Page 45 of Capturing Hearts

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Brendan

2:35 a.m.

Hanging up the phone, I slide it in my pocket and scramble around for my keys, mentally kicking myself for falling asleep. At first I can’t find them, but then I remember I went straight for the kitchen when I walked into the penthouse earlier, starving. Striding quickly in there, I snatch them up from the counter next to the refrigerator. Walking back to leave, my gaze falls on the glowing Christmas tree and I smile at the sight of it, thinking, tomorrow it’s just us and no more work. And the day after that, too, now that Annie’s agreed to not work again until the baby comes.

I can’t believe she finally agreed to that.

Grinning, I head out the door, but stop to return for my coat. “She’d have my hide if I showed up with just this shirt on,” I mutter to myself, amused and considering not bringing it, just to see her react. But I decide not to provoke her simply for my endless entertainment, and slide it onto my arms as I walk out and lock the front door. Taking the stairs as I always do when I’m alone, I hum the bars of Silent Night, the sound echoing off the staircase walls with my trumpeting footsteps.

As soon as I’m in my car, I turn on the heat to make it cozy for her, the radio turning on as loud as I left it. A D.J. says, “The manhunt is still underway. The last person to escape–” I flip the sound off. Turning the ignition, nothing happens. I stare at the dashboard, and try again. Still nothing. That’s odd. Leaning back in my seat, I look at the console to see if any of the warning lights are on, but there’s nothing out of the ordinary. I try the key again.

Must be a dead battery.

But the music came on, and the heat. I give it one more try. Nothing. Maybe a weak battery?

Jumping out of the car I glance over to Annie’s and look at my key chain. Shit. I knew I should have put her key on here. She keeps a spare in the bowl by the door, so I run back up the stairs, this time without song. Dashing into the penthouse, I find only hair ties, gum, and change there.

“She keeps her spare credit cards by the desk. It’s gotta be there,” I mutter, jogging to the desk we rarely use since both of us have offices of our own. Drawer after drawer I open, finding no keys. “Dammit! Calm down, B-man. Manny’s there with her. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Pulling out my phone, I see for the first time I’ve missed a ton of calls and messages tonight. When I was at the bar, I couldn’t hear them. I never checked my phone after I went home to eat. When Annie called after two, I picked up and didn’t see them.

For a brief second, I write off the amount of calls to people reaching out for the holidays, and I’m about to dismiss them and phone Annie to tell her I have to come get her in a cab, and to wait there. But something makes me hit the text icon, and I see five texts from Mark alone. Hitting his name, I read them.

Merry Christmas Fucker.

I just gave Nicole her gift. You were right.

B-man. Tommy escaped prison last night. Did you hear?

Yo B. I’m going to call you. It’s all over the news.

Brendan, I just called. Where you at? Hit me back.

My heart stops as I read the third one again and I hurriedly call my wife. As it rings, my body begins to shake. When voicemail picks up, I can no longer see straight, the room is spinning. I dial her again, my mouth dry. Voicemail again. I call the bar. No one picks up. I call Manny, but there’s no answer there, either. With veins slamming adrenaline into my body, I dial Knockout. Bobby answers after two rings, the music loud in the background, “Merry Christmas B-MAN! WOOHOOO!!”

“Bobby! Tommy’s escaped,” I choke out in a rasp. “I need you to go check on Annie. My car…it won’t start.” I start running for the door, crushing my phone against my ear.

He speaks over me, “What?! Wait, what? Are you serious?” He calls to one of his employees. “Hey, turn off that music!”

Barreling down the steps of our building, I gasp, “I’m dead serious. My car is dead. I’m going to run there. I can’t wait for a cab. GO NOW!”

The music cuts off abruptly. “Yeah! Okay! I can’t believe it. Wait, when?”

“Last night! It was probably him following her.”

“Oh man, Brendan. Okay. I’m sure she’s fine. Don’t worry! I’ll call you as soon as I get there!” He hangs up as I vault out of our building onto the sidewalk and break into a run.

Through the fog, I race down Mission past late-night stragglers and homeless people sleeping on the sidewalk. I go over the moments from our phone call to now. How long it took to find my keys. How I hummed and took my time leaving.

How I fell asleep when I should have been there.

How I should never have left in the first place.

A car honks and I look, hoping it’s her in a cab. But it’s a stranger honking celebration. Ignoring their wave, I keep running as fast as I can, my legs plowing so quickly I can hardly see them. After a few blocks, Bobby’s ahead in the distance, by himself waiting in front of Le Barré with his eyes on me. Fear explodes in my chest at her absence, and my mind pictures the worst. Is she inside? Is she dead on the floor inside? Tears spring to my eyes.

“Where is she?!” I come to a stop in front of him, panting. “WHERE IS SHE?!”

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