Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 135382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
Brody sat back in his chair, his son wrapped up in his arms. Somehow he hadn’t been able to drop Nathan off at daycare when Liam had dropped off Aidan. Since he’d woken and found the bodyguards drugged and Stephanie missing, the only way he’d been able to keep himself together had been focusing on Nate.
He’d woken to Nate crying out, needing a change. He hadn’t been shocked that Steph wasn’t with him. He’d rather thought she’d gotten up to prep the morning bottle their son’s endlessly hungry gut required. He’d changed the nappy and gone looking for Steph.
He’d found what looked like bodies at first. It had taken him a moment to realize they weren’t dead and Steph wasn’t among them.
Nate had kept him calm, kept him from raging the way he wanted to.
Nate had kept him from walking out because he was so bloody angry that he wanted to.
“I didn’t leave her alone for more than a few minutes, O’Donnell. I scarcely think he had time to hatch a plan with her,” Brody replied. “More than likely this was her plan in the first place and she somehow convinced Tucker to take her where she needed to go.”
Which was probably wherever de Vries wanted her to go. Somehow she’d figured it all out and decided she didn’t trust anyone but herself to save Anya.
“Why the hell would Tucker do that?” O’Donnell asked.
“Because he’s an idiot.” Brody could feel how tight his voice was, but he managed to keep it low, not wanting to frighten his son.
His boy. Steph had left him behind too. She’d walked away from them both because her guilt meant more to her than her family.
Anger welled, but there was something deeper, something he couldn’t acknowledge because if he did, he might break into a million pieces.
Grief. Grief that she couldn’t love him the way he loved her. Grief that she would rather die than fight. Grief that they couldn’t have the life they might have because she had never forgiven herself.
That was what it came down to.
“What do we know?” Taggart strode into the room. “I’ve been trying to get those fuckers on the line but surprisingly the number goes straight to voice mail. I think we can conclude that last night’s cooperation was complete bullshit. I’ve loaded that voicemail of Fedor’s up with graphic stories about what I plan to do to every man in his syndicate if Stephanie isn’t back here safe and sound in a few hours. I hope they understand English because they were highly descriptive words.”
Brody could only imagine what Taggart had threatened them with. It wouldn’t matter if Steph had done all of this on her own, and he needed to point that out. “And if she chose this path?”
O’Donnell put his hands on his hips, staring down at him. “She didn’t choose this.”
“Uhm, then who roofied me?” Declan asked with a groan. “Because I didn’t do it myself.”
“I’m with Dec on this one,” Shane added. “I seriously doubt the sedative she gave us accidently fell into my coffee mug.”
The doors to the conference room opened and Avery walked in. The rest of the office was quiet, with only a few of the operatives in. Jake and Adam were somewhere trying to go through security footage. Charlotte was making calls to her contacts in Russia to see if anyone could get a read on Fedor Shadrova or de Vries. A few of the bodyguards had taken an early flight to Loa Mali with the royals to deal with a crisis there.
Brody felt oddly alone without Steph or Tucker. Bastard. He’d grown fond of the bloke and now he was going to have to have a long talk with Damon about him. He was dangerously unstable if he could be convinced that this was the way to handle a situation where a client made a mistake.
A mistake? Or had she been looking for a chance like this for a long time?
“You two should know better,” Taggart said with a frown.
“Know better than to drink coffee when we’re trying to stay up all night?” Shane asked.
“I told you I can do the same thing with Scotch, and I’m way friendlier. I’m good after a couple of drinks. Better shot, too,” Declan added. “Also, I have my own flask, hence not a chance of getting my ass roofied.”
“Or you could roofie yourself until your system gets used to it. You should do that with a list of frequently used poisons as well if you’re going to survive in this business. If she’d tried that shit with me, she would have had a very different outcome.” Taggart sat back like he’d imparted great wisdom on the world.
“I fear what your liver looks like.” Shane took the mug Avery offered him. And then stopped, staring at her for a moment.