Page 98 of Blood Money

Or human hearts.

Was that why his brain was telling him one thing, while his heart was still being an uncompromising, unyielding dick?

Yeah, Alex lied. Many times over, but never with the intention to hurt him or anyone else. It was always to protect her son. To prevent him from being discovered by his father. An evil man. A terrorist.

It was no secret that terrorist cells were at work right here in the United States, recruiting young people with bullshit propaganda. Based on what Alex described was happening to her husband, her instincts were dead-on. Her fears totally valid.

She hadn’t lied to get close to him or anyone in the NYPD, and her plan had never been to provide information to Jan Mohammed. It was to keep it from him.

So why the hell can’t I understand that?

Because she lied, and his cop brain told him that when someone was lying, they not only couldn’t be trusted but that he could never allow them into his life. Problem was, no matter how many lies Alex told, he still loved her.

As he draped the damp towel on the rack, it slammed home that he’d probably fallen in love at first sight, the day they’d met. But that was illogical. No one really fell in love in a moment. It took days, weeks, months, sometimes years to fall in love.

Didn’t it?

There was no explanation for it. He was stupidly, irrationally in love with her, and no amount of lies his methodical brain refused to make sense of, would ever change that.

I’m an idiot. I should have met her halfway. Should have tried to understand, and now it’s too late.

“Dammit.” He shoved his legs into his jeans, dreading his day off. One more day alone with his own thoughts and regrets and he’d go nuts. He was a hair’s breadth from punching a wall as it was.

Gray pulled a long-sleeved black polo shirt from a drawer when his cell phone began ringing. He stomped to the bedside table and grabbed the phone, resisting the urge to drown it in the toilet. “Yates,” he growled, not meaning to sound like such a shithead.

“Detective,” a familiar dispatcher said. “I have an urgent message from Daisy Fowler.” Gray narrowed his eyes. “Alex Romano’s son, Nicky, is missing from school. Ms. Fowler asked for you specifically and said to please meet them at the school right away.” The dispatcher began rattling off the address.

Gray clenched his fist around the shirt in his hand. “Shit.” He raced to the bed and threw aside the shirt, jamming his feet into a pair of boots. He couldn’t get dressed fast enough.

“Detective, do you need me to repeat the address of the school?” the dispatcher asked, making Gray realize he was so shocked by what he’d just heard that he still hadn’t responded.

“I know where it is.” With the phone cradled between his head and his neck, Gray began lacing his boots with fumbling fingers. His pulse raced and his head pounded. While there was always a chance Nicky had wandered away from school, his gut told him otherwise.

Focus, dammit!

His fingers were still being uncooperative. He took a deep breath to calm his inner rage and fear that were on the verge of eruption.

The school was out of his normal jurisdiction, and child abductions weren’t his area of expertise, but he didn’t give a shit. He hadn’t spent much time with Nicky, but he’d really come to care for the kid. No way could he sit on his ass while some piece of shit had Nicky.

“Who else is rolling on this?” He shoved one arm through a shirtsleeve, switched the phone to his other ear, then managed to tug the shirt over his head.

“Grimaldi and Shanahan.”

“Good.” He knew them from working a case together years ago. Both outstanding investigators and experts in child abductions. “Tell them I’ll meet them at the school.”

“Ten-four, detective.”

Gray finished dressing in record time then called Dom, who was on duty today.

“Hey, partner,” Dom answered on the second ring. “You pull your head out of your ass yet?”

“Pick me up at my apartment.” Gray shoved his shirt into his pants, somehow managing to strap on his belt and gun. “Nicky may have been kidnapped from school.”

“On my way.”

Gray caught the blare of Dom’s siren over the phone just before his partner ended the call. He went to the hallway closet, his mind spinning with concern and unanswered questions.

Alex would be going crazy with worry and grief. Nicky would be scared to death. The poor kid had already been through enough traumatic events to last him a lifetime. As for the questions pounding his brain…