Disgrace (41 page)

“It’s strange that he hasn’t surfaced.” Daniel picks up the photographs on my desk. CCTV footage of Sam leaving the bar and being carried into the taxi. Several other photographs of the same taxi working its way across London. And a series of closely timed pictures showing several people exiting the taxi: Sam, a man I assume is Richard by the cut of the suit, a small figure, possibly a female, and a large male. The last photo is of them entering the train station. “I think Peitra knows more than she let on when she got back last week. I didn’t buy her story.” Daniel’s tone mirrors my scepticism and I scoff.

“You mean the one where she tearfully explained that she was only trying to reunite two lovers. That Richard had come to her for help. No, me either. Richard wouldn’t have even known who Peitra was or her connection to Sam without Peitra making that connection from working for me. I just didn’t realise she had that much access to my personal files. It’s irrelevant though, she’s said all she is going to say and until Sam is back to give her version of events there is no point bringing her in. Not unless you want to see your Chief Operating Officer go down for murder.” I state as a matter of fact.

“I really don’t.” Daniel gives me a pointed stare, which I hold.

“I’m making no promises because I’m saving that honour for Richard.”

“Jason, I know you’re upset—”

“Bethany.” I silence him with one word full of portent. He nods. He can make no case for me to feel anything other than murderous toward Richard, because I know he has felt the same and would
do
the same. The silence hangs heavy but I shake it off and fill my best friend in on what I do know.

“Will spoke to his flat mate,” I say but stop at the look of confusion on Daniel’s face. “Sorry, I didn’t tell you. Will shares his flat with two CIA agents. It’s how I was able to find out about Richard when I first started dating Sam. They have a file on him as long as your arm.” I massage the constant pressure at my temples and squeeze my eyes tight.

I can’t focus when I think what a man like that is capable of and my stomach turns with the knowledge of what he has gotten away with in the past. How he is a free man is unfathomable to me, but Will assures me the CIA is working hard to rectify that. I shake off the barrage of painful scenarios that haunt me, one minute with him is too long, and Sam has been at his mercy for ten fucking days. “Anyway, they seem to think he has one of his parties planned.” My stomach turns.

Daniel gives a curt nod. I had shared all the details with Daniel about Richard’s business activities last week. “Where is it this time?”

“That’s the thing; they are always off shore on some luxury yacht. They never leave from the same port, and no one has any idea who’s invited, so we can’t even sneak on the guest list.” I can’t help that the tone of my voice sounds dejected. I am struggling to see any light.

“Surely tracing his boat shouldn’t be difficult.” Daniel’s remark has my hackles rising.

“You know Daniel, if I wasn’t bone tired, I might smack you one for thinking I’m a fucking idiot,” I snap. “Of course his boat is easy to track but he doesn’t use
his
boat. He has some very rich and unpleasant acquaintances, and because of the service Richard offers, they are more than happy to host these events. They get the pick of the girls…hosts privilege.” I pinch the tingle at the bridge of my nose but let out a frustrated sigh.

“Sorry Jason, I didn’t mean to insult your efforts. If I ever went missing, I would hope I had someone as determined as you looking for me.” He squeezes my shoulder, and it barely registers I am so tense. “You’ll find her.”

“Girls go missing around him, Daniel.” My voice catches.

“I know. I read Patrick’s report.” He stands and walks to the door but turns and holds my stare. “You’ll find her, Jason.” I wish I shared his confidence, but I am grateful for it all the same. “Now go home or I’ll fire your arse.”

“Thanks.” I sniff out a very tired laugh.

“You’re welcome.” He nods, making sure I see his genuine concern. I slap my laptop shut, grab my jacket and follow him the lift. We are the only two people left on this floor. I check my watch for the first time in I don’t know how long. When did it get so late? When did I stop noticing the time? I swallow past the lump in my throat. I know when, the moment she disappeared and every minute apart became my living nightmare.

I let myself in to Sam’s flat. Leon gave me a spare key and I prefer staying here. Sleeping in her bed, surrounded by all her crap somehow feels better than being alone in my own place. The living room is dark, just the glow from the television with the sound off. Leon has fallen asleep on the sofa. Not the first time I have found him like this, and until we find her, it won’t be the last. Neither of us is sleeping much. I try to keep quiet, let him catch a few zees while he’s able. I slip into Sam’s bedroom and inhale. I just close my eyes and absorb anything that will make me feel a little better, because I feel like shit. It’s only the knowledge that I have to hold it together that is preventing me from free falling into the darkness. It’s shocking, amazing and all those adjectives that fail to express how incredible it is that someone can become so important, so integral, so vital to a person’s life in such a short time.
Insta-love
, love at first sight, whatever you call it, that day she stole my heart, it was like being hit by a fucking freight train.

I walk to her window, her curtains are wide open but the thin muslin drape covers the glass enough to yield some privacy. Her room overlooks a narrow garden that is mostly decked and has some low level seats and an area for al fresco eating when the British weather plays nice. No flower beds or shrubs but she has some potted herbs. Or rather, I suspect Leon has some potted herbs. Sam freely admits her skills are non-existent in the kitchen, something we were enjoying working on. I let out a heavy sigh.

“No news.” Behind me Leon’s voice is soft, and he walks into the room and stands beside me.

“Nothing new.” I don’t bother to look at him, I know his expression of devastation mirrors my own. I feel his hand on my shoulder.

“Come on, man. I’ll fix you a drink.” He pulls me away from the window, and I follow him to the kitchen. “You want me to fix you something to eat?” I shake my head and slide onto the kitchen stool while he starts opening cupboards and laying ingredients on the counter top. He pulls two beer bottles from the fridge, flips the caps and hands me one. “You need to eat, Jason. You look like I feel, but you won’t be any good to her if you get sick.” He starts cracking eggs into a bowl. “I know you don’t feel like it, fuck it’s the last thing I’m thinking about, but she needs you fully functioning so I am going to make you a fucking omelette, and you’re going to eat it.” His voice has steadily risen, and he finishes his culinary tirade with a stern look and a spatula in my face. I laugh and slap the weapon away.

“All right,
Mum,”
I quip. “That would be good…thanks.” He gives a bright smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, which under the harsh kitchen light, hold an unfamiliar redness on the lids. “I’ll find her, Leon.” The knife he is using hovers midcut and he flashes a glance at me. He swallows thickly and nods slightly. He is just as frayed, and however unwarranted, I get a twinge of jealousy that he feels this strongly about
my
girlfriend, but Leon clearly loves her too. He continues to chop and whisk and stir. The smells make my stomach groan in protest at my neglect, and I am struggling to remember the last time I had something that wasn’t black coffee. He slides the delicious, puffy, light-golden omelette onto a plate and hands it to me. I cut my first forkful and devour it, biting down on the searing heat and burning my tongue. It’s really good. I nod silently but enthusiastic enough for Leon to cast a wide grin and start to make another for himself.

“You’ve known Sam a long time?” I take a long pull of my beer.

“I met her the first day she came to the big bad city, over ten years ago.” He smiles, flicking a glance at me while he works the eggs in the frying pan. “We’ve never fucked.” He states as calmly as if asking for the salt. I bark out a laugh.

“I know. Sam told me.” I wipe my mouth dry on the back of my hand.

“Good, I just wanted to get that straight, because you looked at me just now like you wanted to kill me.” He raises a questioning brow.

“No,” I chuckle. “Not kill, maybe maim…a little.”

“Oh, that’s all right then.” He lets out a stilted laugh.

“I never thought I was the jealous type, but being with her has brought out this whole other side.” I shake my head lightly. “Just takes some getting used to you know. You’ve been her best friend a long time, you clearly love her, and I guess she feels the same.”

“Damn right she does but she doesn’t love
love
me. She loves you and that, my friend, I never thought would happen. So count yourself
very
lucky.” His tone is light but drops and lends the weight of seriousness to his comment.

“I do.” I meet his silent stare.

“Good…then we are on the same side…no need to maim.” He pauses for my reply.

“No need to maim.” I take another, much needed pull of my ice cold beer. “She said you saved her.”

“Hmm… she has a penchant for the dramatic so she would say that. It was more a case of right place, right time.” He takes his full plate and walks around the kitchen island to sit beside me, his forehead furrowed in thought. “She had a pretty low opinion of herself, but at best, I stopped her from making a stupid mistake.”

“And helped her make a different one.” My tone is low, and I say the words through an ever-tightening jaw.

“Ha!” He drops his fork and turns to face me. “Okay, Jason, spit it out.”

“She became a Domme because of you, because
you
needed that. You didn’t think she could be something else?” I snap.

“I’m going to let the attitude slide because I know you are strung out,
and
I will answer your accusations because you seem to know jack shit about the girl you claim to love.” I stand abruptly sending my stool crashing to the floor. He remains seated but has straightened and is meeting my hostile glare with his own narrowed stare. “She could be anything she wanted to be. I made her go to University, but she
chose
to study law. I gave her a roof over her head, but she
chose
to buy this place, and I asked her to help a friend out, but she
chose
to become a Domme. Because, and if you don’t know this you are dumber than…fuck, Jason!” I am instantly at his throat, my hand tight around his neck. He struggles but continues to choke out what he wants to say. “Damn it, Jason, you can’t make Sam
do
anything she doesn’t want to do.” He stands, making me step back and pushes my hands free from his neck. Leaning around me he bends down to pick up the stool. He pushes me lightly to sit.

All my anger has seeped shamefully out of my body, misdirected as it was. “You really think you can
make
her submit to you?” He raises a brow, but I don’t answer the bloody obvious. “She doesn’t even submit because she loves you; she submits because she
wants
to. No one can make her do anything she doesn’t want to do, period.” He puffs out a frustrated breath.

“Richard did.” We both fall silent with that unpleasant thought. Leon swallows loudly.

“Richard is an abusive arsehole, and abusers don’t tend to follow the safe, sane and consensual code.” He flops back down on his stool and pushes his half eaten meal away. “She’s not the same person he knew; she’s not fifteen anymore. She is much stronger now.” He looks at me, his expression grave. “But she has always made her own choices. She thinks I saved her back then, but it was the other way round.” He smiles crookedly, and I get that twinge again. She shares so much history with this man, a man I can’t even hate because he cares as much as I do. Well, almost as much. “She never needed to be saved.”

“She does now.” Apparently, I do have to state the bloody obvious. “I’m going to find her, Leon.” I stand and walk away. “Thanks for the meal and I’m sor—”

“
De nada
.” He waves off my gratitude but adds with a solemn tone that makes my chest bleed. “She’s counting on it, Jason.”