Jewels And Panties: (Book 1-15) Billionaire Romance Series

by Brooke Kinsley

  "Thank you," she said. "You've no idea how much this means to me."

  "Please," I begged. "I need you to find me everything you know about this guy."

  She nodded and placed the money on the desk.

  "Anything," she said. "But can I at least ask why?"

  I looked over at Berger. I'd filled him in as much as I could on the way and he was still in disbelief.

  "I want to propose to my girlfriend," I said. “She’s in trouble and… I don’t know if I’ll see her again.”

  Dana looked at me as though I'd just given her a complicated math equation.

  “Please. Just do it now."

  She nodded and turned back to the computer.

  "I'm going to hell for this," she said.

  "No, with that money you're going to Hawaii."

  For the first time she smiled and I thought there was probably a reason why her charms probably worked on guys like the chief and from what I'm guessing, Berger too.

  "Craig Solomon," she said under her breath as she typed his name, her fingers fluttering over the keyboard. "There are two people in Normont with his name that have shown up on our system."

  I looked over her shoulder and saw one of them was over fifty.

  "That one," I pointed at the bottom entry.

  She clicked on it and at once, we were bombarded with a screen packed full of writing.

  "Woah, a lot of paperwork on this guy," she said as she began clicking.

  He appeared to have an extensive criminal record, one that Etta had never mentioned before. I was starting to think that there was a chance she didn't even know about it.

  "Dana?"

  I placed a hand on her shoulder.

  "Thank you."

  She smiled and blinked her long eyelashes at me.

  "Is there anything else I can do for you,Mr.Bosworth."

  "No..Just... Could you give us some time alone?"

  "I can't leave you in here alone!"

  "Please."

  She looked worried. If we were caught in here looking at confidential records I couldn't imagine what the repercussions would be.

  "I'll be right outside," she said. "Don't be long."

  We watched her leave, Berger's eyes focusing on the swing of her hips.

  "I'm guessing you and her..."

  He nodded.

  "You're an old dog, Berger."

  "Yeah I'm a dog," he lamented. "But I'm not too old to learn new tricks."

  He pulled up a seat and we both stared at the multiple entries that resided beneath Craig's name.

  "So this bastard has Etta?"

  "And I'll kill him when I find him."

  We looked through each file.

  There were a few recent ones. A DUI, a parking fine and a couple acts of lewd behavior.

  "You're saying Etta was living with this guy?"

  "They were childhood sweethearts," I said.

  "Believe me, you're a step up."

  "Thanks," I said, flatly.

  "Wait a minute. What's that?"

  He pointed at the screen.

  Right at the bottom lay Craig's first ever recorded arrest.

  "That was a long time ago," said Berger. "How old is this guy?"

  "Late twenties, early thirties. Why?"

  We both stared at the date. It was from fifteen years ago. He would have been a kid back then.

  Berger reached over the desk and pushed my hand off the mouse.

  "Sorry, let me. I know my way around the system."

  He opened the file and we were both confronted with the mugshot of a teenager. Still baby faced with a chin splattered with acne, we were looking at a normal teenager. Or at least we thought we were.

  "Jesus Christ!" Berger leaned forward until his nose was only inches from the screen. "Look at these charges."

  Breaking and entering. Kidnap. Attempted murder...

  "What the fuck?"

  "Did Etta know about this?"

  "I fucking doubt it!"

  Berger leaned even closer toward the screen.

  "He would have only been fifteen when this happened."

  "What did he do?"

  Berger scrolled down, his eyes flicking back and forth as he read the file in double time. He remained ominously silent, his mouth pulling itself tighter and tighter as he read down the page.

  "Berger! Are you gonna tell me or not?"

  He sat back and clapped a hand to his jaw.

  "Something wasn't right with that kid," he said.

  He looked off into the distance for asecond then turned to me.

  "If we're talking about the same guy, and he's the one who has Etta then I think all we can do is pray."

  "We have no time for God," I said. "Praying won't solve a thing."

  He rolled his eyes back to the screen and let his hand drop.

  "It says here that he kidnapped his girlfriend. Or rather, his ex-girlfriend. She'd tried to dump him and he took her out to an abandoned house in his neighborhood. Kept her there for three days. Raped her repeatedly, beat her, tied her up and starved her."

  Something in my stomach dropped. It felt as though my whole body had been hollowed out. If he was capable of doing that as a kid then what could he do now as an adult?

  Berger saw the look of panic in my eyes and I could tell he was trying to give me a shred of hope that things could work out. I could tell he wanted to tell me all the comforting things I wanted to hear but he just couldn't.

  "He stabbed her thirteen times," he said. "Left her for dead. The only reason she survived was because someone walking their dog past the house heard her crying. They saw the front door had been busted open and when they went inside, they found her chained to the radiator."

  "But... she lived?"

  "She survived long enough to testify against him in court," he said and pointed at the screen. "It also says she committed suicide three months later."

  Jesus fucking Christ, I thought. It's over. I've failed her.

  I felt the ring box in my pocket and knew it was now useless. She'd never wear it. Would never be my wife.

  "Do you have any idea where he could be keeping her?" asked Berger.

  I shook my head, my fingers gripping at the ring box.

  "Well, for what it's worth, my two cents is that his behavior won't alter that much from his first offence. I'd say he'd almost want to relive it. If he's holding her somewhere I'd bet on him taking her to an abandoned house just like that one."

  I thought hard. I didn't know any abandoned houses. Bowing my head, I thought that for the first time in my life, I'd start praying. This had to be as good a time to start as any.

  Then a thought flashed up in my mind.

  Their old house. Didn't Etta say it was foreclosed? Didn't she say it was lying empty?

  "Fuck!" I jumped up. "I know where she is!"

  Berger leaped up and Dana, hearing the commotion opened the door.

  "Shit, the superintendent's on his way," she said. "You guys need to leave. Now."

  "We're on our way," I said. "But first, Berger, you need to get us a car."

  Chapter Seven

  BERGER

  "Are you sure about this?"

  We were running down the back fire escape, our feet barely touching the concrete steps.

  "Sure?" he asked as though he'd never heard the word before.

  "Yeah, sure. As in do you really think she'll be at her old house?"

  He carried on running, landing on the bottom step before flinging himself through the door. As soon as his hands hit the metal bar the alarm sounded.

  "Fuck. Just what we need."

  "Just hurry up."

  Down in the parking lot, there were a series of patrol cars. At the far end, where the electric light dipped out into thedarkness, there was a young rookie parking up, the sound of his radio crackling.

  "If there was ever an easy target," I thought out loud.

  He looked barely old enough to tie his shoelaces let alone drive, let alo
ne drive a police car nevermind be an actual policeman. I kinda wanted to teach him how to shave then make him some hot cocoa.

  "You know how much trouble I'm gonna be in for this," I said.

  He shrugged as he walked, his coat fanning out behind him. In the unflattering light with the stress of the situation casting shadows down his face, he looked like a manic Van Helsing out on a mission to defeat evil through one life threatening event after another.

  "Are you okay?" I found myself asking and cursed myself at the stupidity of my question.

  "Okay?" he asked.

  It wasn't a word he'd thought of for a long while.

  "Yeah..."

  "Not, I'm not okay but I will be. When I find her."

  He thrust his hand into his pocket and held onto something, narrowing his eyes as though he was concentrating so hard on it, he was convinced whatever it was would give him the strength he needed. No doubt it did because he was speeding up, his long legs covering vast distances in a second.

  "You do know I shouldn't be doing this, right?"

  "So you keep saying."

  "I mean finding Etta. Remember when she knocked me out and tried to kill me."

  He cast his eyes up to the ceiling as though he had a hard time recalling.

  "Oh... yeah..." he said. "How is that head of yours?"

  I pointed to the crusted up bloodied wound.

  "Not bad."

  "That wasn't just Etta. That was..."

  "The chief too. Who'll no doubt know that I'll have been here. Dana's a sweetheart when she feels like it but she'll talk if she has to. She's weak."

  "Weak at the knees around you apparently."

  He gave me a sideways glance. There was almost a humorous look in his eye but whatever thought he had soon vanished.

  "You ever think about settling down, Berger?"

  "All the time."

  In front of us, the rookie's radio still crackled. He was fidgeting with the buttons, obviously not able to remember what sequence they moved in.

  "First day on the job?" I asked. "Where's your partner?"

  "Er..."

  He pressed a few buttons, stumbled around for a minute then looked up at us.

  He glanced over Bosworth then over to me.

  He could tell there was something not right about the way we stood and there was definitely something not right about Bosworth. Struggling to get through each minute, he was surviving off pure adrenaline and the will to find Etta. The fight for her was written all over his body; in the way he'd lost weight, in the way dark circles sunk deep beneath his eyes, in the way those eyes now looked haunted.

  Yet despite all that, I had to admit that he was still one handsome son of a bitch. It was like he was thriving off the chaos and danger, his very soul being nourished by the quest to find her.

  "I'm detective Berger," I said to the kid and reached into my inside pocket for the badge I knew wasn't there.

  "Uhuh..." said the rookie.

  Dumb fuck, I thought. Why is he just standing there like some moron?

  "You wanna hand me the keys?" I asked and put my hand out.

  He just stared at it, the keys still very much in his open hand.

  "Hand them over."

  "I... er... have to..."

  "Just hand them over."

  He watched me for a moment. He may have been young but I was starting to realize he wasn't as stupid as I thought he was.

  "Who did you say you were?"

  "Detective Berger."

  "I've heard about you."

  Shit... What does that mean?

  "You're working on the case of the Broadwood girls, aren't you?"

  His eyes lit up and I was starting to see who he really was, a crime junkie with a penchant for serial killer cases. That's why he joined the force, that's why he was looking up at me as though I was Jesus. The fact that I was standing next to one of the world's most influential billionaires seemed to be adding some extra weight.

  "That's right."

  "It's not been in the news for a while," he said, taking a step forward.

  Instead of placing the car keys in my hand, he slapped his palm against it and shook it vigorously.

  "No, it hasn't."

  "Have the murders stopped? Do you have a key suspect?"

  Fuck sake, this kid just wants to chat about the case.

  I had the distinct impression that we were going to be there a long time if I didn't think of something fast.

  "So you've been following the case?" I asked.

  "Yup!" he said, proudly. "Since the beginning."

  Beside me, Bosworth bristled but only I knew why.

  "Maybe you'll be able to work on the case yourself one day."

  "Really?" he beamed as though he'd just heard what he was getting for Christmas.

  "Sure! Make friends with the right people and anything is possible."

  He got the hint and smiled.

  "I'd really like that, detective."

  He gave me a knowing look.

  "The keys, right?"

  "The keys."

  He dropped them into my hand.

  "My name's Adams," he said.

  "First name?"

  "Wayne."

  "Wayne Adams... I'll remember you. Thanks."

  I jangled the keys and patted him on the back.

  "I won't tell anyone," he said as he walked away. "Whatever you're doing."

  "Good man," I said. "Make sure you don't."

  Chapter Eight

  ETTA

  "You're in real trouble now!"

  His shoulder connected with the door once again. I watched as the hinges began to shake. All there was to protect us was this damn chair that blocked his entrance but if he kept this up any longer, even that was going to shatter.

  "He's a mad man," said mom, her arm still wound around mine. "When did this..."

  "Happen?"

  She looked up at me with her green watery eyes. She seemed so old, so frail, so different to when I saw her last and she was making plans for sailing around the world.

  "He must have always been like this," I said, coming to the realization myself. "He must have been, right?"

  The noise stopped along with his constant battering of the door.

  "What did you say?" he asked.

  Shit, he heard us? How could he have heard us?

  "You said I'm a mad man... A mad man..."

  There was the sound of him sliding down the door, his leather jacket crumpling against the wood as he slumped to the floor.

  "Mad man," he said again. "You want to know when I became a mad man?"

  He said the word over and over again, muttering it under his breath like an invocation. He spoke it to himself until it meant nothing, until it was just a sound, just an extension of his breath.

  He's really lost it now.

  He may have stopped trying to break in but I had learned over the last few days that that meant nothing at all. These moments when he seemed to relax were the worst of all. These were the times when he was plotting his next move, when his mind was unravelling. It was the calm before the storm.

  "Mad man," he said again, this time with added emphasis, this time with meaning. "That's what you think of me?"

  Mom and me clung to each other in the darkness.

  "Answer me! Is that what you think of me?"

  I prized her fingers off my arm. There were ridges from her fingernails lying deep in my skin.

  Slowly, I tiptoed over to the door and placed a hand on the wood knowing that only a couple inches on the other side, he was there. I could smell him, feel his energy through the door.

  "Yes," I said and crouched down on the floor.

  I imagined my words were reaching him at his level, his face so close to mine beyond the shield of the door. There was no knowing what he'd do next. Maybe this was the moment when he finally snapped and he'd blow the whole house up. Perhaps he’d sprinkle us with bullets before killing himself. Maybe this was the moment w
hen he'd finally decide that his delusions were greater than his mind and he was going to give into his mania. He'd end our misery with a gunshot before ending himself.

  I waited for the end, waited for the second when I'd hear the creak of his jacket once more as he reached for thegun but it never came. Instead, he sighed and slammed his head back against the door.

  "Did I ever tell you the story about Karen?" he asked.

  Karen... It wasn't a name I immediately recognized.

  "Karen?"

  "My ex-girlfriend."

  No. I definitely hadn't heard about her.

  "You've never mentioned her," I said.

  He sighed again. There was the sound of a lighter sparking, a deep inhalation followed by a satisfied exhale.

  "I probably should have," he said.

  The smell of smoke began to filter up from beneath the door. Behind me, mom shook, her nails now clawing at her own arms as she hugged herself.

  "I probably should have," he said. "Although you would never have loved me if I had. You'd probably never have even spoken to me again."

  There was no guessing what he was talking about.

  Karen.

  I chewed the name over in my mind trying to remember her at all but there was nothing. Just a void in my brain. If she was so special to him then he'd clearly made a concerted effort to keep her in his past.

  "Karen."

  He said her name like he was praying, almost singing each syllable.

  "I loved her, you know. How does that make you feel?"

  Was he trying to make me jealous?

  "Feel? I feel..."

  What does he want to hear? Shit! What do I say?

  "I guess it makes me feel peculiar," I said.

  "Peculiar!" he spat. "What the fuck does that mean?"

  "It means I find it hard to understand why you never told me about her. I thought I was your first love. You always told me I was you first at... everything."

  I thought back to the awkward night we'd spent in my bedroom when we were seventeen and my parents were out of town. For so long it had been the most special night of my life when we had both lost our virginity. It had been a turning point when we had moved from children to adults when our relationship had become meaningful. Now I was starting to come to the realization that it was nothing but an act. He'd done it before. He was no virgin. He was lying even back then.