Page 71 of Knot Beneath the Mistletoe

“She didn’t show up to work yesterday.” Ash runs his hands over his face. He looks like hell, with dark circles under his eyes and hair a mess. “Thought maybe she was sick, you know? But she’s not at home, not answering her phone. Lily, her best friend, hasn’t heard from her, either, and trust me, that girl would know.”

“When’s the last time you saw her?” Dominic’s voice is deadly calm, but I know that tone. It’s the one that makes smart people start running.

“The day before last, at closing. She was...” Ash shakes his head, swallowing hard. “Man, she was devastated. Like, I’ve known Ruby for years, seen her through some shit, but this was different.”

Knox makes a sound like he’s been punched. I know exactly how he feels. My chest hasn’t stopped aching for days.

“She gave each of you a piece of herself,” Ash continues, looking at each of us in turn. “Her heart. And finding out about the setup? That broke something in her. She’s spent years building walls, protecting herself, and you guys? You got through them. All three of you.”

“We didn’t mean to hurt her,” I say, my voice rougher than intended. “We wanted to have her experience something real, not a fucking blind date. Something real in the way she met us.”

Knox quietly nods, still staring out the window.

Dominic stands abruptly, phone already in hand. “I’m calling my team. We’ll access every camera in town, track her movements. Something will show up.” His fingers fly over the screen. “I’ll head to the office now.”

“Knox and I are paying Marcus a visit,” I announce, already grabbing my jacket.

“I’m coming with you,” Ash starts, but Knox cuts him off with a flick of his hand.

“No. We need you at the bar in case she shows up or tries to contact you.” I pull out one of my business cards, scrawling my personal number on the back. “Call me immediately if you hear anything. Anything at all.”

Minutes later, we’re in Knox’s massive SUV, chains on the tires crunching through fresh snow. The streets are still busy with evening traffic, brake lights glowing red through the swirling white. Knox is driving more carefully than I’d like, but even I have to admit, the roads are treacherous.

“We should have gone to her sooner,” Knox mutters, knuckles white on the steering wheel. “Should have camped outside her door until she talked to us.”

“If that bastard Marcus touched her...” I let the threat hang in the air. We all know what that piece of shit is capable of. Dominic’s background check had turned up enough red flags to cover a firing range.

“We’ll bury him,” Knox says simply, and coming from him, it carries extra weight.

The investment firm’s building looms ahead of us, all glass and steel. Normally, I’d appreciate the architecture, maybe note how it would look on a beer label. Right now, all I can think is that Marcus better be in there somewhere.

I’m through the revolving doors and halfway across the marble lobby before Knox can even park. The receptionist startles as I approach, probably because I look like I’m about to commit murder. Which, depending on what I learn here, isn’t entirely off the table.

“Marcus Winter. Where is he?”

She blinks up at me, manicured fingers hovering over her keyboard. “I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t?—”

“Now.” The word comes out as a growl. Behind me, I hear footsteps, and I turn to see Knox approaching.

“Is there a problem here?” A deep voice cuts through the tension. I twist back around to find an older man approaching us at reception, white hair perfectly styled, wearing a pinned suit. Two security guards flank him, but they’re hanging back, watching.

“Douglas Sterling,” he says, extending his hand. “I own Sterling Capital Partners. And you are on my premises…”

“Garrett Reynolds.” I accept his handshake. “I need to speak with Marcus. Now.”

His eyes narrow slightly, taking in my flannel shirt and jacket, my worn jeans, and the brewery logo on my jacket. There’s something calculating in his gaze.

“Perhaps we should discuss this privately.” He gestures toward a hallway.

Knox steps forward. “We’re not leaving without answers.”

Sterling’s expression doesn’t change, but something in his posture shifts. “Follow me.”

His office is exactly what you’d expect—all mahogany and leather, with a view of the mountains that most likely makes him feel like the king of the world. I remain standing even when he motions to the chairs.

“Ruby Winters is missing,” I say without preamble. “And your stepson has been threatening her for months.”

That gets his attention as one of his thick eyebrows arches. “Missing? Explain.”

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