Page 39 of Filthy Rich Temptation
I kept it together around Sadie and little Lottie. Kept the lid screwed on tight.
But now I’m free of them… now it’s just me and the rage… and her words on repeat in my head. Of what he did – his rules, his cruelty, his control.
How long had she endured the worst before finally breaking free?
‘We don’t have a location for him yet,’ Axel says into my silence.
‘You must have some idea!’
He doesn’t answer right away. Just shifts in his seat, fist flexing. Then he mutters, low and bitter: ‘We’ve got nothing. No cards. No hotel check-ins. No digital footprint. No paper trail.’ A muscle tics in his temple. ‘He’s ghosted.’
‘Christ, if you and your team can’t find him, what hope have the Garda got?’
He exhales hard through his nose. ‘It’s surprisingly easy to disappear when you’re desperate… and smart about it.’
‘Fuck. Just give me something. Anything.’
‘We’re watching the docks, the airports, the ferries. Every exit route in and out of the country is flagged. We’ve got contacts in immigration, customs, even a guy in Dublin who scrubs CCTV feeds. If he so much as shows his face, we’ll know. But guys like him… they don’t always bolt; they stay close, take shelter with people they trust.’
‘Unless he’s coming for her, then he’ll have to cross the border.’ I clench my jaw so tight I hear it creak. ‘What’s the point in a restraining order if he can just break it and vanish? What kind of justice leaves her holed up in my apartment, too scared to step outside, while he roams free?’
‘You’re asking the wrong man…’
I grunt. The law and Axel go way back – none of it good. He’s been cuffed, cornered, questioned since he was old enough to spit back. Now he plays nice when he has to, but trust? That’s long dead.
‘I took her to Hyde Park today, and the difference in her once we stepped outside…’ I drag a hand down my face. ‘She flinched at every sound, every passer-by that got too close, her eyes darting around like some hunted animal. She used to be the life of the party, Axel. You remember? Bold, confident, funny… lighting up every room she walked into. And her followers loved that spark. Now she can’t even take her kid to the swings without breaking into a cold sweat. She’s terrified of her own goddamn shadow out there.’
‘Give her time,’ he says. ‘The more she gets out, the more she’ll feel in control. That fear’ll ease. She just needs to feel safe again. Once she does, the rest will follow.’
‘But how can she feel safe when we don’t even know where he is?!’
The tattooed knuckles on one hand flash white as Axel grips his knee. He’s hating this. Almost as much as I am.
‘We’re watching social media, too. Friends, old contacts, any account that might be tied to him or his circle. We’ve already flagged two burner profiles watching Sadie’s public accounts. Could be him. Could be someone feeding him updates.’
‘She won’t post anything now. She’s not stupid. Her phone, tablet, laptop – hell, even her Netflix account – are all new and untraceable.’
‘Either way, we’ve got eyes on it. And unless he’s got an endless supply of cash and places to crash, he’ll have to surface eventually.’
‘And when he does…’ I grind out.
‘And when he does,’ Axel echoes, too smooth, too calm. ‘We’ll hand him over to the Garda. Let the system deal with him.’
‘Because the system did such a bang-up job protecting her before.’
‘It’s what we agreed.’
‘Yeah, well, I’m not feeling so law-abiding these days.’
Axel chokes on his beer and gives a rough laugh. ‘Funny hearing that from you. Usually, you’re the one pulling me back from the edge, but this…’ He rests his pint glass on the arm of his chair, settles that cool, measured gaze on me. ‘Let’s stick to the plan. Drag the bastard out of hiding, haul his arse to the station. Let the law deal with him.’
‘I’d rather break his face first. Then you haul him in.’
His heavy brows pull into a scowl, eyes glittering under the club lights as he runs a hand over his beard. Even without the tattoos snaking up his arms and neck, he’s menacing. Meet him in a dark alley without knowing him, you’d piss yourself and run.
Hell, sometimes evenknowinghim, I want to run.
But loyalty? That’s ironclad.
