Page 89 of Chained By Fate (Dark Billionaires: Vegas #1)

Thirty-Six

MATT

F ive hours ago, Matt had been wrestling with a crisis in the Asian markets, making calls and pulling strings until the situation stabilized.

Now, at three a.m., he was still staring at spreadsheets, though for entirely different reasons.

If financial reports could kill, he’d have been six feet under hours ago.

The Vegas skyline winked at him through his office windows, as if mocking his dedication to responsible business ownership.

His phone buzzed. Scott Maxwell’s name lit up the screen, and Matt’s stomach dropped. A Maxwell calling this late meant someone was either dead, dying, or wishing they were dead.

“Scott,” he answered, already dreading whatever chaos was about to enter his perfectly ordered world. “Please tell me James hasn’t bought another island.”

“Matt.” Scott’s voice could have frozen hell. “It’s Mia. She’s been taken.”

Well, fuck . The spreadsheet suddenly looked as insignificant as his last board meeting. “Taken as in decided to take a spontaneous vacation taken, or?—”

“Kidnapped, Matt. James is…” He paused. “Let’s just say I’ve never seen him like this.”

“Christ.” Matt was already shutting down his computer, mind racing. Andy. Sweet Jesus, Andy . His boy was going to implode. “I’m on my way. Try to keep James from declaring war on anyone until I get there.”

The penthouse was quiet when he entered, peaceful in a way he knew wouldn’t last past the next five minutes. The irony wasn’t lost on him.

“Andy?” he called softly, like he was approaching a sleeping tiger. A very cute tiger in his clothes, he amended, finding Andy curled up in their bed wearing one of Matt’s dress shirts. Any other night, that sight would’ve led to much more entertaining activities than delivering devastating news.

“Matt?” Andy blinked up at him with those eyes that usually spelled trouble for Matt’s self-control. “You’re still wearing your suit. Did your spreadsheets finally stage a revolt?”

God, give me strength . Matt sat on the bed, reaching out to brush Andy’s messy hair from his face. “Andy, pet, I need you to channel all that Donovan stubbornness right now, okay?”

Andy’s eyes sharpened, sleep vanishing faster than Matt’s patience at board meetings. “What happened?”

“It’s Mia,” Matt said gently, watching Andy’s face like a bomb timer. “She’s been taken.”

The color drained from Andy’s face so fast Matt wondered if he should’ve brought smelling salts.

“Taken?” Andy’s voice cracked like fine china. “No, that’s—she was with James; she was supposed to be safe. She—” His breathing hitched, panic rising like a tide. “Oh God, Matt, what if they hurt her? What if—like they did to me— I can’t?—”

“Hey.” Matt caught Andy’s face between his hands, forcing those wild eyes to meet his. “Focus on me, firecracker. We’re going to find her. If I have to buy half of LA and turn it upside down, we’ll bring her home.”

Andy’s entire body trembled like a leaf in a hurricane. “We need to go; we have to find her. Please, Matt?—”

“Already handled. The jet’s being prepped as we speak.” Matt pulled Andy against his chest. “James has his best teams mobilized across California by now. Trust me, when James Maxwell wants something found, it gets found.”

“Promise?” Andy’s fingers twisted in Matt’s jacket like a lifeline. “Promise me we’ll find her?”

Matt pressed his lips to Andy’s temple, breathing in the scent of his shampoo and fear. “I promise you, Andy. We’ll find her. I won’t rest until we do.”

“I can’t lose her, Matt. She’s all I have.”

“Hey.” Matt pulled back just enough to meet Andy’s eyes, his voice fierce. “She’s not all you have anymore. You have me. You have us. And trust me, whoever took her just made the biggest mistake of their life.”

Andy nodded, suddenly bursting into action. He scrambled out of bed, nearly face-planting as his feet tangled in the sheets. “We need to go. Now.”

Matt watched with equal parts concern and amusement as Andy turned their closet into a war zone, clothes flying everywhere. “Pet?—”

“Don’t pet me, we need to— Why won’t this stupid shirt—” Andy was trying to put his head through an armhole.

“That’s because it’s backward. And inside out,” Matt pointed out, moving to help. “And those are my pants.”

Andy looked down at the suit pants pooled around his feet. “Why are they so long?”

Matt efficiently helped Andy into proper clothes and fix his shirt buttons, which he’d somehow managed to misalign completely.

“Nearly done,” Andy said, hopping on one foot as he fought with his sock and grabbed the first jacket he saw—which happened to be Matt’s favorite—and practically swam in it. The sleeves dangled well past his fingertips.

“That’s mine,” Matt said, already reaching for it.

“No time to change.” Andy was already halfway to the door, the jacket’s hem nearly touching his knees. “Mia needs us.”

Matt caught him by the oversized sleeve. “Here.” He efficiently stripped the jacket off Andy and replaced it with a more appropriately sized one.

“Did you just ninja my clothes?”

“Let’s just say I’m a fast learner when it comes to getting you out of things, pup.”

Andy’s cheeks flushed pink even as he scowled. “This is not the time for?—”

“For me to be right?” Matt was already pulling out his phone, his playful tone shifting to business. “Eddie. Cars. Now.”

Andy was out the door before Matt could finish the call, nearly colliding with Bruno who had materialized from his post with Tyrone. The two bodyguards fell into step behind them as Matt caught up, steadying Andy with one hand when he stumbled in his rush to reach the elevator.

“I can walk,” Andy muttered, though he was practically vibrating with nervous energy.

“Really? Because that intimate moment with gravity suggests otherwise, pup.”

The elevator descended with agonizing slowness, Bruno and Tyrone’s stoic presence making the space feel smaller. Andy’s fingers drummed against the wall, then his thigh, then tried to murder the elevator buttons.

Eddie was waiting in the private garage with two black SUVs, engine already running. “Everything’s ready, boss.”

“Good.” Matt guided Andy into the back seat of the first vehicle, Bruno and Tyrone efficiently taking their positions. Eddie slid into the driver’s seat, his usual unflappable demeanor firmly in place.

The two SUVs cut through Vegas’ neon-lit streets in perfect formation, Eddie smoothly avoiding the usual tourist chaos while Bruno and Tyrone maintained their silent vigil. Andy was too busy attempting to merge with his phone screen, refreshing his messages every thirty seconds.

“The phone won’t ring faster if you strangle it,” Matt observed, watching Andy’s knuckles turn white around the device.

“James could have news,” Andy muttered, then swore as his phone slipped from his trembling fingers and disappeared under the seat. He lunged for it, only to be stopped by both Matt’s arm and Bruno’s disapproving grunt from the front seat.

Matt pulled Andy back upright. “Seat belt, pup. Your sister won’t thank me if I let you become a safety statistic.”

“But my phone?—”

“Will still be there when we reach the airport.” Matt’s hand found Andy’s knee, squeezing gently. “Breathe for me.”

Andy inhaled shakily. “I hate when you’re reasonable.”

“One of us has to be. And we both know it’s never going to be you.”

The convoy pulled onto the private airstrip, Matt’s jet already humming with promise. Eddie positioned the SUVs with military precision while Bruno and Tyrone immediately moved to secure the perimeter.

“They’re very… efficient,” Andy observed, watching his bodyguards scan the area.

“They’re paid to keep you alive, pet. Even if that means protecting you from your own impulsive tendencies.”

Andy’s lips twitched despite himself. “I’m not that bad.” He tensed as Eddie opened their door. “Matt, what if?—”

“Don’t.” Matt squeezed his hand. “No what-ifs. We’re going to find her.”

The jet gleamed under the airstrip lights, its stairs already lowered. Bruno and Tyrone performed a quick sweep of the cabin while Eddie coordinated with the pilot, their efficiency speaking of countless similar situations.

“All clear, boss,” Eddie reported as Matt guided Andy up the stairs.

“Mr. Caine,” his pilot, Davidson, greeted them. “Weather’s clear to LA. We’re ready for immediate takeoff.”

“ Finally ,” Andy breathed, making his way to a seat. Bruno and Tyrone took strategic positions—Bruno near Andy, Tyrone by the cabin door—their presence both reassuring and imposing.

“I assume you’ve filed the flight plan?” Matt asked, watching Andy battle with his seat belt like it had personally offended him.

“Of course, sir.” Davidson’s poker face didn’t twitch. “Though I should mention Mr. Maxwell called. Three times. In the last ten minutes.”

“Only three? He must be distracted.” Matt moved to help Andy, who was now somehow tangled in not just his own seat belt, but the one from the adjacent seat as well. Even Bruno’s stoic expression cracked slightly at the sight. “Pup, how did you even?—”

“Don’t ask,” Andy muttered, face flushed. “Just fix it.”

Matt efficiently untangled him, pressing a kiss to his temple before buckling him in properly. “Try not to get into a fight with any more aircraft safety equipment while I make a call.”

Eddie stepped forward. “I’ll handle the arrangements on the ground, sir. Mr. Maxwell’s security team is expecting us.”

“Good.” Matt pulled out his phone, moving toward the front of the cabin. James answered on the first ring.

“Where the hell are you?” James’ voice crackled with barely contained fury.

“Hello to you too, sunshine. We’re about to take off.” Matt caught Eddie’s eye, receiving a confirming nod that everything was secure.

“Good. I have updates.” James’ voice was tight enough to snap. “Tell Andy… tell him she’s smart. She left us breadcrumbs.”