Kidnapped by the Billionaire(52)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The storage facility was situated in what used to be a parking garage  near Hell's Kitchen, a slick and shiny operation manned by a  self-important fuck with an oily smile who made it very clear that if  Violet wasn't authorized to have access to the storage locker then  access she wasn't going to get.         

     



 

The guy was only doing his job, but Elijah didn't give a shit whether  Violet was authorized or not. She needed to follow up that lead on her  brother, and he was going to help her.

Yeah, he'd told her it was because he didn't want her distracted when  they went to meet Jericho, but that was bullshit. And he knew she hadn't  believed him. Yet he couldn't tell her the truth, not when he could  barely admit it to himself.

This mattered to her, and so it mattered to him. Because he couldn't get  out of his head the look on her face the day before after she'd ended  the call with her mother, the bleakness in her eyes. It hurt him, made  him feel like shit, brought back all the terrible memories of how Marie  had disappeared, how he'd searched and searched for her and hadn't been  able to find her.

Not knowing what had happened to a person drove you insane, and he didn't want that for Violet.

So when the prick behind the counter shook his head dismissively at  Violet, Elijah gave him one of his terrifying smiles, the one that was  usually a warning to anyone with any sense of self-preservation. "I  suggest you give Miss Fitzgerald the key to the locker," he said,  letting menace drip from each word. "Unless you like dealing with very  difficult customers."

The man squinted at him and then, obviously seeing the violence in his  eyes, paled. "I'm sorry, sir. I can't. It's against company policy."

Elijah had his Colt in the waistband of his jeans, but he wouldn't need  it. A bit of friendly persuasion should do the trick. He moved,  lightning fast, reaching out and grabbing the guy's shirt, hauling him  half over the counter. The man made a strangled sound, fear moving  across his face.

Elijah gripped him tightly, keeping that cold smile on his face. "May I suggest you make an exception?"

The guy, proving he had shit for brains, tried to struggle. "I'll call the police!"

But it was Violet who answered, her voice full of scorn. "Call away. The  police chief is a friend of my father's, and I'm not sure he'll be too  happy when I tell him I was only trying to retrieve something from my  brother's locker. Especially seeing as how he's a real family-oriented  kind of guy."

The man panted, looking from Elijah to Violet, then back again.

"Make a decision, prick," Elijah said coldly. "Miss Fitzgerald's a busy woman."

In answer, the man fumbled around with something behind the counter,  which he eventually pushed across toward them. "Here's the key. Now let  me go."

Violet picked it up, giving the man a disdainful look. "Excellent. If  you're lucky you might get to keep your job. You can let him go now, Mr.  Hunt."

Clearly she was playing up her princess role.

Elijah released the man, but gave him a hard, narrow look. "You call  anyone, anyone at all, and I'll have your hide. Understand me?"

The guy gave a jerky nod, looking like he was going to piss himself.

Violet was already walking in the direction of the lockers so, dismissing the front-desk guy, Elijah turned and followed her.

There were surveillance cameras everywhere, and no doubt their  altercation with the front-desk guy was caught on tape, but Elijah  wasn't concerned. He had a hacker contact who could probably get in and  erase anything that needed to be erased.

He texted the contact as they moved down the narrow corridor, windows  onto the city on one side, the small numbered doors of the storage  lockers on the other.

Eventually Violet slowed and came to a stop in front of one. She didn't  do anything for a moment, staring at the number on the front. Her face  had gone pale and there were dark rings under her eyes.

No big surprise given everything that had happened the day before. Not  to mention the fact that he hadn't let her sleep much the night before.

His cock, the inappropriate fuck, hardened at the memory of smooth,  satiny skin and musky, feminine heat. The sounds of her cries in his  ears. Oh yeah, and not forgetting the blowjob she'd given him that  morning. Been a long, long time since he'd gotten one of those.

His instinct had been to push her away the moment she'd started touching  him, but he just hadn't been able to make himself do it. His body had  wanted the pleasure, had craved the touch, and especially given  everything they'd done the night before, holding back had seemed  ridiculous.

So he'd let her. And the feeling of her mouth around his dick had been  …   fucking heaven. Hot and wet and, Jesus, so good. Too good. He'd sat  there, looking down at her, the orgasm resounding in his skull, his  brain furiously trying to make plans for how he could keep her after the  whole Jericho thing had been resolved.         

     



 

Which was crazy. Because he didn't want to keep her. What he wanted was  to grab the reins of her father's empire and take it apart piece by  piece. And if he needed sex, he could have it from any woman, he didn't  actually have to have it from Violet.

Pushing away the desire and the tight, uncomfortable feeling in his  chest as he watched Violet look at the storage-locker door, he said, "Do  you want me to open it?"

Slowly, she shook her head. "No. I have to do this."

"Don't be afraid." The words came out of him before he knew he'd meant  to speak. And he really didn't know why he'd said them, because there  wasn't anything to be afraid of. Yet he could sense her fear and knew  what it was. The fear of hope. The fear of pain.

Her head turned, her vivid eyes meeting his. She didn't speak, but there  was something wordlessly grateful in her gaze that had him moving  closer to her, unconsciously thinking to add his strength to hers. Not  that she needed it. This woman could probably take on the world if she  had to.

Violet looked away and approached the door, grasping the padlock and  unlocking it with a sharp, definite movement. Then she pulled it open.

A soft sound escaped her.

Elijah frowned, staring into the locker. It wasn't very big and what was  there seemed to be pretty standard stuff: some clothes, an electric  guitar in a case, a football, some books, and a whole stack of what  looked like vintage vinyl. The guy must have liked his music.

Violet had moved closer, pushing a few things aside, sorting through the  clothes then sliding aside the big stack of vinyl. The look on her face  was closed, her mouth in a hard line.

Was this difficult for her? Going through her brother's things? It had  to be, surely, even after he'd been gone so long. He remembered suddenly  the sight of Violet holding the book Marie had given him for their  first wedding anniversary, how the pain had caught at him like a blow,  shocking and somehow even more painful because he hadn't been expecting  it.

He remembered opening the present and seeing Marie's face watching him,  alight with anticipation and pleasure. She knew he'd liked old science  fiction and the first-edition Heinlein had been perfect. Paper, she'd  said. For our first anniversary.

Grief shifted inside him again and he found himself reaching for Violet,  needing to touch her, to have her soft, cool fingers on him. He stopped  himself at the last minute. He didn't need anything from her, and now  was certainly not the time.

"Are you okay?" he asked instead, keeping his tone flat and uninflected.

She didn't look at him. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's just  …  memories."

He wanted to say he understood, but he didn't. That way lay a slippery  slope and he wasn't going to fall down it. "See anything that might be  of interest?"

"No. Not really. I thought that maybe-" She stopped all of a sudden.  "Wait a second." Reaching past a stack of books, she pulled out an  envelope. Her name was written on it.

Her hand was shaking and she stared at it like it contained her death  warrant, and this time he couldn't stop himself. He closed the distance  between them, wrapping his fingers around her wrist to stop the shakes.

Her gaze snapped to his, eyes wide.

"It's okay," he said, lying through his teeth, because obviously this  was very far from okay, but wanting to reassure her nevertheless. "Open  the envelope, princess."

She looked back down at the manila envelope in her hand, her name  scrawled across it in a bold, flowing script, and swallowed. Then she  gently pulled away from him, the shakes now gone. With a quick motion  she ripped it open and looked inside, frowning. Tipping it up, she held  out her hand and caught the small USB memory stick that slid out into  her palm.

Well, that settled it. Whether her brother was alive or not, he was  trying to tell his sister something. And whatever it was, the answer was  on that memory stick.

"He knew," Violet whispered, staring down at the small piece of electronics in her hand. "I think he knew."