Page 63 of Wrong Number. Right Don.
I go to my office and shut the door, my pulse hammering with equal parts worry and disbelief. Why would she just leave without saying anything to me? We’d finally reached a good place, I thought. We were in here just last night, defiling my desk. What changed between then and now that could cause her to leave?
I pull out my phone and dial her number, but it rings twice before going straight to voicemail. I call again, and hit the same dead end.
I pace, trying to think. I left her in here alone. Shit. Did she see something that scared her? Did she finally glimpse the truth about me? I have to find her, to explain who I am and why I didn’t tell her sooner. I call Sasha and tell him she’s missing, ask what the hell to do next. He tells me to get the grounds’ security footage and he’ll take care of the rest.
I try to keep the edge from my voice when I call Viktor, the guard covering perimeter duty this morning.
“Pull the camera feeds,” I say. “My mother’s nurse slipped out overnight. I need timestamps and a trail.”
“Yes, boss.” He doesn’t ask why—though I’ve never made this request before.
My hand clenches around my phone as I pace the office, my thoughts racing too fast to catch. We were fine last night. We were ravenous for each other, in fact. Not even twelve hours have passed since I bent her over this very desk and she turned my darkest fantasies real.
The possibility that she left willingly sits like a stone in my chest. If she found out what I do, I could at least understand it, even if it would still gut me. But what if she didn’t leave on her own?
I don’t let myself finish that thought.
The door bursts open, and Sasha barrels in with his hair rumpled and shirt half-buttoned, like he ran out before he could finish dressing. Hell, after my frantic call, he probably did.
“They found her car.” He’s breathless.
My blood goes cold.
“Where?” I ask sharply.
“Ten minutes from the gate,” he says quickly. “Off the service road near the south bend. It was empty, driver’s window busted out.”
I’m already storming down the hall. “Any signs of her?”
“No,” Sasha says, falling into step beside me. “No blood. No signs of a struggle. But the car was still running.”
Fuck.
“Could she have ditched it?” I ask, just ticking boxes.
“And go where?” Sasha counters. “She wouldn’t just walk off into the woods, not at night. And her bag’s still in the car. Her purse,wallet, and even her phone. I don’t know any woman who would just disappear without those essentials.”
I stop just inside the front doors and face him. “You think someone took her?”
Sasha hesitates. “Nothing else makes sense,” he finally admits.
I drag a hand down my face, fighting the surge of rage clawing up my throat. “Do you think it was Semion?” I ask flatly.
“It very well could be,” Sasha agrees, his voice cautious.
We both know that if this is Semion, he’s effectively declared war on our organization. Such a bold and personal attack warrants no less.
I grab my phone and send out an alert. Every man within fifty miles receives the mobilization alert. Everyone needs to get to the compound ASAP so we can plan our next move.
“She couldn’t have gone far,” I growl. “Pull road surveillance. Check the gas station cameras on the main road, the tunnel cams, and traffic feeds. I want eyes on every possible route she could have taken. And find out what time she left.”
“I’m already on it,” Sasha says, pulling out his phone. “And I’ll call Dmitri. He has back-door access to the NYPD systems. If anyone reports a missing woman, or a Jane Doe ends up in a hospital?—”
“Don’t,” I snap, cutting him off. “She’s not going to be a fucking Jane Doe.”
He pauses, studying me carefully. “I didn’t mean to insinuate?—”
“I know what you meant,” I say, quieter this time. “Just find her.”
