Chapter 46

Gabriel

Damien was a plague. Once he made up his mind, there was no changing it. He got what he wanted, no matter the cost. And, for some reason, he was determined to meet my wife and family before returning to whatever hellhole he'd crawled out of. I knew better than to try and stop him.

I didn't mind him meeting Freckles, despite my earlier reservations. Damien was an important part of my life, even if I didn't like discussing his questionable choices and lifestyle. And I knew my mother would cry for hours holding him when she learned he was here.

But a family reunion was secondary to getting my wife back.

Four hours after landing, we were nearing her hometown. Damien, plague-like as ever, came along after we'd safely delivered Zach to his wife—who would undoubtedly kill me if she knew about the "work" I'd stolen him for.

"So, no Lily?" he asked after I'd caught up on his life, his new tattoos, and the fresh blood on his hands.

"No Lily," I replied, my eyebrows furrowing. "How do you even know about Lily?"

A calm smile played on his lips. "The same way I know about your wedding."

"Were you having me tailed, little bro?"

"Don't call me that." The smile quickly soured into a frown. "And for the record, I never liked Lily. Your relationship seemed…boring."

"Look at you, acting like you know everything after vanishing for years," I retorted.

He leaned back in the seat. "What do you think of my new name? King?"

"Will you change it back to Damien Whitlock if I say I don't like it?"

"No."

"Then I like it."

Tight smiles lingered as I pulled into familiar streets. The sun had set, and the little shops were lit with dainty yellow lights, making it look like a town straight out of a small-town Christmas romance film. It was a stark contrast to the city bustle—a place I'd love to spend a few years, maybe take a break from work—if I ever took a break. Not until I'm seventy, at least.

But it was peaceful, and I found myself admiring the little things we passed, having lacked the time last time. I didn't have the time this time either, having left my wife alone for almost a week, so I pushed aside my thoughts and drove faster.

I wouldn't even mind running over someone…if their name was Sam Riley. I could get away with one murder if Damien could get away with so many.

"You look nervous," my brother commented, amused, as we walked toward her grandfather's house.

"My wife left her ring behind and came here six days ago, and I didn't call or text. Her tiny, stubborn brain has concocted some story about me not wanting her. Of course I'm nervous," I told the [expletive], enjoying my misery.

"Do you?" He raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Want her?"

I nodded. "Just her."

"Then you tell her that."

I reached out to ruffle his hair like I did when we were kids, which annoyed him. He swatted my hand away. I laughed. "Since when did you become the master of getting the girl?"

"I have zero experience with girls throwing themselves at me," he smirked. "I am a master emotional manipulator, though."

"Sure."

I knocked on her grandfather's door, covering the peephole in case it was Jim's granddaughter, who might throw a tantrum and refuse to open it.

The door opened much faster than expected, as if someone were waiting.

It wasn't the girl I wanted to see. I frowned, and her expression mirrored mine perfectly. "Gabriel."

"Alice," I greeted.

Her frown remained. "What are you doing here?"

Ignoring her, I asked, "Where's my wife?"

She crossed her arms, blocking the entryway. "You didn't remember her for six days, and now suddenly she's your wife?"

I didn't bother engaging. "I liked you when we first met because Freckles mentioned you were with her during a hard time, but my courtesy has limits. Move."

She seemed even more determined. "Or what?"

My brother finished the sentence for me, rolling up his sleeve. "Or you will be moved."

She glared at him, and he glared back. She moved after a few seconds, allowing us entry.

If she's here, is he here? Because I swear to God, I might be the one who tries to discipline my brother's wrongs, but murder is not beneath me when it comes to this girl.

As if on cue, Sam's head appeared from the couch. "Can you guys keep it down? Jim is already suspicious." His eyes flickered to me, then settled on his friend.

"Suspicious of what?" I asked.

Sam looked uneasy. "Sofia isn't home yet."

"Her name is Sofia," I glared, then looked at Alice. I meant it when I said murder wasn't beneath me. I highly doubt Freckles would be happy to come back and find her friend murdered. "What does he mean? She's not home…yet?"

Alice sighed. "She went to buy groceries two hours ago. She hasn't returned, and her phone is off."

I blinked, furrowing my brows. She could have stopped for coffee?

Alice and Sam exchanged a look.

I hate being left out of the loop, especially if that loop involves my wife.

I tapped my shoe impatiently. Their eyes returned to me. I glared.

"We got a ransom call," Alice supplied the missing information. A chill passed through me as the barely suppressed urge for murder returned.