Page 46 of The Kingpin's Omega Lover
His voice faded in the gusting wind and rising noise of the city all around him. Malori wasn’t up here, either. “That’s not possible,” he said to the sky. Other than the elevators and the roof, the penthouse didn’t have any other exit points. The emergency stairwell didn’t reach this high.
There were still hiding places, like the utility room, and the other empty bedrooms, but why would Malori hide? He’d seemed perfectly fine at the pool, not a hint of fear or concern. Before King alarmed anyone else, he started at the terrace and began a careful, room by room search of his penthouse. Inside every closet, under every bed, no nook unchecked.
Malori was gone.
Furious and scared, King called Garvey. “Get Bishop and Kensley upstairs fast, but don’t scare them.”
“Yes, sir,” Garvey replied, not a single question asked.
King returned to the lobby, where Hartford was pacing. “Malori isn’t anywhere in the penthouse,” King snapped. “Is it possible he got on the elevator?”
“Not a chance,” Hartford replied, an affronted frown twisting his mouth. “I was here the entire time, hand to Heavenly Father. No one got on or off the elevator except you.”
“The others are coming up. I need exact floorplans for this unit, every square inch of it. Malori has to be here somewhere.”
“It should be on your computer, sir, with the other security protocol.”
“Good. When Bishop gets here, send him to my office.” King sprinted down the hallway, willing his heart to stay calm, his temper not to soar. He was confused and out of the loop, and he hated those positions in any situation, but especially where his family was concerned. Where was Malori hiding? And why?
The only thing that made sense was, instead of needing to take a dump, Malori had felt the sudden onset of his fertile period, and he’d sought solitude to wait it out. That would make sense, if he’d simply barricaded himself in his old bedroom. This was bigger. Scarier. And it was the wrong time of the month.
Except Kensley’s fertility had been triggered by sex with his charus, and he’d gotten pregnant completely by accident. But that wasn’t the same. Malori wasn’t King’s charus…was he?
King logged onto his computer and found the security protocol folder. Sure enough, complete, detailed floorplans were in there. He had them onscreen when Bishop strode into the office, still in damp swim shorts and flip-flops, and ripping the plastic bag off his wrist.
“Malori’s missing?” Bishop asked. “How the hell is that possible?”
“It shouldn’t be. I’ve searched the entire damned penthouse, and I can’t find him. He isn’t answering his phone.” Kingscanned the second-tier floorplan. “There has to be something. A hidden compartment.”
“But why would he hide?”
“I don’t fucking know!” King bit back on his temper. “He was fine earlier. I just don’t know, Bishop.”
“Okay. I’ll call Ziggy, have him immediately start tracking Malori’s phone, in case he somehow got out of here.”
King couldn’t fathom a single reason why Malori would sneak out, but even if he did, Malori was too smart to take a traceable cell phone. Bishop knew it, too, but this was something they couldbe doing. “Do that. And then double-check the security footage from our lobby. I believe Hartford never left his post, but I need to know.”
“On it.” Bishop snagged the tablet off King’s desk, then moved to the far side of the room to make his call.
“Where did you go?” King asked the computer screen, willing the answer to pop out at him. Willing Malori to tell him where he was hiding.
Malori shivered despite the heat of the day, aware of the dangerous position he’d put himself in by betraying King’s trust and sneaking out of the penthouse. He stood on the corner with the high-rise behind him, desperate to hail one of the dozen taxis scurrying past him.
He needed a ride, damn it, and soon. Before anyone realized he wasn’t home.
Leaving the way he had was dangerous, and he had an aching shin to prove it. Taking the elevator had never been an option, because it was always guarded. Sneaking away from the pool directly wouldn’t have worked, because Malori needed to changeback into real clothes. And he’d needed to procure the item he’d ordered earlier in the week. He’d received an email from the concierge that the package was waiting for him downstairs, but Malori hadn’t been able to collect it yet.
He wasn’t allowed to leave the penthouse alone, which he understood for safety reasons. But the restrictions had begun to chafe since that first DVD arrival, like a collar tightening around his neck. He adored King for trying to keep him safe, but Malori had a fucking mind of his own. He had to find his kids, period, and Aleks was his only lead to their locations.
Yesterday, he’d studied the penthouse’s floorplans, and he’d found his escape route, via the air duct returns on the roof. Ducts he was barely skinny enough to fit through, and that led him to a utility room three floors below the penthouse. A floor with access to the fire stairs and a direct line to the ground floor. He’d collected his package from the concierge and then fled.
Choosing to leave this way had torn him up inside, but it was now or never. If his sleuthing was correct, tonight was his best shot at confronting Aleks on neutral ground.
A taxi finally pulled over, and Malori got in the back. “Where to?” the driver asked.
“I need a men’s clothing store,” Malori replied. “One that sells high-end suits for formal events.”
“How about Hyman’s over on 11thStreet?”
