“Good, because I recognized some of the places on Di’s screens,” E says before leaving the car.
It takes me a second to compute his words before scrambling out to follow E. I’m the one following him into the house, the garage opening to the mud room beside the kitchen. “Wait. What do you mean?”
“Di was watching my dad,” E says, and it’s not a question. “But she didn’t have cameras on all of his properties.”
“You know we were looking into your father?” I ask suspiciously. I know he and Di talked, and his dad came up, but that seems like more than Di would have given up.
“I didn’t. I do now,” E shrugs and runs fingers through his hair. He’s pacing and gesticulating while he works through his thoughts out loud, shuffling in the too-big shoes. “He’s a bad guy, and you want to keep me. Maybe you want to take him out so no one comes looking for me? Not that he would.”
“You don’t think your father would care that you were kidnapped by a notorious killer?” I ask, gauging the truth of his statement.
From what little E’s told me, and what Di has found, it’s likely not a stretch. I’ve been reluctant to go after Thomas Miller, partially because I don’t know where he is, but also having E as my pet complicates things. Not emotionally, but from a public standpoint. I’ve been ignoring the rumors about my sighting with him, but if I ever let him leave the house, he’ll be with me and people will notice.
“Maybe? I don’t know. He did cut me off and say I was no son of his after he changed the locks at the New York house.” E takes a seat on the bench beside the door and rubs his face. “I won’t shed a tear for that man when he goes, even though I will be left without a dime.”
“Apparently I’ve underestimated your dislike for the man.” I squat in front of him and remove his hands from his face. I’m wary that E’s eagerness to go after his father is a trick, but if he has information I can use… “You understand I’m saying your father sent people after Di, and I will do anything to save her.”
“She’s only in this position because of me,” E whispered, looking at our joined hands. “I should help rescue her.”
He isn’t accurate, since we were already planning to kill the man before I met his son, but I’m not going to correct him. Whether this whole thing was a plan from his father, though it would be a long game to play with his life is on the line, doesn’t matter.
“You’ll come with me,” I confirm, standing and pulling him up. “Come help me pack.”
Instructing E to get a duffle from my closet and pick a nice suit plus some casual clothes for me, I open Di’s laptop on my dresser. She has a login set up for me with access to information she’s gathered and her camera feeds, but it’s not the same as the reach at her home.
“This says your dad is likely in Cuba this week. Can you get us to the right location?” I call out to E in my walk-in dressing room.
“Pfft, I lived there every summer,” he calls back, walking out with a leather bag filled to the brim and a garment bag slung over the other arm.
Realizing he’s still in my oversized clothes, I take the bag from him. “In the laundry room beside the mudroom, your clothes and shoes are folded in the cabinet above the sink.”
E nods and leaves, and I realize I do have some trust he won’t leave me. We have a common goal. When I get Di back and take out his father, I’ll have to reassess our routine. Maybe he can move into the main house.
Clicking the folder on the screen labeled, ‘Travel Arrangements,’ I open the booking site for the charter company and book a plane for two hours from now to take us to Cuba with a refueling stop in Houston.
Finally, I open the go bag and find what I’m hoping for. A new passport for E and everything I need to find my assistant.
Chapter thirteen
E
Weboardtheplanewith Mac handing over passports for both of us. He doesn’t let me see them, but I assume it’s the same one I gave him and he won’t be giving it back. At the moment, I don’t mind. I want to go with him to find Di.
It may be the fact I’ve been alone and only seen Di and Mac for weeks, but I care about what happens to her. While I only met her once, she’s sent food with long, handwritten recipe notes a few times since then. They included stories about her family in the Dominican Republic, and how she came to learn more Mexican cuisine while living in LA.
They were my connection to the outside world, and I treasured them. Hell, I was considering asking Mac for paper so I could write her back, even though I don’t think I’ve ever sent a written letter in my life outside of passing notes in class.
Mac is detached on the plane as we take off, pulling out Di’s laptop as soon as we level out. I’m back in my own shoes and bottoms, but I kept his T-shirt on. Whether it’s the Stockholm thing or a kink bond,I want nothing more than to make him lose the frown lines on his forehead. And I know exactly how to do that.
After Mac dismisses the flight attendant, telling her we are fine with water and don’t want to be disturbed until she serves food in an hour—he ordered for me, but it sounded good—I take off my seat belt and crawl to kneel before him.
“What are you doing, pet?” Mac asks with his eyes still on the laptop screen.
“Do you have phone calls to make and emails to send, Sir?” I ask, walking my fingers up his leg to slip under the device.
“I do,” Mac confirms, looking at me without closing the laptop. “Why?”
Shrugging, I lick my lips and look pointedly at his lap. “Because I can take care of you the way I normally do. We were interrupted earlier, Sir.”