“She left it at our apartment,” I remind them.
“Not like he’d let her have her phone,” Winston adds.
“We’re going to the deli to get her,” I tell my brother. “She’s in Bishop’s Landing.”
“Makes sense,” Winston murmurs with a nod. “Since that’s whereheis.”
“They’re taking their own car.” I wave a hand toward Charlotte’s brothers. “You want to ride with me?”
“I’ll stay here. Keep in touch with Myron. Let Mother know what’s going on. She keeps texting me. You know she’ll say the Morellis are involved, with Charlotte being in Bishop’s Landing.”
“Maybe she’s right.” I shrug, not really caring anymore.
“I don’t think she is. But we can discuss that another time.” Winston’s gaze meets mine and he inclines his head. “Go get your girl. And if Myron gives me any information in regards to Seamus’s location, I’ll let you know.”
“Thanks, Winny. For all of your help.” Anticipation buzzes through my veins. I need to get out of here. I’m too eager to get to my wife and pull her into my arms. And never let her go.
Never let her out of my damn sight again.
I trust no one. Not even her brothers. The only way I’ll feel Charlotte is safe is if she’s with me.
“You okay to drive?” Grant asks me as we take the elevator to the parking garage. “I hear you can be—reckless behind the wheel.”
Grimacing, I avert my head so he can’t see my expression. Great. He probably did a little investigation into my background and learned of my street racing days. “That was a long time ago.”
“Just don’t do anything stupid,” Grant mutters.
I turn on him, hating how he talks to me like I’m a little kid. Reminds me of how Winston used to treat me—like I was a complete idiot who could barely function, which back then, was sort of the truth.
“You’ve got that oldest brother, complete asshole thing down pat, don’t you?” I taunt.
Finn makes anoooohnoise when Grant turns on me, his expression cold as ice. “What the hell did you just say to me?”
“You keep telling me what to do like you control me, when you don’t. I know how to drive. And I know how to treat Charlotte. She’s my wife. And right now, her safety is the most important thing to me. So don’t worry. I won’t drive recklessly, or do anything stupid. Not when my wife is in the car. Understood?”
Grant doesn’t look away, and neither do I. The elevator comes to a stop, the doors sliding open revealing the parking garage and still neither of us move. Finn shoves into Grant first, causing him to look away from me, and I can’t help the triumph slipping through me.
“You guys are ridiculous,” Finn mutters as we split off in the parking garage. “See ya at the deli,” he calls to me. “Already sent you the address.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket, right on cue.
I say nothing. Just jog toward my Chevelle and hop into the driver’s seat, pleased the engine starts with a satisfying roar. I’m guessing Grant drives a Mercedes. Something sleek and expensive and with a powerful engine. I’m sure he drives fast and takes corners with a quick flick of his wrist.
I do that too, but with my powerful V8 and loud muffler—and I can’t forget the flashy orange paint. I not only want everyone to see me, I want them to hear me coming too.
Can’t sneak up in the Chevelle, oh no. And that’s okay. I want my wife to know I’m coming to her rescue. I want her to hear my engine and know it’s me. Hell, I’d love it if the sound of my car pulling up to the curb made her pussy wet.
As long as that pussy gets wet for no one else but me, we’re good.
***
The drive toBishop’s Landing takes way too damn long and I pulled ahead of the Lancasters in Grant’s BMW—damn it I was close with my guess—long ago, when we were still in the city.
God knows where they’re at now.
By the time I’m cruising the familiar streets, rain has started to fall. Within minutes, I’m pulling up to the curb in front of the deli, putting the car into park and shutting off the ignition, sitting there with my thoughts for a moment while I listen to the engine tick.
She might not be happy to see me, and I’m trying to prepare myself to be cool with it. Which is fine, I get it. We’re not that close.