“Does Dad know?” Wyatt presses his palm on the electric lock, and the elevator hums as it descends.
“I don’t think so. Can you go tell him Ashlyn needs him?”
With another suspicious glance at me, he nods. “Yeah, I think he’s still in the party room. Who are all those guys?”
The doors slide open, and Pippi waves a hand for me to enter. I don’t hesitate.
“Don’t worry about it—” she’s saying as I ascend to the penthouse.
Reaching into my waistband, I pull out my Glock and make sure there’s a bullet in the chamber. I hold it at the ready when I hear the ding.
Floor-to-ceiling windows, two stories high, showcase an impressive view of the city. White furniture, floors, and blank spaces… But no Ashlyn.
In my dress shoes, I creep each step forward, flashing my gun around every corner. But there’s no sign of anyone. No noises…
A clear floating staircase leads to a lofted bedroom. Bed made. Empty. But down a short hall are two closed doors. When I kick open the one on my left, I hear a tiny squeak on my right.
Hurriedly, I swivel the weapon that way, aiming for the other door. The handle won’t budge when I try it.
“Ashlyn?” I ask, almost in a whisper. “Baby girl?”
I raise my fist to break the handle, but it shakes before I can. The door opens, only a sliver, and a pair of tiny blue eyes, tear-filled and full of terror, greet me.
My heart races, thudding against my ribs. I shove open the door, and my girl scrambles back, holding her hands up as if she’s protecting herself.
Rage surges through my veins. I almost vomit.
She’s a small, broken thing, hiding behind hanging clothes—hair matted, dress torn, bruises blooming across her skin. Blood on her lip.
My movements are a blur. Squatting in front of her, I graze a hand toward her, not sure where to touch. Or if I can without scaring her. As if she could float away, I gently brush back golden strands on her forehead, tucking them behind her ears. “I got you. I got you.”
She’s still frozen. Still blinking with wide-eyed fear.
The rage is clean and clinical now. There’s one thought:
I’m going to kill him.
“I’m here, baby. You’re safe now.”
Her expression crumbles. A sob claws out of her throat as she throws her body into me, latching her arms around my neck. Climbing into my lap. I surround her, protect her with my body, my warmth. Tuck my jacket around her as much as I can.
“Aiden…” she cries against my neck, and my chest constricts at how fragile she sounds. Ashlyn’s not delicate. But here, at this moment? She is.
Which makes the fury unleash, pulsing through my temples.
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know,” she hiccups through a cry. “Please… Please, can you get me out of here?”
“Yes. We’re going.”
Swinging her into my arms, I carry her as she clings to me like I’m the only thing keeping her steady.
But as I head down the stairs, the elevator doors slide open, and her father exits with two guards flanking his sides, guns drawn.
“You think you can beat the shit out of my little girl and survive? Drop her now!”
“Dad! He didn’t,” Ashlyn protests, but I’m already raising my barrel, aiming for Ace Donovan.