Page 25 of Jericho

"Makes sense," I mutter, looking down at the notebook.

I have a million things I want to say to this man. Hundreds of things I've thought up and have run through my head since he was in here not long ago, but I can't seem to find a jumping-off point that wouldn't end with him telling me to shut the fuck up.

"What did they find?"

He tilts his head but it isn't in confusion. He doesn't want to tell me, but I think it has more to do with sparing me than not disclosing information he doesn't think I need.

"Jericho, please?"

He narrows his eyes at me but doesn't challenge me not to call him what I heard the other man call him.

After a deep inhale, he speaks, and part of me wishes he would've just turned around and left.

"It was a house, not a school. It had four bedrooms. One room with a single bed. We suspect it was for whoever was tasked with keeping them there. There were two sets of bunk beds in each of the other three rooms."

"Twelve kids?"

My knees threaten to give out on me, and as I stumble back looking for the bed, he doesn't reach out for me.

"He has taken twelve kids?"

"We know there were twelve beds," he says."Anything would help," he says, pointing to the notebook in my hands. "Don't leave anything out because you think it might be too small to house that many people. They could be in a one-bedroom shack in Rhode Island somewhere."

"Rhode Island? Where was the place Eli was at?"

"We don't know if he was there. There was no identifying information in the house."

"Where?" I snap, hating that he keeps talking me around in circles when there's no harm in answering my questions.

"The house was in Hartford."

"Connecticut?"

He dips his head, and I swear I'd collapse if I weren't already sitting down.

"He's been two hours away this entire time?" Fresh tears stream down my face.

I imagined him being at some boarding school in Switzerland. I knew I had to make some serious plans to get to him, but all it would've taken was stealing a car and driving two fucking hours?

"There's nothing you could've done," he says before turning around and leaving the room.

I don't see it as him trying to make me feel better, but at the same time, I don't see it as a way for him to tell me that I'm weak either. Damien Gaines is a formidable opponent for anyone wanting to go up against him because he doesn't know when to back down. The man is more than willing to die to defend his pride. When he's faced with having to fight for something he really wants, he pulls no punches.

It's what has kept him on top all this time. People are terrified to cross him because he's willing to die to settle a fucking argument over the best flavor of aged cheese. The psychosis in that keeps people at arm's length.

I flip open the notebook and stare down at the blank pages. Now is not the time to realize just how unobservant I've been in my life, but it slaps me in the face anyway. I've been chauffeured around all my life. I don't have a driver's license and I have never even sat behind the steering wheel of a vehicle. I know this has more to do with keeping me dependent on the men in my life than anything else, but I also know it has left me vulnerable.

While being taken from one place to the other, I never really counted the turns or paid much attention to any of it. I knew that if I were put in danger, the man driving me could die. He knew it as well, so I had absolute confidence in them.

I don't know addresses any more than I know who owned the houses we've vacationed in.

Despite all of this, I write down all that I can think of. I list the place we stayed for our honeymoon, an elegant beachside resort in Cabo. I scrawl out the description of the house we stayed in when we visited the mountains in Colorado, but I can't remember the name of the little town we stayed in.

I toss the notebook and pen to the comforter and squeeze my hands into fists in frustration. I'm fucking useless. I can't even help myself let alone a team of men looking for Eli. I've felt like a failure many times over, but none has hit me as hard as the way I'm feeling right now.

Eli has been moved, and I don't know if that was two weeks ago or if Jericho's team got there an hour late. Either way, I'm the one responsible. Did I get too close to the information in the office that day last week? Did he move him out of precaution?Does he bounce the child all over the place? Was Eli ever at the house they searched?

These are all questions I may never get an answer for, and as much as I want to blame Jericho, I'm the one who made the only decision I thought I had to years ago. I lied to a man I hate to protect the child of a man I'd love until the day I died, and in doing that, I put both of our lives in danger.

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