baby [h.s.]

forty three

I paced until my body gave out, until I physically could not stand to make another phone call. When I woke up, the safehouse was quiet. I had fallen asleep on a couch. I sat up, placed my feet on the floor, and held my face in my hands. I was still wearing my dress, but my heels were kicked off to the side of the room.

Finally, I stood and plucked my phone off the side table. I dialed Riddle's number as I walked into the dark kitchen. It rang a few times before he picked up.

"Mick." He barked.

"Tell me we fucking know something." I said.

"You would know more than I do." He gritted.

"I just woke up." I sighed. "I don't even know where Vinny is."

"Haven't fucking slept a lick." He said. "Look, find Vinny, speak with him."

"Right. Get some rest. You're useless without it."

The line went dead. I tugged open the refrigerator and took a bottle of water. I twisted the top off and wandered out of the kitchen.

I made my way to the study. "Vinny."

He was hunched over a computer, a phone discarded to the side of the desk. He had been smoking cigarettes. The scent hung in the air, bitter and persistent.

"They got him on a plane." He said, in Italian. "That's all we know. Took off from a private hanger before we could stop it. Don't know where it went."

I sharply exhaled. "How long since there's been word?"

"Twelve hours." He said.

I looked down as my eyes fogged with tears. "How long will we stay here?"

"I don't see a need to." He said. "Don't go back to your apartment, but there's no need to stay here. There's a car out front, have it take you to the office. Work with Mick."

I nodded. "Thank you for your help, Vinny. I owe you."

Vinny stood from his desk, walked over to me and placed his hands on my shoulder. He kissed the top of my head. "My sweet, I am sorry this has to happen."

"It's the business." I croaked. My hands began to shake.

"The business indeed."

I did as Vinny told. A black SUV took me to the London office. I didn't recognize where I was, and it took us nearly half an hour to get there. The driver escorted me inside, kept his hand on his waistband. Perkins was the first to get to me as soon as I stepped foot in the office. His bicep was wrapped in white gauze and dark red blood had begun to seep through.

"Hit?" I murmured.

"No shit." He said.

"You right?"

"Be fine." He followed me as I walked further into the office. "What do you know?"

I barked a laugh. "Practically fucking nothing. He was off on a plane is the last word. No one knows where, no one fucking knows why."

I stopped, turned to face Perkins. My back was to the room of desks, full of tired bodies, working in their gala clothes. Perkins shrugged his hands.

"I'm sorry, Caine." Perkins said. "Wasn't much we could do."

I shifted my weight and sighed. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to snap. I just don't fucking understand, and I'm driving myself mad."