The urge to find the Crosses’ penthouse and storm it for answers was so fierce that Ronan found himself removing expired items from Ireland’s pantry to distract him. It wouldn’t help hischerto draw attention away from the necessary work being done by making a scene. That the feeling of inertia and lack of information were driving him mad was his problem, and he wouldn’t make it anyone else’s.
When his phone began ringing in his pocket, he fumbled for it, both hopeful and relieved to have something else to focus on. Seeing Valentin’s contact photo, he answered, "Ça va?"
“Ronan.” The urgency in Valentin’s tone was sobering. “Genevieve and I just returned from the Downtown Farmers Market, and our staff told us detectives came looking for you while we were gone.”
“I see.” Removing his glasses, he tucked them into the pocket of his dress shirt. Tension pressed into his temples and tightened the muscles of his back. The authorities were far enough into the investigation to locate property he owned in the city. His own concerns aside, he was relieved to know they were working quickly and thoroughly.
“Why would they want to speak with you?”
He answered with careful neutrality. “I expect they’ll be talking to anyone who has a grudge against the Crosses and Vidals.”
“Maybe it would be best for you to go home. Better to be far away from here for the time being.”
“I have good reason to be here, but I won’t be staying with you or in your building, so if anyone comes by asking for me again, you can tell them that.”
“Where will you be?”
“Where I’m needed. Perhaps the less you know, the better.” Stretching, Ronan attempted to relieve the rigidity in his shoulders. “I’ll make sure the police don’t have a need to bother you again.”
“It’s no bother to us. Our concern is for you.”
“Merci, mon ami. But I promise you, I’ll be fine.”
Valentin exhaled harshly. “Please don’t go to the police without Jules or another lawyer with you. A man with your history can’t be too safe when dealing with cops. Especially in such a high-profile case. The public wants answers. Cross and his family will demand them. Don’t make yourself the easy answer.”
“Wise advice. I’ll heed it.”
There was a long pause, then Valentin said, “I fear you don’t take the danger seriously enough.”
Raking a hand through his hair, Ronan searched for a way to reassure his old friend and damned his stressed mind for struggling to think. “It’s hard to worry about myself while I’m so worried about Ireland. But you’re right that I should be cautious. I’ll talk to Jules about it.”
“Bon. Please keep us posted. And know that you’re always welcome here. Nothing can change that.”
Ending the call with a promise to touch base later, Ronan held his phone for several minutes, his gaze on the muted television as he moved the few feet into the living room. Pundits were discussing Cross’s statement, debating whether he’d simply misspoken. Experts were offering their takes, and the consensus was that Cross had made a terrible error.
It would be far too easy to accept that reasoning if one hadn’t seen Cross the night before. Ronan didn’t agree with how Ireland’s family underestimated her and kept her in check, but he’d witnessed their devastation as the truth of her situationcame to light, and he’d felt their pain. Whatever else there was to consider, he believed her family loved her and would pay any demand for her.
Cross had revealed a great deal when he’d spoken. Not just how much the ransom was, but that the kidnappers had set an unreasonable time limit to meet their demands. It was hard to believe the people who pulled off the strategic, precisely orchestrated kidnapping would blunder the hostage handoff. Especially with a cooperative family and so much money on the line.
If they weren’t focused on getting paid, what else was their aim?
Standing in Ireland’s home, a place that somehow felt enlivened by her fiercely feminine essence, made her absence so hard to bear…and his worries far too terrifying.
At her husband’s direction, Eva took the seat behind his home office desk. Gideon took a position behind her, his left hand settling lightly on her right shoulder. They faced a stylishly attired insurance company representative whose copper hair was restrained in a tidy bun.
Night had fallen beyond the windows of their penthouse. The dinner her father thoughtfully prepared had been a mechanical exercise in fueling their bodies. They’d been winding down for bed after a brutally long day of waiting for another ransom call when Vicki Banning arrived. Eva was still unsure why the woman was there and felt uneasy about it because of the late hour and the nature of her business. Insurance companies transacted in tragedy.
Banning settled into one of the visitors’ chairs used by the security team when conferring with Gideon. His home office was not a place where he conducted in-person business with non-essential personnel. It was used mostly as his personal workspace, which was reflected by the collage of photos pinned to the wall, dozens of private and candid images of Eva and Lucky that he’d captured over the years.
“I’m very sorry your family is experiencing this devastating and unfortunate situation,” Ms. Banning said, crossing her legs as she settled in. Her skirted business suit was a cayenne hue and suited her coloring.
“You could call it that,” Gideon said flatly. Having removed his suit jacket earlier in the day, he stood now in his vest. The light from the brass fixture overhead glinted off his tie clip, cufflinks, and the fob chain of his pocket watch. In a way, his suits were armor for him, a barrier between his father’s legacy and the one he was building. Today and every day, he projected power and command because he faced threats from so many challengers, rivals, and enemies.
“There really aren’t words that adequately cover the abduction of a loved one.” Banning’s tone was soft, but also matter-of-fact.
When Gideon said nothing, Eva looked up at him and saw his austere expression framed by the ebony silk of his hair. He was capable of hiding every emotion and reaction, his striking blue eyes able to conceal as much as they revealed. She knew his unreadability was another weapon in his arsenal, but hated that the warm, generous, tender soul of the man she loved was so frequently locked away behind that imposing, magnificent exterior.
Eva took the lead. “Why are you here, Ms. Banning?”
