Mr. Lang did a lot of ignoring – at least when it came to me lately.

Fine. Let him.

I looked at Special Agent Marcum. “I guess there hasn’t been any news.”

She didn’t respond, but her expression said it all.

Mr. Lang finally spoke to me. “Miss Gallagher, if you don't have anything specific to do, you can go.”

“I don’t work for you.” I narrowed my eyes at him.

He flicked a look at me. “No. You work for Isadora. Since she’s not…available, why'd you come in this morning?”

The disparaging tone got to me, and he gave me one of those looks, like I wasn't even worth his time. I had another sudden flash of memory – him burying himself inside that woman. My stomach twisted and I resorted to anger. He wasn’t the only one who could be an ass. He was about the meet the bitch queen. Yeah, Isadora was his sister, but I was worried about her too, and he had no reason to be acting this way.

Stepping past the agents into the office, I stopped a few feet away from the desk and folded my arms over my chest.

“I don’t recall inviting you to participate in this conversation,” he snapped at me.

“Screw you.” I didn't even glance at the lawyers, agents or the security guy looming in the background. This was between me and the ass. “You want to tell why you’ve got some bug up your ass about me, Mr. Lang?”

“I don’t have a bug up my ass as you so elegantly put it.” His jaw went tight and his eyes burned hot. “But as you are aware, my sister has gone missing. After you botched the call, the kidnapper hasn’t–”

He said something else.

I knew he did.

But after those words “you botched the call” my head sort of exploded.

Or maybe I did.

Jerking back, my spine ramrod straight, I glared at him.

“Did you just say I botched the call?” I demanded, pointing a finger at him. “I screamed my lungs out for you, asshole. But you were too busy fucking some woman’s brains out to be bothered.”

There was a faint snap.

From the corner of my eye, I saw one of the lawyers – a portly, middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair – had a pencil. Or pencils, rather. He’d snapped the one he was holding in two and didn’t even seem to notice.

The other one was staring stonily ahead as if he’d gone mute, blind and deaf.

Actually, save for my ragged breathing, there wasn’t a sound in the room.

Ash rose from his desk, harsh flags of color riding high on his cheeks. But he wasn’t blushing. He was furious.

Good.

Curling my lip at him, I said, “I was basically screaming for you, but that wasn't the screaming you were listening to, was it? I was practically running down the hall while trying to listen and remember everything that man was saying. He wasn’t going to wait for you to get your dick out of her ass, much less walk to the phone.”

The others in the room were trying so hard not to look at us, abruptly, I started to laugh at the sheer stupidity of it.

Spinning away, I tried to get myself under control. There was nothing humorous about this. Nothing. It was all just crazy…and sad. Scary. Once I had that final, bitter laugh out, I looked over at him one last time. “I was walking by the phone when it rang. I saw her number and started to call for you. It’s not my fault that you were too busy to pay attention.”

His eyes had turned to shards of ice, but I met them dead on and gave him a derisive sneer before I turned away.

“It's curious…” Ash’s voice was even colder than his stare had been and I wouldn’t have thought that was possible. But even more cutting than his tone, his gaze? The words. “You came in when you clearly weren't needed.”

Or wanted. The words hung there, unsaid, but heard all the same.

“And then the one fucking phone call that’s received? Who's here to answer it, at the exact right time? You. One might call it a coincidence.”

I turned and stared at him. A different kind of quiet covered the room.

“I don’t believe in coincidences,” he said softly.

The implication almost sent me staggering. But one lesson I’d learned early on. Never let them know they hurt you. I’d cry, later. Much later.

“Ash?” I gave him my most brazen smile. “Fuck you.”

***

Victor looked decidedly aggravated as we sat down at the pub, finding a table in the far back, away from the noise, away from the band, away from the front door…and the cops.

“You’ve got cops following you again?” I asked as I slid into the seat across from him. After my little run-in with Ash – no matter how many times I tried to get myself to think of him as Mr. Lang, I kept reverting to Ash – I wasn't in the best of moods either.

“Happens from time to time. What am I going to do?” He jerked a shoulder like it didn't matter, but I knew him better than that. While he didn't seem to be able to completely stay away from the life, he hated the general assumption that he was up to no good. It was one of the reasons he rarely got to see his son. The judge hadn't even blinked when she'd given Rachelle full custody.

We sat in silence a moment, sipping from our respective drinks. Vic always went for the cheapest shit beer, which I'd always thought strange, since when it came to everything else, he went for the things that were out of his reach.

I was on my second rum and coke, and lamenting over my lack of foresight. I should have requested a double. I didn't care that it was barely mid-afternoon. I was going to need it, the way things were going. I was scared for Isadora. I'd missed an important final and even if I could pass my class without it, I didn't like not doing things. And, of course, there was always the looming question of my employment.

If I lost my job, what would I do?

I only had a couple more months until I finished my degree and I'd already started scouting out places to send my resumé. Hopefully, by the time I got my diploma, I'd have a job lined up. But that wouldn't do me any good if I lost this one now.

After the server put down a basket of fries, I swiped one before Victor could drown them in salt, then asked, “I guess you haven’t heard of anything.”

He shook his head. “No.” He glanced around and then asked in a low voice, “How come none of this is on the news, Toni? She’s a fucking heiress. It should be a headline story. I mean, people are talking, but not as much as they should be.”

“Her brother shut them down, I guess.” I tipped my glass in Vic's direction. “What can I say? Money talks.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Victor sighed, his face grim. “It sings, Toni. Like a fucking siren.”

“That’s almost poetic.”

He surprised me with a quick, rakish grin, the kind that had come much easier when he'd been younger.

“I’m a regular renaissance man.” He reached out and put his hand over mine. “I’m sorry, Toni. I know you want to help and I want to help you. It feels like…I dunno, redemption, in a way. But nothing's turning up.”

I wrapped both of my hands around his bigger one. “Keep your ears open?”

“Bet your ass.”

Chapter 8

Ash

“Yes, yes. I've got it.” I closed my eyes as Melody Strum, my assistant, rattled off a few more details about the upcoming takeover.

I hadn't been to work since Isadora had been kidnapped, but it had been nearly a week and things had to be done. I had a board, but I was the CEO and I was usually the one who made all of the important decisions. Except, how was I expected to work at a time like this? My brain was feeding me every horror story I'd ever heard or read about kidnappings.

This was my worst nightmare. Only it was real.