I cursed into the darkness of my room. Every time I had to pull a man home and replace him with another, it pushed back the search by several days, which was plenty of time for vital trails to go cold. Because of my own father, my wife was out there somewhere, alone and probably scared.
My heart spasmed. I knew why she'd run.
I saw the long, red hair snagged on the door to the shed while I searched the property for clues as to where she'd gone. She'd seen me interrogate the guy I'd snuck out of bed after our night together to find.
If she was scared, she was scared of me.
But when I found her, I would explain. I would make her understand, and she would see why I had to do what I did. She had to.
A beep from my phone pulled my swirling thoughts from the void they'd been circling. I looked down and saw the little email icon in the top right corner.
Probably Lester sending me written details of Mira's possible whereabouts.
I swiped my thumb over the display to open the mail-and nearly dropped it on the floor.
What flashed up on my email were not simple instructions. It was a photo. Of Mira.
My heart skipped a beat. Two beats. Three. Then, with a burst of pain and sickening fear, it began beating again, pounding in overdrive behind my ribs as if it was trying to burst free.
Someone held down her arms above her head, but the photo cut off just above her terrified eyes. I did recognize the guy holding a knife to her scarred stomach, though. It was her brother-the one who'd come to my office.
I stared at her swollen belly until my retinas burned from the pain of my phone's sharp backlight.
She was pregnant.
She was carrying my child.
And her sick family had them both.
"I don't care if he's sleeping!" I punched my fist so hard against the door frame, the pictures lining the hallway wall in my father's home shook. Sharp pain in my knuckles made my hand spasm, but I was too angry to pay it any mind.
Wesley flinched-a look that would have been amusing on the nearly seven feet tall and four feet wide body guard if I'd been able to feel anything but rage and desperation just then.
"You know he'll be pissed, Blaine," he tried to reason with me. "He's made his feelings about your wife known. I'm just trying to save you from yourself, here."
"I swear, if you don't go get him right fucking now, I'm going to kick in your goddamn teeth," I hissed.
Something in my face must have shown how serious I was, because Wesley finally held up his hands in surrender and sighed. "Fine. I tried. Go sit in the drawing room. I'll wake him."
I spent the next fifteen minutes pacing back and forth in front of the unlit fireplace, periodically glancing at the email. As much as it hurt to the core of my soul to see my wife so scared and vulnerable, her image was the only thing that kept me grounded enough to not start smashing furniture. I needed to keep a level head for her. And for our baby.
When my father finally came into the parlor, he was wearing a silk bathrobe and a sour expression.
"What is this, Blaine? Wesley says you threatened him in order to get me up? If this is about that goddamn wife of yours, I swear-"
"It's about my goddamn wife and your grandchild," I hissed, shoving my phone up underneath his nose. "She's pregnant, Dad. And the Clerys have her. They're threatening to-" it took everything I had to finish that sentence "-to butcher her. And my child."
I watched my father's eyebrows raise a quarter of an inch as he took in the image.
"This is why I told you to stop raising hell. You've made it abundantly clear that she means a lot to you, with how you tore through half of Europe before I dragged you back here. Of course she was going to get herself kidnapped. And what do the Clerys want, then? Money?" He sounded exasperated.
His tone made me bristle. "She didn't do this. They did."
"Indeed, they did. And maybe if you hadn't cut all our business ties with them and threatened to ‘gut them like fish,' they wouldn't have bothered hunting the little tramp down to get back at you. Now, what do they want?" My father folded his arms across his chest and leveled me with one of his trademark no-nonsense stares.
I swiped my thumb over my phone, scrolling further down in the email to the short message the Clerys had included. "They want control over London. Over all of it."
My father snorted and unfolded his arms. "Ah, the Clerys-you have to love their gumption. They always did have more balls than they did brains. Tell them they can have three hundred thousand pounds and that's it. If they're not happy with it, they can start cutting slices off the lass and see how far that will get them."
"I am not telling them that," I seethed. "I'm not risking her life."
He shrugged, turning toward the door. "That's all I'm prepared to offer, and that's only because I recognize my part in this. If I hadn't made you marry the girl, this whole spectacle could have been avoided. Though I am surprised and disappointed in your lapse of judgment, Blaine. All of this for a wife you didn't want? She must have quite the magical snatch."
"That's your grandchild's life you're throwing away," I said, only barely maintaining my composure. "You know they will follow through on their threats if they don't get what they want. You might not care about my wife, but that baby is your blood. ‘Everything for the Family,' remember? That used to be our motto."
"Oh, please." He turned fully to the door and stepped toward it, clearly not intending on continuing the conversation any further. "She's been gone how long? More than likely, that kid belongs to the first piece of Euro trash she bedded in exchange for a meal. Don't be so sentimental, Blaine. It's not doing you nor the Family any good."
"Don't you dare walk away from me!"
My roar made my father stop halfway out the door. He looked at me over his shoulder, the expression of cold contempt clear in his gray eyes. "Watch it, son. I have tolerated your foolishness so far. It will not continue much longer. Do not presume my acknowledgment of my part in introducing you to this girl will extend to any further attempts at returning her. I suggest you think carefully before you speak again."
I clutched my hands into fists by my sides, once again nearly breaking my phone. "Or what, you'll send me to jail like you did Isaac?"
His back stiffened, a look of surprise filtering across his face before he managed to squash it. Slowly, he turned back to me.
"Yeah, I know what you did. I know you were the one to get Isaac locked up for crossing you. And if you try to stop me from saving Mira, I swear to God, I will let all of them know. Isaac, Jeremy, Liam, Louis, Marcus and every single one of our men will know that you betrayed your own family for petty revenge."
"You have no idea what you're talking about." My father tried to regain his usual, cold composure, but it was clear my knowledge of his deceit had startled him.
"I know that if it gets out, you've lost them. All of them. And what will your empire be then? Will you be able to keep hold of your precious power if all your sons turn their backs on you? I doubt it. I doubt it very much."
I hadn't planned on confronting him with what I knew. Ever. I knew the second I opened my mouth and shared what I'd learned, he would see me as an enemy-and William Steel was not a man you wanted as an enemy. But his arrogant dismissal of my plea for help and his complete indifference to my wife and my child made me realize that he already was my enemy.
Anyone who would stop me from coming to Mira's aid was an enemy. And one thing I'd learned from him was you crushed your opposition before they could ever get a chance of hurting you.
"You don't want to give up your power to save your son's wife and your own grandchild? Fine. But you will help me save them, Father, or your dirty little secret won't be a secret anymore."
*
Chapter 23
Mira
The warehouse was cold enough to make me shiver in my T-shirt and shorts, but it was still a relief from the past three days. I'd been zip-tied and locked in the back of a van while my family made the drive up through Europe, so the open space above my head felt like a blessing.
I tried to ignore how the zip-ties around my wrists and ankles dug into my flesh while I drank in big gulps of the cool, fresh air. If this was going to be my last night on this Earth, then I wanted to at least have one moment's pleasure, however faint and fleeting.
"Who would have thought little Aignéis would be able to bring the infamous Steel family to its knees? If I were Blaine, I'd let us cut that little bastard out of your belly before I'd give up London."
I shuddered as my moment's peace was shattered by Michael's cold, disparaging voice, and looked up to see him carelessly flick his knife back and forth between his fingers as he leaned against the pallets nearest to where I sat tied to a chair. My dad had ordered him to watch over me while he and Devlen set up their men around the perimeters, to make sure they were prepared in case the Steels were planning an ambush. My father's orders were clear-if anything was amiss, Michael was to plunge the knife first into my belly, and then into my heart. He had given him the orders right in front of me, undoubtedly because he wanted to relish the sick wave of fear his words inspired.