Page 50 of Love, Rekindled

“What has he done?”

“What hasn’t he done? The issue isn’t even the crap he pulls, it’s what he hasn’t gotten caught doing.”

Makes me think of Ashton when we were kids. My mother didn’t worry about what we were caught doing, it was the things we got away with. “Is there something he’s into now? Some reason Jackson was urgent about me coming right away?”

Ben rubs his hand down his face. “Seventy-two hours ago, he disappeared.”

“As in missing?”

Ben nods.

Jesus. What the hell kind of shit pile did I just willingly walk into? I’ve always known what Jackson does is dangerous. The man was shot, for Christsake. Then of course Aaron died—ish. Mark was kidnapped—then found.

This pep talk is really not helping.

I take a few cleansing breaths to slow my nerves. I’m not going to be in danger, I’m just here for legal help.

The key to crisis management is being level-headed. Which is what I will be.

“Have you alerted the authorities?” I ask.

“No. We can’t.”

“What?”

“We can’t. We’re operatingasthe authorities.”

“Well then,” I huff. “Why aren’t you all out there looking for him? Why are you here with me?”

“I would love nothing more than to be out there doing something instead of being stuck in this office, but life doesn’t give us what we want. I would only hinder the operation, furthering Cole Securities to be held liable for this fucking mess.”

“I’m confused.”

He pulls his pant leg up, showing me his prosthetic. “IED. So, here I am. Sidelined.”

CHAPTER 4

Ben

That look.The one that reminds me that the life I dreamed of is fucking dead. The shock that then always turns to sadness for being a broken man.

I mourned it a long time ago, but I watch it every time someone else does.

If I have to see her do it, it’ll be different.

Gretchen was that girl. The one I prayed would see we could be more than friends, and then, when we finally had our chance, I moved.

My father’s job had us go from New Jersey to Idaho and he took it because of how badly I was picked on. I hated it. I hated leaving her. I would’ve taken an ass-kicking every day if it meant that I could be with her.

Sure, we were teenagers and it probably would’ve never worked, but there was something there and then I had to bury it. When I saw her again, it came rising to the top.

“Okay, then,” Gretchen says a second later, her blonde hair falling in her face a little. “Let’s do what we can from here. I figure we can use good old detective work and brain power. I’ve never really dealt with a kidnapping in litigation, but I’m sure there’s something I watch onCSIthat could come in handy, right?”

I’m stunned slightly. No questions? No millions of options that she thinks I should do? Where is the pity? Where’s the sadness at the shattered dreams?

I wait for it, because it always comes.

I’m not sad nor do I feel bad for myself. I’m pissed, sure. I have regrets to some extent, but I’m lucky. I’m alive. Some of my friends weren’t quite so lucky.

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