Every muscle in my fucking body tightened. She didn’t sound like herself, there was none of that bossy nanny edge she carried around, just a soft, shaky voice from a scared woman. I didn’t like it. Not one fucking bit.
“Just fucking spit it out,” I said,”
I snapped because the tension and the unknown made me antsy. I didn’t mean to be such a snarling bastard but the sound of her so vulnerable did something to me.
There was a long silence and then she spoke, her voice shaky. “My apartment was broken into, which isn’t your concern, I know, but the place was vandalized.”
The words barely registered before my brain jumped ahead to her point. “Don’t try to blame this on my club,” I barked. I knew hiring a college kid would bite me in the ass. “You hear me, Eliana? If you’re lookin’ for a—”
“Just listen to me, damn it!” she shouted, her tone angrier than I’d ever heard and it sparked something in me. I always had a thing for women who weren’t afraid to speak up. She had fire in her voice even when she was shaken. “Whoever did this—and I know it wasn’t your damn club—left behind a bunch of photos. Of Zoya.”
My heart stopped. Then it kicked back to life, pounding like a goddamn hammer in my chest, so loud I couldn’t hear shit. My grip tightened on the phone until the plastic creaked. “What?”
“Photos,” she repeated the word as if I didn’t fucking understand English. “All over the wall and the floor. From different places in Steel City, but also from other places. Sledge, I don’t… know.”
“Someone’s watching you?” I spat out.
“No,” she answered. “They’re watching Zoya. There were photos of her with her previous babysitters.”
My heart stopped beating. My hands bunched and flexed as if that could shake away this fury, white-hot as it spread through me. “Why would someone do that?” My tone was accusing and I did nothing to hide it. Did I believe her? I wasn’t sure.
There was a shuffling sound followed by a familiar voice.
“Sledge.” Sheriff Cross began, his tone serious. “This is pretty damn disturbing. There are at least a hundred photos of your little girl and if I’m not mistaken, some are from before she came to live with you.”
Shit.Cross had seen her and her case file, so he knew she’d been underweight and malnourished when she came to me. “What the fuck did you just say?” I was on my feet, shoving them into my boots before I could think about what I was doing.
“Whoever did this has been watching her for a long time. We’re treating this as a targeted threat.”
“I’m on my way,” I growled, grabbing my keys. I’d see if Diesel and Ellie would take Zoya for the night.
“No,” he commanded sharply. “Crime scene’s active. You need to stay with your little girl. We’re gonna be sending out someone in the morning to speak to her. See if she noticed anything. Looks like they’ve been watching her for years.”
“Let me talk to Eliana.”
There was a pause on the call, some muffled voices, and the next voice that spoke belonged to Cross. “She’s with one of my men right now. She says to tell you she’ll be on time tomorrow, Boss.” He chuckled under his breath before ending the call.
I stood there in the middle of my living room, the phone still pressed to my ear while I tried to process what the fuck I’d just heard.
If there were photos from before Zoya’s time in Steel City, that meant this wasn’t random. It was personal.
I called Slate and told him everything. “Can you check cameras and shit around Eliana’s place, see who was hanging around?”
“I’ll let you know when I find something,” he said and ended the call without saying another word.
I sat back down with another beer, knowing I wouldn’t be sleeping a goddamn wink tonight, and thought about my sweet baby girl. She’d been so damn small when she came to live with me. Quiet. Scared. Underweight. I’d done everything I knew to do, fed her, protected her, and gave her space. And still, she barely ate. Barely talked.
***
The next morning I could hardly get the door open fast enough when Eliana finally arrived. She looked tired. Her hair was mussed, her face was makeup-free, and the dark circles under her eyes seemed to weigh her down. But the biggest clue that something wasn’t right was the gray sweatshirt and the black pants with matching sneakers. Gray. Black. Lifeless. All of her color was gone. Despite all of that, she was still gorgeous as fuck.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said, waving me off before I could say a word. “I forgot to factor in traffic from the motel. It won’t happen again.”
“Motel?” I asked with a dark frown. “Why the hell are you in a motel?”
She rolled her eyes as she brushed past me, heading for the kitchen like it was any other day. “Because someone broke into my house last night, remember? It’s still a crime scene and even if it wasn’t, I’m not sure I could’ve slept there last nightanyway.” She searched the cabinets and then the fridge, pulling ingredients together for Zoya’s breakfast.
“Your parents are close, aren’t they?” My chest constricted and my breathing was too shallow.
