Page 157 of Resurfaced Passion
The record log on the app for the last few days didn’t make a lick of fucking sense and his instincts all began to knit together, forming thoughts he didn’t want to have.
What in the hell was she doing all the way across town when she said she was going directly to work?
And last night before she came home to him and climbed into his shower, the tracker showed her way across town. He’d noticed something wasn’t right with her demeanor, but he’d let his dick do the talking because he was a weak fucking man.
“Bug, what are you up to?” He murmured to himself and didn’t like the answer he came up with.
Up on his feet, he didn’t stop to chat once he walked the distance across the forecourt into the club. Only briefly asking a prospect. “Where’s Rider?”
“Kitchen, I think.”
He was there holding his son in one arm and pouring coffee with the other. “Take Knox a minute, brother.” Before Reaper could protest, his arms were full of a baby in a black onesie with “Son of a badass” on the front. For a little one, the boy was alert like a hunter.
The punch ofwhat ifhit him in the belly. He thought of his own kid sometimes, wondered what he’d look like, would he be smart like Paige, boisterous like Reaper was as a kid? The possibilities of all they’d lost still had the ability to fill him with rage and while he held a baby in his arms he let that rage lead him because Reaper had a gut feeling it was all connected.
“I need your help, Prez.”
“I had a feeling when you flew in like your ass was on fire. Bring my boy, let’s go somewhere private.”
A while later, with Lawless’ help and Hawk standing by silently, they came to the end of a discussion on what Reaper wanted to do now they had Sargent’s location in an Airbnb not far from Reaper’s apartment.
That same gut feeling he’d felt years ago when Paige was lying to him lay like bricks in his chest.
He was right, he’d bet the house on it.
He wouldn’t see it happening again to her because he wasn’t the same man he was back then and if his hunch was right, he was gonna bury that motherfucker in the same way he did his pervert stepson, if it meant Paige was finally free of her family chains.
“Right,” Rider said from his chair. “I got Grinder to go and scope the place out, make sure the guy is actually there.”
“I know he is. He’s a slick bastard with blackmailing, especially with my girl.”
Her app tracker had moved again, and it still wasn’t where she said she was going to be. It only caused his fucking ulcers to burst and fire him alive with worry. After trying to call her and it dumping him to voicemail, that worry tripled.
It was when a call came through from Grinder, that Reaper’s blood iced over.
“Her last known position on the tracker? She was at the Russian flop, they’re in that old tycoons mansion.”
He wished it didn’t make sense.
He wished he was wrong, but every bone in his body told him the possibility of his girl doing some bad shit for her father was high.
He made to head to the door and Hawk barred his way.
“Get out of my way, VP.”
“Not so quick, hothead. If we’re gonna bury this guy, we do it right.”
Over speakerphone, Grinder spoke. “She’s definitely going back and forth from the Russian’s to the Airbnb apartment block.”
Reaper’s throat gurgled; his fists bunched. It was all the proof he needed.
This stopped today. Now. Right fucking now.
“What are the fuckin’ chances Grigori would be involved?” Added Rider. “Looks to me we got two birds with one stone.”
“We’re not using my fucking wife as a pawn!” Fumed Reaper, rounding on the room. “I want her out of this, not in the fucking center with a target on her back.”
The only reason Rider hadn’t taken Grigori out yet was the ramifications that would hit the club tenfold. It was why the club were taking the slow route to buckle the man and his crime organization from the toes up, starting and ending with the money. With men like thebratva, money was not only their currency, but more importantly, their status. You take that from them and they’re nothing.
