by Eden Summers
The room falls silent, everyone focusing on their cells, staring blankly or tapping at the screen.
“I’m going to go back downstairs and get my laptop.” Decker hobbles to his feet. “I won’t take long.”
We work autonomously for hours. Hunter spends his time on the balcony, speaking on his phone. Decker is constantly focused on his computer, with Benji acting like an eager assistant at his side. Cole makes calls, asking for favors from undisclosed people while demanding compliance from others.
I try to keep busy, too, but it’s hard. All the resources I’ve come to depend on in situations like this aren’t available. Normally, I could obtain warrants for phone records or credit card statements. I could order cell traces and hopefully get a tower ping or two to narrow down a location.
Instead, I spend the entire afternoon familiarizing myself with the Costa family, delving through their company’s social media to fixate on the few personal posts about Emmanuel and his children.
They seem close.
A regular hard-working family.
Their involvement in this hostage situation doesn’t make sense. It’s careless when they’re such high-profile people.
The sun has begun to set when Hunter comes back inside. “Costa flew into the same private airport we did.” He slumps onto the sofa and places his cell on the coffee table. “And it wasn’t only him and his psycho wife. Two of their three sons were on the flight, along with three of their security detail.”
“Reconfirming their preparation for battle,” Decker mutters. “I’ve come close to figuring out their location from the skyline in the image.” He turns the laptop screen to face Cole and I on the opposite sofa. “They’re somewhere in this area.” He shows a map with a highlighted circle encapsulating more than a handful of blocks. “Or they were earlier. But it doesn’t mean shit when each of these city blocks would house God knows how many people.”
“Can you narrow it down?” Cole massages the back of his neck. “He’d be staying somewhere expensive. Cut out all the noise and focus on penthouse suites or pricey short-stay apartments.”
“To what fucking end, though?” Hunter asks. “We might narrow that list to fifty places but then what? We go searching one by one? That’ll take all week, when this asshole is meant to be handing them over tomorrow anyway.”
“As tough as it’s going to be, I think we need to wait this out.” Decker closes his laptop and places it on the sofa beside him. “The ball is in Costa’s court. There’s nothing we can do.”
I don’t voice my agreement, but it’s there, burning a hole in my chest.
“We’re dealing with kids now,” he continues. “Even if we did know the location, we couldn’t storm in there. I won’t be a part of a risky operation where one stray bullet will take a child’s life. I say we call it a night. Try to get some sleep. We’ll reassess in the morning.”
“We can’t just do nothing.” Benji glances between Hunter and Cole, his eyes widened with panic.
The heartbeats of silence press in like a closing vault.
Nobody has the correct answer because there isn’t one.
The only choices now are to keep digging with no certainty that information will even help once we find it. Or rest and recuperate so we’re ready when Emmanuel makes arrangements in the morning. If he makes arrangements.
Cole lets out a long huff of breath, his torment sinking under my skin. He doesn’t want to say it. He doesn’t want to do nothing while Stella and Tobias are suffering. But he needs sleep. They all do.
“Decker’s right.” I stare at Cole as his gaze raises to mine, the pain of his defeat hitting me full force. “We’re better off getting some rest. You’re going to need it to think clearly tomorrow.”
“No.” Benji pushes to his feet, shaking his head. “No. We can’t quit.”
“We’re not quitting, man,” Decker soothes. “I promise. We’re only waiting.”
“And while we’re waiting, can you imagine what’s happening to my daughter? She’s with a man aligned with sex traffickers. They could be—” He shakes his head, wincing.
“I’ll call him again.” Cole stands and pulls out his cell. “I’ll ask for more proof of their safety.”
“Ask for a video,” Hunter interjects. “Demand to speak to Stella.”
“Don’t demand.” I approach Cole. “You need to keep a level head. Don’t give him a reason to hang up on—”
“Shut the fuck up.” Hunter scowls his hatred at me. “We don’t need your input.”
“I want to speak to her.” Benji strides around the sofa, approaching. “Let me talk to my daughter.” He reaches for the cell.
Cole broadens his shoulders and straightens to his full height. He transforms from tired and lethargic to territorial and lethal in the blink of an eye. “Get out of my face before I give you what you deserve. I don’t care about your wants or needs. My only concern is for those kids.”
His vehemence is beyond scathing. It’s downright cruel.
“Cole…” His name is whispered from my lips. It’s pulled from me in sympathy for a man who is clearly hurting. But I get no response.
The call is made as Cole moves to the main bedroom.
Benji follows.
“Don’t step foot in that room,” Hunter threatens. “You’ve pushed your luck too far. There’s no more lenience now.”
I don’t understand why they’re hating on Benji. They’re treating him like an enemy, not a distraught father.
I glance to Decker for understanding, then Hunter. Both of them scowl at me in return, leveling me with the same contempt. “What’s going on?” I ask.
“Mind your own business.” Hunter shoves from the sofa and stalks to the kitchen as Cole starts talking in the bedroom.
I switch my attention to the conversation, moving to the doorway alongside Benji to watch Cole pace before the wall of windows.
“I’m being patient,” he mutters. “But I need more proof that those kids are okay. I want video or—”
He quits speaking. Stops moving.
“Yes.” His chin hikes. “I understand.”
He turns toward us and raises a hand, one finger pointed in warning before he lowers the cell and taps the screen. He places the call on speaker, the rustle of unknown sounds rumbling from the phone.
“Uncle Cole?”
The young girl’s voice devastates my composure, dragging all the air from my lungs.
“Stella?” Benji gasps.
I grab his arm, taking the curl of Cole’s lip as a sign that the rule of necessary distance hasn’t changed.
“Be patient,” I whisper. “Let him handle this.”
“It’s me, princess.” Cole keeps his tone level. “How are you?”
“I want to go home. Where are you? Where’s my mom? Are you coming to get us?”
“We’ll be there in the morning. I promise. Are you okay?”
“Yes.” One word. No conviction.
It’s hard to tell if she’s being coerced.
“I don’t know what happened.” She lowers her voice. “We woke up here and we don’t know these people. They say they’re friends with Grandpa, but I’ve never seen them before. Did something happen to Mom and Dad? Is that why we’re here?”
Benji jostles his arm, attempting to loosen my grip.
“Please, Benji.” I cling to him. “Let Cole handle this.”
“Your mom and dad are fine, Stella.” Cole remains incredibly strong, not showing an ounce of panic or heartache. He knows exactly how to speak to her fear to strengthen her. “You’ll see them tomorrow.”
“What about Penny and Uncle Luca? Tobias is worried. Emmanuel said there was an issue last night and that’s why he’s looking after us, but he won’t say what happened. Why haven’t you come to get us?”
Benji’s face crumples. He grabs my wrist, clinging to me like I’m clinging to him.
“There was an issue.” Cole rakes a hand through his hair. “But it’s been
taken care of. Everyone is okay. There’s nothing for you to worry about.”
“Then why haven’t you come?”
“We are coming, sweetheart. We’ll be there tomorrow. Is Emmanuel looking after you? Do you feel safe?”
There’s a pause. A frantic heartbeat where my fear overrides comprehension.
“Yes.” She stalls again. “Mrs. Costa has been watching movies with us all afternoon. We’ve eaten cakes and pastries and ice cream. We had pizza for dinner.”
Cole’s gaze meets mine. His eyes are questioning. Hopefully pleading.
He wants to know if I believe her. If I’m hearing anything he’s not. And I honestly can’t tell.
I’m too invested now. Emotion has taken over my intelligence.
I shake my head and shrug, mouthing, “I don’t know.”
“Is anyone else with you?” he asks. “Other men, or—”
A rustle emanates from the speaker.
“I think that’s enough for tonight,” Emmanuel’s voice cuts in. “The children are tired and need to get ready for bed. I will contact you in the morning to make arrangements. Good night, Mr. Torian.”
“Wait.” Benji runs for Cole. “I’m here, baby. You’re daddy’s here.”
There’s no answer.
No response.
No noise at all.
“He disconnected the call.” Cole’s jaw ticks as he pockets the cell, his attention focused over my shoulder. “What are your thoughts?”
I turn, finding Hunter and Decker standing a few feet behind me, their faces solemn.
“She didn’t seem under duress.” Decker limps closer. “And I don’t think a kid that age would follow a script if she feared for her life.”
“She’s our little ball-busting princess,” Hunter adds. “She would’ve screamed the house down at the first sound of your voice if they were hurting her.”
“Unless she’s already been beaten into submission,” Benji snaps. “How can you give up on her so easily?”
“We’re not giving up on anyone.” Hunter speaks through clenched teeth. “And before you go blaming anything else on us, you might want to take the time to remember why she was taken in the first place.”
“You know why she was taken?” I glance at Cole. “Why haven’t I been told? That information could be—”
“We’re calling it a night.” He speaks over me. “I trust that Stella and Tobias are okay for now. Hire another suite. Eat and get some rest. Tomorrow is going to be another long day.”
“Fuck you.” Benji continues toward the hall. “Fuck you all for giving up on my daughter.” He yanks the front door wide and slams it on his way out.
“Is someone going to tell me what’s happening?” I glance from one man to the next, taking in their stubborn resolve to shut me out.
“Go after him.” Cole jerks his chin at Hunter. “Make sure he doesn’t cause any trouble.”
“What about me?” Decker asks as Hunter stalks for the door. “What do you want me to do?”
“Update the women. Keep them calm. Make sure they have dinner and an early night.”
“Can I opt for being shot in the leg again instead? Don’t get me wrong, I can handle Keira, but Layla? And Sarah? Those two aren’t going to appreciate sitting on their hands for another fourteen hours. They’ll tear me to fucking pieces.”
“Do you want me to speak to them?” I ask.
Decker ignores me apart from the upturn of his nose.
“No, he can deal.” Cole makes his way out of the bedroom, passing me to stand near his younger sister’s partner. “Tell everyone to keep their cells close by. I’ll let you know if I hear anything else.”
Decker gives me a scorn-filled look before he nods and hobbles toward the hall, closing the penthouse door behind him.
Then it’s just the two of us.
Cole and I.
Alone.
Again.
17
Anissa
Cole strolls across the living area to stand before the floor-to-ceiling glass, staring down at the city below.
He doesn’t break the eerie quiet and neither do I. There’s nothing but hollow isolation until my stomach rumbles, demanding sustenance loud enough to wake the dead.
I’m not hungry, but I need to eat. My energy reserves are low. I even struggle to drag my feet to the kitchen to mumble a random selection from the room service menu to the operator.
Cole is still at the wall of glass after I hang up. His silence is in stark contrast to the storm raging through his tight posture and I can’t help wishing I could do something to gentle the turmoil.
“I hope you don’t mind me ordering you dinner.” I walk around the kitchen counter to lean against the armrest of a sofa. “I thought taking a wild guess at what you might eat would be better than asking you to make menial decisions.”
“I appreciate it.”
I hear the truth in his words. The utter fatigue.
“I should head out and get something to wear tomorrow,” he murmurs. “I have no clothes. I didn’t plan on staying overnight.”
“Is that something the concierge could organize?”
He shrugs, not meeting my gaze.
My hunger pangs turn into cramps, my insides twisting and squeezing in empathetic meltdown. “What are your sizes? I’ll get the hotel staff to arrange something.”
He relays measurements I note down in my cell, then I turn my back as I reclaim the penthouse phone. I can’t look at him anymore. Not when all I want to do is comfort him.
I’ve witnessed male suffering before. But never like this. Not with a man who prides himself on strength of character and sterility of emotion.
I distract myself with the concierge, asking about dry-cleaning timelines and personal shopper availability. This time when I hang up, I swing around to find an empty room. There’s no image of sorrowful mourning at the window. There’s not even a glimpse of the crime lord who’s battling against a devastating downfall.
“Cole?”
“In here.”
I follow his voice toward the bedroom. “The concierge said he would send someone to arrange a selection of suits for you to wear tomorrow.” I enter the doorway, finding him at the side of the bed, unbuttoning his shirt and throwing it on the mattress.
My heart quickens without my consent. My stomach twists. I force myself to look away, focusing on the closed curtains across the room. “He also mentioned you can have your current suit dry-cleaned within the hour, so I asked for him to send someone up to retrieve it.”
“Thanks.”
There’s a clink of a belt. A grate of a zipper.
My quickening heart and twisting stomach increase, my insides somersaulting like an Olympic gymnast despite my exhaustion.
“I didn’t even think about dry-cleaning,” he mutters. “I can hardly think at all.”
“That’s why you need sleep.”
“The sun has barely set.”
“But it’s currently setting the day after you last slept.” I chance a glance in his direction, and there he stands, gloriously naked except for his boxer briefs, his chest a masterpiece of tanned, defined muscles as he pulls on a hotel robe.
He cinches it tight around his waist and grabs the discarded clothes from the bed. “I’ll leave these at the door.” He starts toward me, the approaching proximity causing arrhythmia.
“Here.” I hold out my hands. “Let me do it.”
He pauses before me, meeting my gaze. I’m sure there’s skepticism hidden in those dark blue depths, resentment at my coddling, too. But he doesn’t voice a protest. Only stares, melting me into a puddle.
“Go to bed.” I reach for the clothes. “I’m going to stay awake for a while and do more research.”
“You need the rest as much as I do.” He keeps his folded suit tight within his strong hands and continues into the living room, his retreating footsteps carrying down the hall until the penthouse door opens and closes.
I have a f
ew moments to breathe freely before his dominating presence returns.
“The food shouldn’t take long.” He strides back into the room, still a sight to behold even in a plush white bathrobe. “I’m going to take a shower.”
He continues into the bathroom, not closing the door.
I remain nailed in place as the sound of rushing water seduces my ears.
I don’t know if he’s attempting to entice me, or if he’s so entirely bone-weary he doesn’t have the strength to close the barrier between us. It has to be option one. It always is.
I become entranced by the melodic flow of water, the gentle sound soothing parts of me hardened from the last twenty-four hours. I’ve showered with him before. I know what it feels like to be surrounded by warmth. And hunger. I remember how powerless I was to resist Cole when the world had faded from view and it was only the two of us.
My stomach hurts with the memory. With the lost affection.
I’d thought he was falling in love with me. I truly had.
The worst part was those feelings had been reciprocated.
I had loved a criminal.
A murderer.
And now those feelings are clawing their way back from the depths of my despair.
“No,” I whisper to the empty room. “Not again.”
I drag my feet to the living room to sit on the sofa. He’s so quiet it’s unnerving.
He remains in the shower long after our food is delivered and I’ve eaten my burger and fries. He stays in there while I fight against concern for his welfare. To the point where I’m almost ready to check on him. Then the water finally turns off.
“Your dinner is out here.” I raise my voice to carry through the rooms. “Hurry, while it’s still warm.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You need to eat.” I grab a plate filled with fries, steak and salad, along with a set of cutlery, and return to the main bedroom only to pause at the threshold.
He stands at the bed, a towel wrapped around his hips, his chiseled chest on full display as he ruffles his damp hair.