Kidnapped by the Billionaire (39 page)

Fuck, he was a dumb bastard. If anything had happened to her …

This is what happens when you care. You should never have let her get close.

Ruthlessly he shoved that thought to one side. He couldn't dwell on his feelings or otherwise now, he had to find her first.

Pushing open the doors of the redbrick apartment building, he stepped into the foyer. Only to find Woolf, Rutherford, and St. James coming out of an elevator, their faces hard and set.

“Where the fuck is she?” Elijah demanded, tightening his grip on his Colt.

There was a look of pure fury on Woolf's face. “She wasn't there.”

“What do you mean ‘she wasn't there'?”

Rutherford held out his hand and sitting in the middle of his palm was a tiny wire, fine as silver thread. “The tracking device. They removed it and her phone, and left them for us to find as a decoy.”

The ball of ice sitting in the pit of Elijah's stomach began to grow sharp spikes. “Then where the fuck is she?”

Woolf was staring murder at him. “Don't you know? You were the one who was intending to use her as bait for this Jericho cocksucker. Did you give her to him?”

Elijah met the other man's gaze, trying to keep his own anger and gradually deepening fear in check. There was a flame in Woolf's eyes, burning hot.

He wants the same as you. Violet safe.

It seemed too strange to acknowledge that he and this bastard shared a common goal because he wasn't used to sharing. Then again, hadn't he been doing the same with Violet the past couple of days? If he could let her help him, then maybe he and this prick could do the same.

“No, I didn't,” he said coldly, resisting the urge to lift his gun and just start shooting. “In fact I wanted to protect her.”

Woolf laughed, the look in his eyes feral. “Really? Wonderful fucking job you're doing of it so far.”

“Jesus,” St. James sighed. “How about we concentrate on the important stuff instead of comparing dick sizes? Like figuring out where the hell Violet is?”

Rutherford folded his fingers over the bit of silver wire, clenching his hand into a fist. “Where's Eva? I have an idea about how we might be able to track what happened to Violet.”

Elijah didn't want to, he really didn't, but his gut instinct was telling him that if he wanted to get to Violet, he was going to have to work with these people. He'd have to keep his rage in check and put his gun away.

Fuck. He'd been on his own too long. This kind of working together shit was foreign to him.

“She's out in the alley across the street.” He did it—he put away the Colt, despite the anger that pulled at him, the desperate feeling that every second he stood here was another second lost, another second that might find Violet closer to death.

Like Marie. You waited too long. You were passive too long.

Without another word, he turned toward the doors to the apartment building and went through them, not caring whether the others followed him or not.

No more waiting. No more fucking around.

Katya and Eva were still beside the SUV, looking worried as Elijah strode up to them.

“Where's Violet?” Eva demanded.

“They took the tracking device out and left it there,” Elijah snapped. “Rutherford said he had an idea about how you could track her.”

Eva's gaze flickered behind him and he heard the footsteps of the other men approach. “Yeah, I know what he means.” Then, to Rutherford, “You want me to see if I can hack into a cell phone tower and get a signal?”

“I'm not asking, angel,” the clipped English voice behind Elijah said. “I know you can.”

A smile flashed over her face, bright as summer lightning. “Give me a couple of minutes. The laptop's in the car.”

Elijah turned to face the Brit, while Katya moved over toward St. James, blonde brows drawn down.

Rutherford's gaze was completely expressionless.

“Cell phone towers?” Elijah asked him. “You want to track a cell phone signal?”

“Yes. We might be able to see who was entering or exiting the building around the time the tracking signal stopped there. If we're lucky there'll only be a couple of people, and we can track their signals.”

“Then we find them and hopefully find Violet?”

“We'll certainly find whoever put the tracking device there, which'll give us a lead.”

The only lead they had. Which meant he was stuck here until Eva managed to work her IT magic. Fucking great.

“Who took her?” St. James asked. His tone was neutral, but Elijah didn't miss the undercurrent of threat.

“How the fuck should I know?” Elijah pushed his fingers into the pockets of his jeans to stop them from reaching for his Colt. “I met with Jericho. Shot him like I meant to. Next minute she was gone.”

“Had to be him,” Woolf growled, pacing like a caged animal. “Who else could it be?”

“This asshole just shot him,” St. James pointed out. “How could it be him?”

But a suspicion that had been slowly turning over in Elijah's brain suddenly solidified into fact. “It wasn't him,” he said roughly and with extreme reluctance.

Fuck. How could he have been so stupid? He'd known something wasn't right, but he'd wanted to take that shot at the man who'd been instrumental in his wife's death, had been so desperate that he'd ignored his instincts completely.

Woolf stopped dead, looking at him. “What do you mean ‘it wasn't him'?”

Elijah made himself go on. “Jericho wanted Violet, don't ask me why, I don't know and I didn't care. As far as I was concerned, she was bait and if he wanted her, that's all that mattered. But when I got there and I met him … something wasn't right. He didn't even look at her. Not even once, and that's not what a man does when he wants a woman.”

The other men were silent, but Elijah could feel the force of their combined attention like the pressure of a hand pressing down on him.

“I demanded proof of who he was,” Elijah went on, “but he refused. Then he demanded Violet. And I knew if I gave her to him, I'd lose the fucker.”

“So what? You shot him anyway?” Woolf's voice was heavy with scorn. “You shot a minion and then Jericho took her all the same.”

The big, spiked ball of ice was like razor wire now, cutting into him.

You lost her. You wanted revenge and you lost her.

And it hurt. It just fucking hurt and he didn't understand why. This felt like when he'd lost Marie, a woman he'd loved …

Elijah shut down the thought before it had had a chance to take root and grow. Crushed it flat. Killed it. There was no love. Love led to destruction and he would never let it near him again.

“Yes,” he said coldly, flatly, staring into the other man's dark eyes. Challenging him. “Which means it's up to me to take her back.”

“Fuck that,” Woolf spat. “I'm her half brother—”

“And I'm the one who's been dealing with Jericho up till now,” he interrupted, his voice harsh. “I may not have met him but I know him and his operation better than any of you. You want Violet to have the best shot at getting out? Then you'd better let me get her.”

There was a tense, highly uncomfortable silence.

Woolf was looking at Elijah like he wanted to shoot him right where he stood. Yeah, well, the feeling was fucking mutual.

“He's right, Gabe,” Rutherford said unexpectedly. “We don't know Jericho, we don't know his men or the way he operates.”

“And this prick does?” Woolf stood there glowering, fury gathering about him like a storm.

Elijah ignored it. “I know better than you. Fitzgerald's been dealing with him for the past six months, like I told you before.”

“Yeah, and what the fuck do you know anyway?”

A very good point, not that Elijah would let Woolf know that. Because truth was, he didn't really know. No one did. Because Jericho never dealt with anyone directly—he was famous for it—only operating via a series of go-betweens.

So what the hell did you think was happening in Battery Park? Did you really think he was going to front up?

But he'd had no choice to believe it, had he? He'd wanted to believe … because as soon as he'd seen that fucker, he'd seen the finish line. The end to all this rage, this pain, this grief he couldn't get rid of no matter how hard he tried. No matter how deeply he managed to convince himself.

He'd seen the moment he could pull that trigger and it would finally all stop. Marie would be avenged and at last, at last, he could end it. He could rest. Find peace.

But it wasn't the end, was it? Not when they'd taken Violet.

You have to find her. You'll never find peace until you find her.

No, he wouldn't. Because she was his peace.

A part of him fought the realization, the knowledge that settled down through his bones and into his soul. Fought desperately. But he couldn't deny it, not anymore. In the brief time they'd had together, she'd changed him and changed him irrevocably. Her caring, generous spirit and her courage. The way she touched him like he was precious, even after everything he'd done to her.

He wasn't the same. And though this couldn't be love, not when he'd made so sure that love would never be part of his life again, he needed her. If this was ever to stop, if all of this was ever to end, he needed her.

Elijah met Woolf's dark gaze. Held it. “What do I know? I know that I'll die before I let anything happen to her. And I'll die to protect her if I have to. That good enough for you, motherfucker?”

Surprise flared in the other man's eyes and a long, dense silence stretched out between them.

Then Woolf said, “Yeah, asshole, I guess that'll do.”

It was reluctant, but it was something.

The silence was broken by the sound of the door of the SUV slamming as Eva got out, carrying her laptop. “And I think we have a winner.” She was grinning. “Anyone feel like visiting Alphabet City?”

“What's in Alphabet City, angel?” Rutherford folded his arms.

Eva came over with the laptop, pushing the screen back a little so everyone could see. “There was only one cell phone signal that entered the building just before the tracking device stopped moving, then exited it just after. And that's this one here.”

A map rotated on the screen, the orientation spinning as Eva's fingers moved on the track pad, manipulating then zooming in on the location.

Elijah stared at the map, memorizing it, then finally, he reached for his Colt. “I'm going and I'm going alone.” He stared around at the rest of them. “Anyone got any fucking objection?”

*   *   *

Violet felt like the earth had shifted beneath her feet, as if she'd been in a violent earthquake and the landscape that had once been familiar had now changed beyond recognition.

And the ground was still moving.

“No.” She said it reflexively, her voice sounding tinny and strange. “That's ridiculous.”

The terrible weariness in her brother's eyes lingered for a moment, then his long, gold lashes descended. When they lifted, the weariness was gone, replaced by a gentle understanding that almost broke her heart. “I'm sorry, Peanut. But it's true.”

Her mind reeled, unable to process it. Theo was Jericho. A crime lord heavily involved in the sex trafficking business, drugs, and who knew what other crimes.

It just … didn't make any sense.

“Why?” she demanded suddenly. “How? Elijah told me that Dad wanted to give me to Jericho, that he was trying to—”

“Yes,” Theo interrupted, that gentleness lining his tone as soft as cotton balls, as if she was fragile, breakable, and he was trying to keep her safe. “That's what I meant when I said I've been trying to get you away from him for months. I was going to give him some new trade routes in exchange for you.”

Horror unreeled through her at the words ‘trade routes.' Like they were talking about actual goods and not human beings. “I didn't need you to get me away.” Her voice shook. “And certainly not at the expense of people's lives!”

He didn't protest, just looked at her with terrible sadness. And she understood that part of her had been waiting for him to deny it, to tell her it wasn't true. But he didn't.

“Some things are worth the sacrifice,” he said softly, as if that explained everything. “He would never have let you go, Vi. Surely you know that.”

Maybe she did. Maybe deep in her soul she'd always known. But her life in exchange for all those women? Those ‘trade routes'? No. Never. “‘Trade routes,' Theo? You do know what Dad wanted those routes for?”

He smiled, rueful. Sad. “Of course I know. What do you think I've been doing for the past ten years or so?”

Her throat closed up, grief crushing in her chest. “Why?” She could barely get the words out. “Why would you do such a thing? Why would you involve yourself? That's not the Theo I know.”

“That's the thing, Peanut,” he said softly, his expression full of dreadful sympathy. “I'm not the Theo you knew. Not anymore.”

At that point a man came through the doorway, some big guy in a suit, the coldest expression she'd ever seen on his face. “We need to move, sir,” he said, his voice tinged with some kind of European accent Violet couldn't place. “We've already been here too long.”

Theo glanced at him and then said something in what sounded like German. The man responded, but Violet couldn't follow what either of them was saying. She'd picked up quite a bit of French while she'd been in Paris, but German not so much.

“What's happening?” she demanded as the man, clearly a henchman of some kind, began to turn away. “I'm not going, you do realize that, don't you?”

Theo was looking down at his phone again. “I'm sorry, Vi, but you don't get a choice.”