Wherever It Leads(90)

“What?” I choke out.

My mind spins, going through a million different reasons why I would want, or need, that.

“I can have it sent by courier as well, or you can pick it up. That is, if you want it.”

“Yeah, I guess I do,” I stammer, still working out what this means. “Monday? Why can’t I have it now?”

“Again, Ms. Calloway, I’m following orders. I will say that it’s highly unusual and potentially unlawful for us to give out this information. And between us, I would ask that you not turn this over to the authorities. Mr. Abbott could risk losing his company over this and Mandla is more of a family heirloom to my boss than anything.”

“I understand,” I say, touching the elephant around my neck. “I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that. Can you please have it sent to me?” I ask, hearing the doorbell ring. Presley jumps up to get it and I watch her leave the room. “Mr. Canon, I have a question.”

“Sure.”

“I called Fenton tonight and he didn’t answer. Do you know where he is?”

“He’s unavailable, Ms. Calloway. That’s all I can say.”

Presley comes into the room, a large envelope in her hand. She places it next to me on the sofa and takes her seat across from me.

“I got your envelope,” I say, looking at Fenton’s handwriting across the package. It makes me smile. “Did you know my brother, Mr. Canon?”

A long sigh trickles through the phone. “I did not. However, I know Mr. Abbott thinks a great deal of Brady. When the reports came in that he was missing, my boss was beside himself. They met, from what I understand, very randomly one afternoon when Brady was in the office signing paperwork. They struck a conversation up about the Dodgers and had lunch, I believe.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m talking entirely off the record when I say that your brother must have been an amazing person for Mr. Abbott to have done some of the things he has in order to try to secure his return. Please know that. It’s the truth.”

My heart swells at the possibility, at the thought that maybe, just maybe, Fenton didn’t leave him there. I hold on to the thought for a long minute before Mr. Canon speaks again.

“I’ll send the other package to you next week, Ms. Calloway. Have a good night.”

“You too.”

I toss the phone beside me and look at Presley, stunned.

“Who was that?” she asks, her brows pulled together.

“Someone that works for Fenton. He sent this,” I say, scooping up the envelope, “and told me Fenton tried . . . is trying to get Brady back.”

A small smile slips across Presley’s cheeks. We exchange a look, one of hope, before she full-out grins. “I knew he wasn’t a complete *.”

I laugh, a drop of hesitation in my tone. “I hope not, Pres.” I rip open the top of the envelope and pull out a single sheet of paper. It’s on Nzou Ltd letterhead and handwritten.



Brynne,

I called to say these things to you a hundred times and a hundred times I hung up the phone before it could ring. I suppose that makes me weak, but I can’t hear the break in your voice when you answer and hear it’s me—if you do answer at all.

I know you’re angry at me and rightfully so. But know I didn’t hurt you on purpose and I was going to tell you everything. You have to know I didn’t realize who you were until Vegas. I swear on everything I am, rudo. Every time I got ready to spill it, I would put it off for another day, just so I had one more day with you in case it didn’t go as planned. Because the thought of hurting you and maybe never seeing you again wasn’t one I could deal with. Remember when we talked about losing someone being the more painful part of life? Losing you is the worst feeling I can ever imagine.

The world works in mysterious ways. I had never been into Angel’s until the day I found your phone. I only stopped because I checked out a new gym in that area and my housekeeper was on vacation. I never go shopping, and on the rare occasion I do, it’s not anywhere near your house. And there I met you.

It’s all kismet, Brynne. Although I hate I have anything to do with Brady’s disappearance, in a way, I’m glad I do. Because that means someone—me—is involved and gives a shit about what happens to Brady. Even if this ruins your perception of me, I wouldn’t give away the opportunity to do this for you. To bring your brother home. Because I will, regardless of what it takes.

Even if you won’t see me again, know I wouldn’t trade the last few weeks for anything in my life. You’ve waltzed into my life and made everything better. I hate that it couldn’t have been at another place and time so that I could still have you next to me, waiting for me when I got home, ordering bikinis from the concierge. Those were the best days of my life.

Love,

Fent



The paper drops to my lap and I look wide-eyed at Presley. My wits are wound together in a tight little ball, everything I feel, hope, dream, hate, fear are all coiled together. It’s impossible to see where one emotion starts and the other ends.

My bottom lip quivers and I wish he was here right now. I’m not any less angry, maybe even more so, but I need him. I need his arm around my waist, his lips against my forehead, his words of encouragement in my ear.

“What did he say?” Presley asks.