Caught by Emma Louise
Chapter Thirty-Two
Needing a minute away from the madness of the meeting room, I go into the reception area. Leaning my hands on the desk there, I force myself to take some deep breaths, trying my best to keep the rage I feel burning in me at bay. It doesn’t help that I can feel her all around me. She’s become a part of this place just like she has become a part of my house. She’s invaded every facet of my life, and now that she isn't here, I realize just how much I want that from her. I want her life entwined with mine. I want her busting my ass here at work, and I want to bicker with her at home about who is doing laundry or making dinner. I want the life we’ve unknowingly already started creating with each other.
Dropping my body down into her seat, I watch as the minute hand ticks around the clock that sits above Darcey's desk. Time feels like it's stopped. There hasn't been a single word from her. Not from anyone. Whoever has her hasn't asked for anything. No calls demanding money, no notes, no emails, no fucking anything that could give even the smallest clue as to where she is. There's no sign of her in any hospitals, no police reports with unnamed females being found. There are men at the airport checking all commercial flights, there are men out searching for the vehicle she was last seen in. Even though the plates were fake, they're still out there searching every square inch of this damned city. She's gone, vanished without a fucking trace.
The wait is killing me. Each tick of that clock sends me further and further toward a ledge that I'm not sure I'll be able to step back from. I need her back. I need to see her face. I need to know she's okay because I'm coming out of my skin here without her.
Leaning over her desk, I grab the picture frame that she put there just a few short days ago. Darcey sat on the boat, phone raised high so she could get Cass and me in the shot too. We're at the other end of the boat, me kneeling next to Cassidy, both of us with fishing rods in hand. Even with the ridiculously big sunglasses on, I know that smile on Darcey's face reaches all the way to her eyes. I know because the second she put the phone down after taking the picture, she moved toward me. She pushed the glasses up into that thick mane of hair, and she shined the light that was her smile down on me. I felt that. The sheer brilliance of her smile. I knew then that I'd do anything to make sure she wore a smile just like that as much as possible in the future. Just a few days later and I've already failed in that mission.
Seeing her smiling face looking up at me from that frame has rage pulsing at my temples. I have to get her back.
The meeting room is packed when I get back there a few minutes later. Guys I've never met before fill the seats at the table, laptops open, cell phones at their ears. It's loud, and there are people everywhere, but I don't think I've ever felt so alone. Alone and so fucking useless. I should be out there searching for her. I should be ripping the city apart until she's home and safe, not just waiting for someone else to find her for me.
"She's going to be fine," Liam says from where he's been hovering by my side this whole time. I'm pretty sure he's waiting for me to lose my shit. "You'll find her, and she'll be home soon." He drops a hand on my shoulder, giving it a strong, reassuring squeeze.
I want to believe what he says, I'm desperate to believe him, but the heavy feeling of dread that sits low in my gut just won’t let me. "She's a fucking ghost, Delaney. Whoever has her—"
"Will fuck up. They'll make a mistake, and then we'll get them."
"He's right. They fucked up," Mark Dixon says as he moves our way. The phone is in his hand still at his ear as he speaks to me. "Your brother’s place has cameras, but they knew the clubhouse well enough to know that and kept just out of view. We couldn't get anything about who grabbed her or the van they were using other than it was big and black."
"Is there a reason why you think this is them fucking up?" I growl, frustrated that he isn't just getting straight to the damn point.
"The clubhouse couldn't get them, but the gas station a couple of blocks over did. We picked up images of them ditching the van and switching to a car."
"Hey, Twilight. We got 'em!" One of the guys calls out to Mark, using his call sign. He lifts his hand in acknowledgment of whoever it was that spoke, but continues talking to me.
"We ran the plates, found who owns the car," he says, not giving me anything else.
"Stop dicking with me," I growl through gritted teeth. "Tell me who it is and where the fuck they are, so I can go and get her back."
He stares at me instead of speaking, and I can't get a lock on what he's thinking. I feel someone at my back, and I don't have to turn around to know that Crew is there. I'd bet my life on Gavin being there too, just like Felix would be if he wasn't out chasing a lead.
"Just fucking tell me, Mark. Tell me whatever it is you're holding back before I lose my fucking mind."
"It's your wife. She's the one who took Darcey."
The blood that was just burning in my veins turns to ice at his words. It makes absolutely no sense at the same time as it makes all the sense in the world that it would be that bitch who would be the one to do something like this. Without saying a word, I'm moving out. I'm going to find her, and I'm going to fucking kill her if she's harmed one hair on Darcey's head.