Did You Miss Me? (39 page)

Shit
. He did hate waste. It was a perfectly good vehicle.

Hagerstown, Maryland, Wednesday, December 4, 9.55
A.M.

It was at times like this that Joseph was very happy to have an SUV with four-wheel drive. Western Maryland had received four inches of snow the night before and the roads were slick. It would be even worse once they got to the higher elevations.

Flying Daphne to West Virginia would have been faster and safer from a security standpoint, but after she hit her head the day before, her doctor friend at the ER had nixed air travel for another twenty-four hours.

At least he had them covered. Hector drove behind them, watching for any speeding vehicles that came too close. Kate Coppola was leading the investigation at Daphne’s farm, checking out Cooper’s medicine cabinet. When she was done, she would follow them up to West Virginia with Daphne’s mother and Maggie and the dog. Joseph felt better when Daphne had Tasha around.

He himself was well armed and he’d had the SUV outfitted with bullet-resistant glass when he’d bought the thing. Still, he’d felt nervous until they’d reached the more open road west of Baltimore. Now he wasn’t so much nervous as watchful.

He’d spent the last hour touching base with each member of his team. He’d started by informing Ciccotelli that Ford had been found and where. Ciccotelli had informed him that the MacGregors had still received no word, no calls, no communication regarding their missing daughters. A search of MacGregor’s veterinary hospital had shown several boxes of missing fentanyl and injectable ketamine, as well as other controlled substances.

Joseph had called Deacon to West Virginia. He wanted him coordinating with the Pittsburgh office in the investigation. He wanted to know where the hell Ford had been for a day and how he had magically shown up on some lady’s snow-covered lawn.

He had called Bo Lamar next. The FBI/ATF task force formed to track the source of the assault rifles recovered from yesterday’s raid was moving rapidly. The assault rifles had a connection to organized crime. Specifically a Russian ‘businessman’ named Fyodor Antonov.

The Bureau had been watching Antonov for a year now, but had never been able to put their hands on the goods to connect with him. Bo would spend most of his morning arranging a warrant and planning a raid on Antonov’s warehouse.

JD Fitzpatrick had spent the entire night checking out the properties he’d found belonging to Dougs, Douglases, or MacDougals within a two-hour radius of Baltimore. Two hours was how long Doug would have had between coming home from Philly with Pamela and arriving at the alley to attack Isaac Zacharias and Ford Elkhart. It was tedious and time-consuming work, but that’s what detective work was usually like.

Joseph had told JD about his conversation with Holly the night before, that Kim had told Doug about a possible job, but that he’d need a ‘GC’ to do it. JD was adding that to his rapidly overflowing plate.

Daphne had called everyone in her world to give them the good news. She’d smiled and laughed and sometimes cried with her family and friends.

When she’d finished her last call, she’d become abruptly quiet, as if she’d expended all her energy being happy. For the last half hour she’d stared out of her window, deep in thought. He let her have her space, well aware that for the last twenty-four hours she’d had precious little time to herself.

When she finally did speak, she took him by surprise.

‘It was stage one. I was twenty-seven years old.’

He looked right so hard and fast that he nearly hit a tractor trailer. The trucker blew his horn but Joseph barely heard it. He got back in his lane and drew a breath.

She hadn’t looked at him, still staring at the passing countryside that he didn’t think she saw at all.

Stage one.
That’s
 . . . 
the least bad, right?
But he couldn’t ask that question.

Twenty-seven?
He hadn’t done the math for some reason. ‘That’s not . . . usual, is it?’ He’d caught himself before ‘normal’ left his mouth. ‘To be diagnosed so young.’

‘It’s rare and I certainly wasn’t expecting it. I figured it was something innocent, like a cyst. When he said “cancer” I went into a state of shock.’

So much so that she’d wandered to her ex-husband’s office. ‘How did you find it?’

‘Monthly self-exam . . . that I didn’t do every month because I was twenty-seven. “Old women” in their forties and fifties got breast cancer. But women in their twenties do get it, and when they do it’s usually a lot more aggressive.’

His heart stuttered at the word.
Aggressive
.
‘
Was yours?’

She lifted a shoulder. ‘Could have been a lot worse. I’m still here. I come with an awful lot of baggage, Joseph. I think you need to know that.’

‘We all have baggage.’

‘Mine still hovers over my head. Anyone who wants to be with me needs to understand that. I’m seven years clear and with every year my chances of dying from something else get better and better. I sometimes get paranoid over the smallest sniffle or bruise, worrying that it’s come back, because if it does . . . that would be very bad.’

He took a minute to think, to use the logic that normally served him well. But at the moment the fear clawing at his gut was kicking logic out the door. She waited for him to speak, still not looking at him.

‘I’ve got a million different thoughts running through my head right now and I’m terrified I’m going to say the wrong one,’ he confessed.

‘I don’t think there is a wrong one, Joseph.’

‘Yeah, there probably are several wrong ones. The wrong ones would be ones that hurt you. A right one would be one that makes us both feel better.’

‘What makes you feel better?’

‘That numbers don’t lie. Statistically speaking, I’m more likely to get hurt because I have a dangerous job.’

She grimaced. ‘That doesn’t make me feel better at all.’

‘I just mean that anyone who wants to be with me needs to understand that my job comes with certain risks.’ He cast her a sideways glance and caught her peeking at him from the corner of her eye. ‘Although lately, your job is a helluva lot more dangerous than mine.’

‘That’s fair.’

‘My dangerous job could end me with less warning than cancer would end you.’

‘That’s true. But while it’s the end that scares people, it’s the getting there that puts the strain on a relationship.’

He reached across the console and tugged her left hand free of the choke hold the right had it in. He threaded their fingers together and kissed her hand as he had the day before. ‘I’m thirty-seven years old and not getting any younger, so I’m going to be blunt, okay?’

She sifted in her seat so that she could look at him. ‘Okay.’

‘I like you. I think you’re beautiful and smart and . . . colorful.’

She’d looked happy until the last word. ‘Colorful?’

‘Yeah. Full of color and . . . life. And that’s a good thing for me.’

‘Okay,’ she said warily. ‘I’ll let you have that one.’

‘No, I want you to understand. For a long time I’ve felt like my life is Dorothy in Kansas. All gray. You are . . . color.’

Her smile had bloomed. ‘Thank you, Joseph.’

‘You’re welcome. I’m still in blunt mode, okay?’

‘I’ll try to keep up,’ she said dryly.

He smiled. ‘There are things I want and there are things I need. I want a challenging job, but I need someone to come home to when I’m done with that job. I need that somebody to need the same thing. That might be you. It might not. But I’m tired of wasting time and I get the impression you are, too.’

She nodded, her eyes wide.

‘So,’ he continued, ‘if it does turn out to be you and you come with baggage, it becomes my baggage too. Same goes the opposite way, but we’re talking about your baggage now. If you got sick again, I wouldn’t run away. I’m not made that way.’

‘I know you’re not,’ she said softly.

‘I’m about to get blunter,’ he warned. ‘I want you. Any which way I can have you. And some ways I haven’t even thought of yet. I’ve wanted you for nine months and I’ve . . . thought about how it would be between us. Often.’ He glanced over, saw her cheeks had pinked. ‘And since I’m not getting any younger, I’d really like to find out sooner versus later. Much sooner.’

‘In the spirit of bluntness, that scares me more than anything else. I’m . . . different now. Almost certainly different from any other woman you’ve been with. You can say that it doesn’t matter, but if it does when the time comes . . . that will be hard.’

‘But in the grand scheme, if none of the baggage existed . . .’

She drew a deep breath. ‘Sugar, I’d be on you like white on rice,’ she drawled.

He laughed. ‘That’s something at least. Not sure I’ll ever look at rice the same way again.’ He sobered. ‘Daphne, nothing I can say now will alleviate your concern. That’s kind of an in-the-moment thing. I’ll probably be more nervous than you.’

‘I know.’ She looked down. ‘And I’d do nearly anything to spare you that.’

‘It’s not your job to spare me.’ He said the words more curtly than he’d intended.

She looked up, surprised. ‘Excuse me?’

‘I’m not your mother or your nanny who you buy houses for and take care of. I’m not a rescue animal that you take in. You take care of people and that’s what’s wonderful about you. But that’s not what I want from you.’

‘Then what
do
you want from me?’ she asked quietly, ‘Besides sex.’

‘Sex is a damn good start. Don’t dismiss the multi-layered benefits of sex,’ he said lightly and saw her smile. ‘Daphne, I don’t want a mother. I have a mother and she’s pretty wonderful.’

‘You want a mate.’ She went back to looking out the window. ‘So do I.’

‘Then I’d say we’re off to a good start.’

Her lips twitched. She didn’t agree, but she didn’t disagree either.

‘I’ll be less nervous if I’m prepared,’ he said seriously. ‘Mastectomy?’

She stiffened at the question, but answered nevertheless. ‘Bi-lateral, radical.’

‘Reconstruction?’

‘Yes. So at least when I’m eighty, the girls’ll still be perky.’

‘Sugar, ain’t nothin’ wrong with perky,’ he said, mimicking her accent.

She turned to smile at him. ‘I never expected you to be charming. There’s always this intensity that swirls around you, but it’s tempered by charm. I like that.’

‘Don’t disclose my secret weapon,’ he teased. ‘You know what I first noticed about you? Your legs. I said, “Grayson, there’s a woman coming up your walk wearing a lime green suit and four-inch heels with legs up to her shoulders.” When my eyes finally got up to your breasts, I was distracted by the basket of muffins in your hand.’

Her laugh was full and throaty. ‘So if I bake for you, you’ll be blind to all my flaws.’

And there it was. What she wanted. Someone to love her, ‘flaws’ and all. He could relate to that. ‘If you bake for me, I’ll be your slave. As for your “flaws”, we’ll add that word to our vocabulary list for later.’

‘When we discuss wants and needs. And greed,’ she murmured.

‘The lady learns fast.’ He pointed to a restaurant sign up ahead. ‘I had breakfast a million years ago. Let’s get some food.’

‘I might actually be able to eat, but let’s use the drive through, okay? I want to get to Ford as fast as we can.’

Joseph hadn’t intended to stop long enough to allow her to become a target. Because even though Ford had been found, Doug was still out there.

Chapter Seventeen

Baltimore, Maryland, Wednesday, December 4, 9.55
A.M.

M
itch pulled into his garage, tired but pleased. Ford was ‘found’ and Daphne was on her way to her boy. Wilson Beckett was on a mission to find the rich kid who’d seen his face, a mission that would send him running straight into Daphne.

Daphne would remember things he’d done. She’d remember the room in the back half of Beckett’s basement, with its bed and nightstand, its sink and toilet. Leading the police back to that place would be agony for her. And when the truth came out, she’d be ruined, personally and professionally.

Everyone she loved would be ashamed.

She’d be cut off from everyone and she’d limp home and try to pick up the pieces.
But then it’ll be my turn
.
And she’ll finally know who’s ruined her life
.
And who’s ended it
.

He hadn’t yet heard from his brother, but it was only a matter of time before Mutt and his dad discovered that the rifles found by the cops the day before were Antonov’s. Mutt’s father had made a lot of money discreetly distributing the Russian’s goods – some drugs but mostly guns.

He got out of the van and moved the bookshelf covering the entrance to the old bomb shelter. He needed to be sure Kimberly was still alive. Because he still needed her when it came time to lure Ford back.

Because Ford would lure Daphne.
And then it’ll be Daphne’s turn for payback
.

I’m fine if somebody else kills Mutt’s daddy
.
But Daphne is mine
.

Claysville, Pennsylvania, Wednesday, December 4, 2.40
P.M.

Daphne had not only been able to eat, she’d slept a little, too.

Ford
.
He’s alive
. Those were her first thoughts as she opened her eyes.
Thank you, God, so very much
. To say that she was relieved . . . the word was far too mild.

His ordeal was a long way from over. This she knew. There would be emotional hurdles to scale. His sense of personal safety and control had been irrevocably altered. He’d been betrayed by the girl he’d trusted. And whoever had taken him was still out there.

But he was alive and in that reality she let herself steep, finally able to breathe again as joy bubbled up like champagne, filling her lungs from the inside out. She felt energized. Invigorated. As close to giddy as she’d come in a very long time.

Most of that was because her son was alive. But she’d be a fool and a liar not to acknowledge the role played by the man behind the wheel.

Because she could breathe again, she did, filling her head with his scent. She rolled her head sideways to look at him, saying nothing yet. She just wanted to look a little bit. He drove with one hand, his forefinger tapping the wheel as seemed to be his preferred position.

Which made her wonder if he did have a preferred position. Heat that had nothing to do with the SUV’s climate control rushed to her cheeks as she contemplated the thought for a moment. Somehow she couldn’t see Joseph being content with anything as vanilla as missionary, which was the sum total of her limited experience.

He was a massive man, but he moved with a grace that sent her imagination in all kinds of lovely directions. And he wanted her. It made her draw a deep breath as her pulse thrummed low and for a moment she wasn’t thinking about her inexperience or her scars. She was thinking about how he’d feel next to her, on top of her. Inside her.

Daphne’s eyes slid down his body, happy to observe him when he wasn’t looking at her. He wasn’t a bodybuilder like his brother Grayson, and Daphne rather liked that. Instead he was broad of shoulder, lean of hip, and . . .

Holy God
. She sucked in a small gasp as her gaze froze on his lap, which left no doubt as to what he was thinking about right now.
Wow
.
Just
 . . . 
wow
.

The sound she’d made had him turning to look at her, the expression on his face making her hot. And wet. Her mouth opened and not a blessed word emerged.

His grin was wicked. ‘Well?’ It was a purr and she shivered.

‘Mercy,’ she whispered.

He looked back at the road. ‘I don’t think so.’

Her brows crunched, her mind too addled to follow. ‘Don’t think so, what?’ A notion intruded, altogether unpleasant. ‘You changed your mind?’

‘Do I look like I changed my mind, Daphne?’ he asked, his voice pitched low. It was like he’d petted her and he hadn’t laid a finger on her. Yet.

‘No. I’d have to say the evidence is pretty definitive that you haven’t.’

His chuckle was rich and deep and she thought if he’d been holding her at the moment, she would feel the vibration of his body. The thought of climbing over the console and straddling him suddenly didn’t seem all that crazy.

‘I’ve just been thinking,’ he said.

She smiled at him. ‘That I can see.’

‘You want to know about what?’ he teased.

‘I think I can guess.’

‘Maybe. Maybe not.’ He reached for her hand, pressing her palm to his thigh. His leg was solid. Thick. And her eyes were once again drawn lower to where his body visibly strained against the zipper of his trousers, trying to get free. And her fingertips tingled, wanting to touch.

No mercy
. ‘Oh.’ She got it now. ‘What were you thinking about?’

‘That I’ll have to be inventive, think outside the box.’ He looked over, brows lifted. ‘Your breasts. I assume they’re not as sensitive as they were before.’

Her mouth fell open again, this time in shock. ‘What?’

‘True?’

She shook her head, no words emerging again.

‘True or false?’

‘True,’ she said, her voice rising a few notes.

‘I told you I was done with wasting time. I’m going to be blunt because I need to know. Now, can I also assume you have full . . . feeling everywhere else?’

The rush of heat returned. ‘Yes.’ She shifted her hips, unable to resist the urge to squeeze her thighs together. A movement he noticed.

‘Good.’ He drew a breath, his nostrils flaring. ‘That’s what I’ve been thinking about. All the ways I can make you feel good, without ever leaving . . . well, you get the idea.’

The image of his dark head between her thighs slammed into her mind, front and center, and she bit back what would have been a moan. ‘Um, yeah. I do. Get the idea.’

‘Good.’ He released her hand to turn the heater down and tug at the knot in his tie. Then he surprised her by pressing his palm against the hard ridge in his trousers, adjusting himself with a grimace.

She wanted to do that for him. She wanted to see what he looked like, what he felt like in her hand. Inside her body. Sooner versus later. Which meant she’d need to be prepared. Protection. The doctors weren’t sure if she’d ever conceive again, but she had no intention of finding out the hard way.

Hard way
. Damn. Her fingers itched again, this time to give herself some relief. Instead she squeezed her thighs tighter.
There’ll be plenty of drugstores in Morgantown
. It was a college town, so they’d have no shortage of condoms.

‘If you keep looking at me that way, we might never get to Wheeling.’

She lifted her eyes to his face. Saw no hint of a smile. Just raw need. He’d laid himself bare to her, letting her see what he felt. What he wanted.

Me
.
He wants me
.
This big, beautiful man wants me
.

Then the word
Wheeling
sank in and she frowned. ‘Morgantown,’ she said. ‘We’re going to Morgantown.’

His brows knit. ‘No, we’re going to the hospital in Wheeling. That’s where Ford is.’

Her breath was hitching up in her lungs, the warmth she’d felt cooling to ice. ‘You said we were going to Morgantown. You said . . .’ She looked away, aware he was looking at her in consternation.
What had he said?
‘You said . . . that Ford was in a hospital in West Virginia just across from Pennsylvania.’

‘That’s Wheeling. Daphne, what’s wrong? What’s in Wheeling?’

Dark rooms
.
Screaming
.
Always screaming
.
Did you miss me?

No
.
Don’t think it
.
It’s not real anymore
. She was dimly aware that she was rocking and forced herself to still.

‘Daphne?’

She bowed her head, stared at her hands. ‘I lived there for a while. My whole family did. And something happened to us. We were never the same.’

‘Your cousin was abducted,’ he said, his voice oddly tight. ‘As were you.’

She frowned, then remembered. Hector Rivera had asked the question when she’d zoned out upon entering her house the day before. Of course he’d told Joseph about it.

‘Yes, my cousin was abducted. Kelly.’
And so was I
. But those words didn’t want to come. They never did.

‘They found Kelly’s body.’

‘Yes. She’d been missing for three weeks all together.’ She chanced a glance at his face. He looked like he’d swallowed something too large to get down.

‘You were taken too,’ he said.

She exhaled.
You can do this
.
You’re an adult now
.
He can’t hurt you
.
Nobody is going to hurt you
.
Say it
.
Yes
.
I was
.
Say
.
It
.

‘
I was, but not the way Kelly was. I can’t talk about this right now. I’m . . .’ Having a panic attack. ‘I can’t quite breathe.’

‘All right,’ he said quietly. ‘We’ll be at the hospital in ten minutes.’

Baltimore, Maryland, Wednesday, December 4, 3.00
P.M.

The banging on his bedroom door woke him up. It was Mutt and he was frantic. ‘Dammit, wake up, Mitch. Wake up!’

Mitch squinted at the clock. Five hours’ sleep. That’s all he really needed. He got out of bed and checked his gun. It was loaded and ready to go in case his brother got confrontational. Mitch opened the door to find Mutt deathly pale.

‘We’ve got trouble. Antonov is about to be raided by the Feds. He’s clearing everything out of his warehouse.’

‘Why would the Feds raid him?’

‘They found a stash of rifles yesterday. What do you know about this?’

Mitch made his eyes go wide. ‘Me? What would I know about anything? I just drive where you tell me and drop off what you tell me. I’ve got signatures from the buyer on every delivery.’

‘I know. I know. It’s just that Dad is scared. Antonov isn’t a man to screw with.’

Neither am I
. ‘Antonov has other distributors, so don’t panic. We didn’t do anything wrong, so they can’t be angry with us. Go home, have a glass of that wine you like so much. It’ll be fine.’

When Mitch heard Mutt leave the house, he grinned. It wouldn’t be long now before his stepfather got exactly what was coming to him.
I’m glad the bastard is scared
.
So was I my first day in prison and every day after that for three years
.

He’d always wondered if his mother had been too, right before she pulled the trigger. Or if she’d just been so devastated that she’d shot herself that way... He wasn’t sure which was worse – hopelessness or fear.

Either way, she’d have her justice. The people who’d driven her to kill herself would be punished.

Good old stepdad was well on his way and Daphne would be soon enough.

Mitch went online and checked the police scanner feed for the Wheeling, West Virginia area. No mention of a BOLO on anyone matching Beckett’s description.
That means either Ford is still unconscious or they found the old bastard while I was asleep
.

Checking the websites for the Wheeling local newsrooms he found Ford’s rescue was the big story. But so far no one had the Beckett connection, so Ford must still be out of it, unable to tell his mother the four magic words.

Did you miss me?

The kid had to be waking up soon.
I didn’t give him enough ketamine last night to keep him unconscious this long
.
I hope he’s okay
.
I need him to say those magic words
. Otherwise, everything would fall apart.
Come on, Ford
.
Wake your ass up
.

Either way, things would start to pop because Beckett was tracking the kid and was certain to have seen the same stories Mitch had just read. It would only be a matter of time before Beckett arrived at the hospital to silence Ford – and that’s when the real action would start. That’s what he needed to be there for.

He’d see to his hostages’ comfort, then unload everything he needed from the van into the Jeep he’d bought back in Florida, in the days before he was delivering guns for Mutt. On his way to the garage he realized how quiet the house was now that Mutt was gone.
Cole isn’t home yet
. He should have been.

Mitch scowled. He had a few things to say to the boy, his ears still burning from the talking-to he’d received from Cole’s guidance counselor. Cole was out of control and Mitch was going to have to institute heavier punishments whether he liked it or not.

Because I’ll be damned before I let you end up like me, kid
.

Wheeling, West Virginia, Wednesday, December 4, 3.00
P.M.

She was pale as a ghost and shaking like a leaf. Joseph had to get the story out of her, but knew he’d have to be careful. She was incredibly fragile.

But this was important. Critical. He could feel it with every nerve in his body.

He parked the SUV and came around to help her down. When her feet hit the ground she turned into him, holding on like she’d never let go. He wrapped his arms around her, trying to absorb her trembles.

‘Sweetheart,’ he whispered, fear rising to burn his throat. ‘You’re okay. You’re safe. Nobody’s going to hurt you.’

Her arms tightened and he knew he was right. Someone had hurt her. Rage simmered, but he kept it controlled. He needed every piece of information he could get.