Page 87 of Unveiled

I’m at a loss on where to even start this time. There are no men to capture and torture information out of, no one to follow, no way to track her. She’s vanished into thin air again.

The longer I go without having Ainsley in my arms, the bigger the hole in my chest gets. I feel empty without her, but I can’t think about that. I need to be brave for her and figure this out. I’m her only hope.

My men are scouring Guerra’s compound, looking for any clue my father may have left behind. My fingers are crossed that they’ll find something, but it’s not going to be the only thing I rely on.

“Call the tech guy,” I bark at Jonah, not caring how demanding I sound right now. “Have them track any property that belongs to my father, under his actual name and any aliases he used. Have them compile a list of all the properties, and then have them compile a separate list of any abandoned properties within a fifty-mile radius.”

It won’t be that easy.

I know it won’t be, but it’s a start. And I have to start somewhere.

Jonah nods his head and pulls his phone out as he walks away from me, getting to work. I check my phone, hoping for any updates from my men, but there’s nothing.

Ainsley’s tracker was abandoned within ten miles of the bar. He could still be driving and be in a different state for all I know, but something tells me he wouldn’t have driven much further. He would have wanted to get to shelter and hide the car as quickly as possible to avoid getting caught.

It’s easy to get into his mindset. He raised me, after all, and taught me how to be good at my job. Everything he knows, I know. It’s what I hope will inevitably be his downfall.

I won’t have long. He won’t keep her this time, especially since he’s on his own. He’ll get rid of her as quickly as possible, which means every minute is precious. The second that list of properties is in my hands, I’ll be on my way. Any of my men that aren’t already dedicated to searching Guerra’s compound will be given their own section of the list so we can get through it as quickly as possible. If I’m lucky, Ainsley will be in my arms again by this time tomorrow.

Chapter 36

Ainsley

“Ilove you, Ainsley.”

Bang.

Bang.

The shots ring through my head, dragging me back to the days when I thought I was listening to Cain’s last moments. My tears have dried, and the fight in me has died. The video did exactly what he wanted it to do, but just in case it didn’t, he threatened to make me watch Cain get shot.

I’ve seen the scar. Traced it with my finger, wept over the pain I know he felt to protect me. Maybe I deserve to be tortured by the image of him being shot after everything I’ve put him through, but I just can’t bring myself to see it.

I know he’s alive. Alive, healthy, and most likely pissed that this is happening all over again. He’ll go through hell and back to find me, that much I don’t doubt. Rationally, I know he’s out there somewhere, using every resource he has to find me.

But something tells me his resources won’t be enough.

His father will be smarter this time, and more discreet since he’s alone.

I don’t even know where we are. We could be on the outskirts of town or hours away. My heart cries out for Cain as I tuck my knees into my chest, wishing I could wrap my arms around them instead of leaving them dangling from the chains.

The door suddenly bursts open, interrupting the silence that was driving me mad. The sickening features of Cain’s father, twisted with the wicked smile painted on his face, come into view.

“I’m going to unchain your wrists, and you’re going to remember why you’ve been on your best behavior,” he sneers at me as he gets closer. I think about biting him when his arms are resting next to my head, working on undoing the chains, but the thought of his disgusting flesh in my mouth nearly makes me vomit.

As soon as my arms are free, they fall like dead weights to my sides. I couldn’t lift them even if I wanted to. Pain stabs through them as blood rushes back, making tears form in my eyes as I try to suppress my reaction. He grabs me under the armpits and forces me to stand next to the bed. His hands stop supporting me before my legs are ready for my weight on them, making me stumble back into the bed.

He growls at me, a deadly gleam in his eyes, and I force my body to do as I command.

“You look disgusting,” he sneers once I’m finally able to stand. I want to scoff at him, but I control myself. Because of him, I’m sure my hair is matted with blood. I can feel the bruising on the side of my face from where he slammed me into the window, the blood on my neck is caked onto my skin, and my dress is filthy.

“No matter,” he says, brushing off his disgust. “The people I’m sending pictures to won’t be treating you any better, so they may enjoy seeing you in such a state.”

He steps back further, taking in the full sight of me. His eyes rake over me, from head to toes and back up again multiple times. Each time his eyes make another pass along my body, my stomach churns, reminding me how disgusting this is.

As if I could forget.

“Would you like to get out of that dress, maybe slip on something more comfortable?”

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