I don’t know The Omen’s phone number. Going for the only one I’ve known for years, I punch in the digits as fast as I can hoping he will answer an unknown call.
“Ramos sperm bank, you squeeze it, we freeze it,” Oren’s voice sing-songs in amusement on the other line after the third ring.
I bite back a snort, because of course the stupid fuck would answer unknown calls like that.
“O,” I say, glad to hear my friend’s voice right now no matter how annoyed I am with him. “They got her.”
It’s the only thing I can say as desperation wreaks havoc in my throbbing mind. I fall to my knees, hearing something break and Oren curses, then the sound of a door slamming as his breaths become deeper through the phone. He’s running, and hopefully, he’s at The Omen Mansion and not his house.
“I’ll tell the Boss, just get home—“
“They blew up the car,” I interrupt before he can continue. “I found a ride to get to the hangar, just need the jet.”
Oren curses again. “On it.”
The line goes silent, and I look at the terrified man standing over me.
“How about you get some IVs flowing and fill me up on some pain medication while you take me to the airport, yeah?”
The paramedic swallows thickly, then nods his head. His gaze shifts to his partner and they both swoop in on me, pulling me to my feet and getting me on the gurney I hadn’t noticed beside me.
2
Nathaniel
Thehouseisquietwithout Malia home, the atmosphere almost suffocating with the looking so heavy in the air. In the past, I sent her to stay with the Castellos when things became too tough with her mother. Over time, I recognized the signs to prevent things from happening before Tawny could act out against our daughter.
Regret weighs in my veins like lead as I stare at my desk in the quietness of my office. My part of the mansion has always been silent, just the way I like it. Malia’s personality, of course, creates its own natural chaos that charges the very energy of our home.
Her chaotic energy has always been my calm, though I never realize how much until it is no longer there. Her havoc is always on full display, while I suppress mine. For so many years it has been buried in the deepest parts of me, scratching at the surface to be unleashed.
I smile to myself, thinking about my bullheaded little girl, the girl who challenges me every step of the way. That hellcat of a girl I raised, who found a match in my best friend’s son.
The latch on the door unlocks pulling me from my thoughts, Chantelle walks through and quietly shuts it behind her. It has been weeks since the bombing of my strip club and I am thankful she survived it nearly unscathed. Most of her scratches and wounds have healed, aside from a few bruises that remain.
Chantelle saunters across the room, her chin held high with purpose. This woman has my balls in her grasp and it is a dangerous thing that she knows it. I quirk an eyebrow when she sits in front of me on my desk, reaching out to pull on my shirt and roll me closer. I settle between her thighs, letting my hands rest on her hips.
I take Chantelle in as she eyes me quietly, thinking about whatever it is she’s here for. She is wearing one of my button-up shirts and a pair of Malia’s leggings. It has been long enough that we should have collected her clothes from her house by now, but I prefer her like this. Dressed down in my shirt.
“What’s on your mind, Little Bird?” I ask, breaking the silence and craving the sound of her voice.
Chantelle worries her bottom lip and I immediately know where this is going to go. Her best friend has been missing since the bombing and we have several bodies that are still unidentified.
“I can’t just sit here, Nate, not while my best friend is missing.” She breathes deeply, like the thought that she might never see her again is too much to bear. “Letty, she’s been running…we’vebeen running for years. She could be freaked and hiding.”
Her green eyes lift to mine, and the fear and hurt I see in them tighten my chest.
My Little Bird has not filled me in on much of her past, her running is mostly to keep her friend out of trouble. Chantelle has a good relationship with her parents but, when a bird finds its wings, it needs to fly. Letty did not grow up as lucky, and the pair flocked together and ran the country. From dive bars to strip clubs, then onto the next city, never straying too long.
It will be interesting to see how she breaks the news to her parents that she is with a man nearly twenty years older than their beloved daughter. I cannot say I would be thrilled, myself, as a parent.
“Your friend can’t hide from me, it doesn’t matter how good she is. There’s only been one person who has been able to elude me, none other.”
I leave unspoken the alternative , which weighs heavy between us.
“Then that means—“
I pull her into my lap, silencing her words before she speaks them into existence. Chantelle’s hands twist tighter around my shirt, bringing me as close to her as possible while she melts into my hold.