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“I need to find someone who knows what they’re doing. Clearly, the detectives I hired are incompetent.”
“I’m not trying to play devil’s advocate here, man,” L. J. says, “but even in the twenty-first century, if someone doesn’t want to be found, they won’t be. There’s that famous case of the French engineer, Xavier Dupont de Ligonnès, who murdered his whole family and buried their bodies under the house. To this day, no one has any idea where he is, even though Interpol and multiple national police forces have been hunting him.”
“You’re talking about a criminal—someone who carefully planned out the eradication of his wife and kids. Taylor is a newly twenty-three-year-old girl. She didn’t run off—I’m certain.”
“Because she wouldn’t need to ‘run.’ She’s free, William. There’s nothing more to say about that,” Athanasios remarks.
“You know what I meant.”
“Here’s some advice: take a vacation.”
“Not until I find her. She doesn’t have anyone else, but she has me.”
* * *
I see the beginnings of her smile and the dimple in her chin appear whenever she tries not to judge me for being a damned arrogant man. Those eyes—which keep avoiding mine—are now seeking me out, just like her hungry mouth.
She crawls over my body, naked, with tangled sheets around her waist. Her firm breasts sway in my direction, and when I extend a hand to touch one nipple, she moans for me.
“You don’t trust me, William.”
“I do, but I’m crazy about you, and I let my jealousy take over.”
“I don’t believe that. All you want is sex.”
She lifts the sheet and sees my erection, proving I can’t resist what she’s offering. Her hand circles my length, and her head inclines to take me in.
“No.” I stop her. “We have to talk. I didn’t tell you what I needed to, when I left your place that day.”
“You lost your chance. Now you’ll never speak to me again. But I’ll give you what you want,” she says, trying once more to take me into her mouth.
I don’t let her, pulling her on top of me again. “I want more.” I finally confess what I’ve been holding back since the last time we met.
She lifts her gaze. “I wanted more too, but now it’s too late. I left forever.”
“No. I’ll never let you go, Taylor. You’re mine.”
She laughs. “Too late, William.”
I wake with a start, bolting upright in bed, cold sweat running down my spine.
Another month has passed, and I still haven’t heard a thing about her. I’m at the point that, since neither the police nor the detectives can find her, I might consider turning to organized crime.
When I said that to my best friends, they laughed, but they have no idea I’d do absolutely anything to bring her back.
I stand and walk to the window of my bedroom, staring blindly into the night outside.
“It’s not too late, Taylor. This time, I’ll do everything right. I’ll bring you back to me.”
Taylor
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
The wristwatchthat bastard gave me is my only link to the real world. Through it, I keep track of the days and months. It’s also a reminder not only that life is moving on but that my time is running out.
Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.
I’ve learned a bit about my personal monster. There’s something peculiar about wanting to own or control someone: that possession and control bounce back on you, too. He keeps me prisoner, but I’m learning to control his mind. His desire for me is my weapon. His growing confidence that I’m coming around is his weakness.