I was being honest with her when I told her she didn’t have a choice.
As fucked up as it sounds, if she planned to leave, I had thought of every way to make sure we stayed as a constant in her life until she was ready to accept us—taking odd jobs that kept us close, showing up at any event she frequented, breaking into her house…
Yeah, I’m fucked in the head over this woman. We all are.
I sigh deeply as I flick through the messages Knox sent me, trying to piece something together out of nothing. None of it makes any sense. Waylon is speaking in code to whoever he’s talking to, and most of it can be traced back to drug usage.
Bring the goods.
Money in hand.
Don’t forget the drop location.
It’s like following a dead trail. I keep cycling through everything to pinpoint something. Knox is still trying to get the names of Waylon’s contacts, and until then, this is moot.
We have no locations or anything of importance until Knox and his team can provide us with direct information. Hopefully, it’ll be enough to build a case. Putting Waylon behind bars for good ensures he can’t touch Rosalie.
I would much prefer to kill him, but I don’t know how Rosalie would feel about that. I would hate to put her in a tough situation if I don’t need to. She would just have to say the word, and I could make him fucking disappear…
“Still looking at that?” Kairo asks from the doorway of my room.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “What else is there to do? I don’t want to miss anything.”
He snorts humorously. “You could apologize to our girl. How about that?”
I close my eyes. “You’re right. I need to talk to Rosalie.”
“One of these days, your temper is going to fuck us beyond redemption.” Kairo shakes his head. “Don’t mess thisup for us.”
I feel like I already have.
I stand from my chair before following him out to the foyer. I can hear someone moving around the kitchen, and my anxiety revs as we walk into Charlie and Elijah at the island. I glance around, frowning. “Where’s Rosalie?”
Elijah’s brow hits his hairline. “Wait…I thought—”
Charlie slaps a hand over his mouth, hissing at him to stop talking. “Remember what I said earlier?”
The PR manager’s eyes bug. “Oh! Shit. Sorry.”
I cross my arms, my head tilting. “Where the fuck is Rosalie?”
Charlie shrugs, going back to scooping out coffee grinds to fill the drip pot. “No idea.”
I run a hand across my mouth, my jaw working. “Charlie—”
“Figure it out yourself,” She snips, slamming the lid closed.
I nod before Maddox enters the kitchen. He holds his phone out to me, showing a picture of our girl on a fucking date with some guy. She’s laughing at something the dark-haired man said, her head thrown back and the green wrap dress clinging to her figure tightly. They’re seated at a table in a high-end establishment, and the shot looks like it was taken by a passing fan trying to get a quick view of them. The caption makes my fucking teeth grind.
Chaslie shippers! We’ve won!
“What the fuck?” Kairo sneers.
“I said the same thing,” Maddox pockets his device, his eyes finding mine. “We can’t let this go further.”
“No,” I say ominously. “We can’t. Come on. We’re getting our girl back.”
Chapter Forty-Two
