It took longer than he’d expected for his phone to ring. Nearly three hours after he’d plucked Aria off the streets of Charleston in broad daylight, her father finally called, his voice full of frantic worry when Killian answered.
“Aria’s missing. She never showed up for work this morning, she didn’t stop at her usual coffee place, and she isn’t answering her phone. I think someone took her, Killian.”
Guilt pricked at the back of his mind. He’d done what he’d needed to do, and he would do it again in a heartbeat, but hearing his friend so panicked over his missing daughter hurt in a way he hadn’t anticipated.
And because it did, he put Braden out of his misery rather than dragging the call out the way he’d been considering before the phone even rang. “She isn’t missing, Braden. She’s safe.”
“What? How do you know? Where is she?”
“She’s safe,” Killian repeated.
Silence stretched between them. “Killian.” The panic had gone now, leaving behind steel and fury. “Where the hell is my daughter?”
“With me, safe and sound.” Even with the prickles of guilt, he couldn’t resist twisting the knife a bit. “I really expected more from you, Braden. Letting her wander the city alone after I told you she was in danger. You’re lucky it was me who found her first and not the Italians. Or worse, the Russians.”
The Italians would have taken her, kept her for ransom until Killian caved to their demands. Which he never would have done, and then the city would have been dragged into an all-out war between the families because he instead would have slaughtered every single one of them for daring to touch her.
But if the Russians had gotten to her first…
He didn’t want to think about what would have happened if they’d gotten to her first.
“Fine. You’ve made your point. Holden has a team ready to go to watch over her. I’m on my way to pick her up.”
“No.”
More silence, this time thicker and deadlier than the first. “Excuse me?”
If Killian had been anyone else, he imagined he would have been intimidated by that tone. But he knew Braden didn’t have the resources or, if he was being brutally honest, the stomach to take Killian and his family on, no matter what was at stake.
Still, he ached for the distance he could feel widening between them with every passing second. “Since you and Aria both failed to grasp the seriousness of this situation, I’ve decided to take matters into my own hands. Aria has resigned from her position with Richard Williams, and she will be staying with me until I am convinced she can and will take her safety as seriously as I do.”
“Are you threatening to hold my daughter prisoner?”
“You know me well enough to know I don’t make threats, Braden. I simply do what needs to be done. And this needed to be done.”
“The hell it did. I’m coming to get my daughter, O’Rourke, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay the fuck out of my way.”
The call ended and Killian sighed before pressing the button on his landline that would connect him to the guard station at the front of the house. “Braden Elliott is on his way. He is to be escorted directly to my office without any interference. If any harm comes to him for whatever reason, whoever is responsible will answer to me.”
“Got it, boss.”
Satisfied his people would do as he’d instructed, he made another call, this time to the kitchen.
No doubt his guest would be hungry when he arrived. Righteous anger was bound to burn plenty of calories.
Aria
* * *
She was starving.
According to the digital clock on her nightstand, she’d been snatched off the streets three hours ago and locked in this room for over two hours. And since she’d been too nauseous to eat anything that morning, it had been over twelve hours since she’d put anything in her belly.
Just as she was considering the benefits of a hunger strike in forcing Killian’s hand, a knock sounded on her door. Curious, she slid from the bed and made her way across the room.
On the other side of the door stood a man who couldn’t have been much older than her, if at all. A cousin, maybe? Whoever he was, he kept his expression carefully neutral. “Come with me, please.”
So polite for a criminal. “No.”
