Page 88 of Saved By the Boss

Fabian crouches in front of me, his smile widening as he takes in my fear. “You’ve caused me quite a bit of trouble, you know,” he says softly, caressing the side of my face in a way that makes me jolt.

“I’ve kept my word. I’ve never said a thing about that day,” I tell him.

He shakes his head. “Still, you’re a loose end and loose ends make me nervous. I don’t like being nervous. So I’m here to make sure you can never cause me any trouble ever again.”

26

Declan

The restaurant looks nothing like it did when I walked in earlier. What was once a quiet, greasy little diner has been completely transformed into a war room. Patrick paid off the owner and staff to take off for a while. They were more than happy to oblige, and for once, I didn’t resent Patrick’s methods of getting things taken care of.

Men in suits pack every corner of the space, their voices low and intense as they bark into phones, hunch over laptops, and exchange clipped updates. The faint smell of burnt coffee still lingers in the air, but it’s drowned out by the tension buzzing like static electricity. Every so often, a voice rises above the din, spitting orders or frustration, but for the most part, it’s a low hum of controlled chaos.

Patrick is at the center of it all, standing by the round table with his sleeves rolled up and his tie loosened. He’s the calm in the eye of the storm, his voice steady as he speaks to one of his men. But there’s an edge to him, a quiet intensity that I haven’t seen in years. This isn’t just business to him. This is personal.

Because of me. Because, despite everything, we’re still brothers and he cares about the people I care about. For a moment, I feel sad for all the time I’ve stayed hidden from him, thinking he was the cause of the greatest pain in my life. Yet here he is, using all of his available resources to help find the woman I’m in love with. I barely even had to ask. He sprang into action the moment he knew about the situation.

I’ve spent the last hour trying not to think about what might be happening to her, but every time I close my eyes, I see her face. I remember our conversation last night, her laughter, her tears, the way she looked at me this morning like I was someone worth trusting. Like she hadn’t had anyone to trust in a very long time.

I’ve spent the last five years avoiding getting close to people, telling myself it’s safer that way. But now, all I can think about is her, and the thought of losing her feels like a blade twisting in my chest. It’s worse than Cassidy even, because I know there’s something I can do to stop it. Cassidy’s death was sudden, unavoidable, but Jade is somewhere in danger, still alive. At least I hope.

Patrick looks up as I approach, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly. “Declan,” he says, his tone even. “Good. I was about to call you over.”

I glance around the room, taking in the sheer number of men Patrick has mobilized.

“You’re not wasting any time,” I say, my voice low.

“Time is a luxury we don’t have,” he replies, gesturing for me to join him at the table. “They have a head start, and if what we’re hearing is true, they don’t plan to keep her alive for long.”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut, but I force myself to stay calm. Panicking won’t help Jade. Action will.

“What do we know?” I ask, pulling out the chair beside him and sitting down.

Patrick glances at one of his men, a wiry guy in his late thirties with glasses perched on his nose. The man nods, his fingers flying over the keyboard of his laptop.

“We’ve been following chatter from a contact in LA,” he says, not looking up. “There’s an Irish gang member who’s been working within the Mexican gang for a while now. Says he overheard something about a group coming to this town to find a girl. The priority was bringing her in alive, but…” he hesitates, his voice trailing off.

“But what?” I press, my fists clenching under the table.

“They don’t expect her to survive once they’ve got what they want,” he finishes, his tone grim.

A cold fury settles over me, sharpening my focus and pushing everything else to the background. They’re not taking her. Not while I’m still breathing.

“Who’s the contact?” I ask.

Patrick shakes his head. “That’s not important, little brother,” he says grimly. “What matters is finding her before they do.”

I nod, already pulling out my laptop and setting it on the table. “I can trace her phone,” I say, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me. “If it’s still on, I can find the last place it pinged.”

Patrick raises an eyebrow, clearly impressed. “Thank goodness you taught yourself all that tech shit.” He chuckles wryly.

“And here you and Dad thought it was a waste of time,” I mutter, already typing.

The room fades away as I focus on the screen in front of me, my fingers moving with practiced precision. Patrick may have a literal army at his disposal, but this is my wheelhouse.

It doesn’t take long to get a hit. Her phone pinged just an hour ago, right before the signal went dead.

“The hardware store,” I say, my voice low but clear. “That’s where her phone was last active.”

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