waistband.”
“Tell the state troopers he's armed and dangerous,” Grey said. Then he hung up and gunned the engine. With a spray of gravel, we started bumping down the mountainside, heading on our long way home.
Chapter Thirteen
Greyson
With hot blood still raging through my veins, it took everything I had just to keep driving east. I wanted to go back there and wait for Brant to return. To make him feel the same agony I’d felt for the last three days searching for Finley and Maple—let alone the pain and fear he'd put them through. But getting them home as soon as possible was more important than revenge. Knowing they were both safe, and next to me, I kept driving, putting as much distance as possible between them and danger’s path.
Finley sobbed quietly in the passenger's seat, her hands shaking in her lap, while Maple napped behind us in her car seat, unaware of everything that had gone on. Or maybe, somehow her little mind had absorbed some of it and the stress had exhausted her.
I curled my fists around the steering wheel and settled in. We had a long drive ahead of us and there was no way in hell I was ready to take Finley back to her apartment. Honestly, I had no intention of letting her out of my sight again, but I didn’t know how she was going to take that. So I just drove.
A couple hours later, Maple was restless and we were all hungry. I navigated to an acceptably nice hotel off the interstate and pulled the SUV to a stop.
“What are we doing here?” Finley asked. There was smudged makeup under her eyes and she looked exhausted. I couldn’t even imagine what she had been through. We would get to that, but first I needed them settled.
“We’ll rest. Let Maple run around and play. Order room service. Come on.” I turned off the car and got out.
Finley gave a soft sigh, but didn’t argue. We checked into a room with two double beds and requested a crib be brought up. I ordered a feast from room service while Finley changed Maple's diaper and unpacked what little luggage she had.
“Are we really staying the night here? We’re only a few hours from home,” she asked after I hung up the phone.
“It’s the safest thing to do for now. Brant knows where you live.” Obviously. “Until I hear that he’s in custody, I can’t have you going back to your apartment and have him try to come after you again.”
I checked my phone again. No word from Jerry yet. The idea of that guy being hauled off in handcuffs—preferably with a little police brutality—was the only thing that could ease my mind right now. Until I knew for sure, we’d lay low.
“Once we eat, we’ll find a store and pick up some supplies.”
We’d gotten out of there so fast, all they had were the clothes on their backs and a few meager articles thrown in a trash bag.
Finley sunk down onto the bed and nodded. “I just feel like an epic failure. I put my daughter in jeopardy. Probably scarred her for life.”
“Don’t say that. She’s fine. Look at her.”
Maple was toddling around the room while babbling into the TV remote, pretending it was a phone.
Finley wiped a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand. “How can she be fine? We were kidnapped, Grey. By some psychopath from a job I should have never even ...”
“Hey.” I put my hand on her shoulder. “You were doing what you had to do to make ends meet.”
“That’s it. That’s all you’re going to say? No, I told you so?” There was so much pain in her eyes. It sliced straight through me and made my heart stutter.
I shook my head. That would be an asshole of a thing to say at a time like this. Now, if she tried to continue working there, then all bets were off.
“How did you know something was wrong? How did you know to come find me?” she asked.
“I just knew.” Because you’re mine to protect now.
Her eyes grew wider and I thought maybe, just maybe, she was starting to understand that.
When our food arrived, we ate in front of the TV, watching some kid’s show that kept Maple occupied. Afterwards, we just kept moving as if on auto-pilot, putting on our shoes and piling into the car. I wanted nothing more than to pull Finley into the bed with me, wrap my arms around them and just hold her. Let her calm down like I knew she needed to. But we had responsibilities first. We had a baby with a very soggy diaper, and in a couple hours, it would be bedtime. I wanted to make sure her routine stayed as normal as possible. So we headed into town to a super-store and pushed a shopping cart through the aisles, tossing essentials in as we went. Lavender baby shampoo, diapers, snacks, and a pair of yoga pants for Finley. She grumbled something about that fuckstick only packing her lingerie and dresses. I clenched my jaw and kept my mouth shut.
A little while later, back at the hotel, Finley gave Maple a bath and then I diapered and dressed her in her new fuzzy pajamas while Finley showered herself. It was the first time I’d ever changed a diaper, but rather than it being gross, I felt proud taking care of her.
Finley took her time in the shower, and that was fine with me. I figured she had some things to work through. By the time I heard the shower turn off, Maple was sound asleep in her temporary crib.
The bathroom door opened with a rush of warm steam. Finley was dressed in her new yoga pants and an oversized t-shirt, and her damp hair hung in loose, golden waves around her shoulders. With her skin scrubbed clean of makeup and her pink cheeks glowing from the warm shower, she looked years younger. Softer, somehow. But those brilliant green eyes still sliced right through me.
The desire to touch her and kiss her rose inside me. But my feelings went beyond the physical—further than I'd ever thought possible. Her matter-of-fact strength left me awestruck. She had endured so much for so long. I'd seen more blood and death and pain than any man should, and it had gouged dark trenches into my soul. But all of life's ugliness had barely scratched hers. And what few imperfections she had only made her more beautiful. Her scars spoke quietly, yet undeniably: I survived. I outlasted the enemy. And then I moved on to the next day's battle. How many soldiers could go on fighting with no end in sight, no glory or backup or even the promise of victory?
