Page 68 of The Marriage Auction 2: Part 3

“That’s like calling 911 in France. Oh, good God.” He stood. “It’s from her Apple watch. Holy shit, we know where she is. The Ritz, 4th floor. Call the cops!” he called out to one of our guards.

They both instantly went into action, making calls.

“Let’s go! Now!” Rhodes grabbed my hand and practically dragged me to the car. We climbed into the back as our two guards jumped into the front and we shot off into traffic.

Rhodes pressed some buttons on his phone and then lifted it to his ear.

“We know where they are!” he spoke without offering a greeting. “The Ritz. What?” he barked. “You’re supposed to be getting medical treatment, Christophe! Fuck, okay, I get it. We’ll meet you there. We’ve already notified the authorities. We’re going to get them back!” he said with a smile on his face. He hung up the phone, lifted my hand, and kissed the top. “We’re going to get them back,” he murmured against my skin as though repeating it would somehow make it true.

* * * *

The car ride to the Ritz Paris was a hazy blur as the four of us raced through traffic at a much higher speed than everyone else. The driver laid on the horn almost the entire way until we pulled to a screeching stop behind a slew of police cars.

Once again, Rhodes jumped out of the vehicle. This time, I was hot on his heels, scanning the authorities for a little blonde head. Rhodes wasn’t so subtle. He ran at full speed through a bunch of officers standing around and straight toward the entrance of the Ritz. He was bodily stopped by a pair of officers.

The officer spoke in French but switched to English once Rhodes started talking.

“No one gets in or out. Building is locked down.”

“My daughter was kidnapped! She is in there right now. It’s my kid and her aunt. You cannot hold me back!” he roared and pushed at the officers, who did, in fact, hold him back.

“Monsieur, monsieur!” They tried to calm him as he pushed and hollered in their faces. If he didn’t lay off, they were going to arrest him.

“Rhodes!” I heard and turned around to find Christophe running in our direction. “Where are they?” he cried out as he approached at a full run. One of his arms was wrapped in a soiled bloody bandage, the rest of his sleeve soaked with crusty brown-red blood. “Where’s my wife and niece?” he added to the explosive situation.

The authorities spoke in English and French, telling Rhodes and now Christophe once again that no one was getting in or out of the building until they’d contained the scene.

“The scene? Was my daughter hurt?” Rhodes gasped, his face turning ghost white.

“Et ma femme?” Christophe roared in one of the officers faces.

I tried to grab both of their shoulders and haul them back, but they wouldn’t budge.

Out of nowhere, we heard, “Daddy!”

The three of us and the cops turned to see who was screaming, and my entire heart practically exploded with joy when I saw Emily and Alana rounding the building’s corner, several officers guarding them with guns at their sides.

“Daddy!” Emily broke away from the group, her arms out, legs moving fast as she ran toward us. Her hair was flying in the breeze, and tears were falling down her cheeks, but she was alive.

“Alana!” Christophe called out and bolted toward his wife.

Emily reached her dad, and he scooped her up and into the air, tucking his face against her neck. He trembled and shook soviolently I worried they’d fall over, but he held strong. He wasn’t letting his girl go anytime soon.

“My girl, my baby girl. I was so scared. Thank you, God! Thank you!” He held her as they both cried.

Tears tracked down my face, and I just stood and watched it all unfold, relief and happiness flooding my heart and soul.

Just behind Rhodes was Christophe who was kissing every inch of Alana’s face before, finally, her mouth. He whispered words of comfort and love in French as she nodded and smiled, tears coating his fingers as he cupped her cheeks.

“Let me look at you.” Rhodes finally sniffed and wiped his runny nose and tears against his forearm. “Are you hurt?” he asked while he ran his hands down her arms and over her back.

“No, Daddy, I’m not hurt. I’m okay. Alana kept me safe.”

“Thank God,” he croaked and pulled her back against his chest. “Maia, get over here.” He waved me over and once again, I actually felt like part of the family. I bolted into their huddle, and he hugged us together.

I kissed the top of Emily’s head. “We were so worried. Your Dad was a mess as we looked for you. We’re so, so happy to have you back,” I whispered through my own overwhelming emotions.

Emily reached her hand between us and grabbed mine, keeping me close to her and her dad. She shivered as the realization that she was safe swept through all of us.

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