Drake stared, unseeing, outside the window of the loft. The sun had set hours ago and night had taken over the same way darkness returned to his heart.

If only he hadn’t stayed longer with Barry trying to understand what the solicitor was explaining about the intricacies of money laundering for terrorist activities. If only he hadn’t stayed and relaxed for one fucking minute, confident in knowing that he’d be seeing Bethany that evening. If only he’d answered Oliver’s call when it came in but he didn’t because he had thought Caius wanted to beg him for mercy when he had nothing left to give.

Then he wouldn’t have his heart torn out to find Bethany gone.

Again.

He should have listened to his gut when he called Bethany and she didn’t talk as though she had been in a tussle. He should have already realised something was wrong when he texted her but she didn’t text back. He didn’t expect her to reply immediately so he continued to listen to Barry explain the intricacies of money laundering. Thinking about Bethany and knocking Andrew flat on his sorry ass at the same time was like separating them even inside his head. A fucked up combination if there was one. But when he still hadn’t heard from her and his call went to voicemail, alarm bells were like the sonorous sound of calling everyone in to church, making it difficult to hear even his own thoughts.

Then Oliver called.

He threw instructions at Barry on the fly as he ended the meeting. He rushed to Clique arriving just as the police drove away. An emergency service vehicle was parked in front of the pub. Drake inhaled sharply.

Bethany.

He parked behind the vehicle. The hell with the fucking fine. He needed to make sure she was okay despite the doubt gouging his chest.

Drake saw Oliver standing by Lissie while Dominic stood beside Corinne. The bar was empty save for the staff coming in and out of the kitchen.

Lissie was cradling her arm close to her chest.

Drake’s mind raced. “What happened?”

“Bethany left in a panic after lunch.” Oliver replied, his mouth in a grim line. His eyes narrowed when Lissie winced, a muscle ticking on his jaw.

“Doesn’t look like anything’s broken.” The paramedic assured him. She gently touched the spot on Lissie’s upper arm. “That’s going to be a nasty bruise though.”

Oliver swore under his breath. Drake understood. If someone hurt Bethany…

Don’t go there.

Drake sat down as soon as the paramedic left. He leaned his elbows on his knees.

“Lissie, where’s Bethany?” His calm kept a tight rein on the rising panic inside him.

“Bethany went to the restroom after lunch, but suddenly left, deathly afraid.” Lissie’s troubled gaze moved between Oliver and Drake. “She couldn’t get away fast enough.”

“She didn’t even wait for her dad’s food.” Corinne added. “She had to return to the shop so we prepared food for her to bring. But she said she had to leave. She bumped into a group of people and I had to feed them on the house because they were raising such a stink.”

She snorted. “Bunch of bloody attention seekers.”

“I’m sorry.” Drake exhaled, unable to believe Bethany could do that.

“You don’t have to apologise.” Corrine held up a hand. “I just don’t understand what got her so terrified. Then a man came out of the restrooms holding his junk.”

Dominic snorted. “Well, there is that.”

Corrine scowled.

“Sorry.”

Corinne continued. “That guy looked like bats were piling guano on his head and face because he kept blinking. Then he left.”

“That’s when he pushed me against the door.” Lissie joined, wincing. “I was going inside here at the same time he was leaving.”

“Do we know who this motherfucker is?” Oliver didn’t bother to suppress his anger.

“The manager’s pulled out the CCTV. The police have taken the man into custody after he became abusive. I’ve never seen him in here before. The manager said this stranger had come in to eat but kept to himself.”

They all went to the office to view the footage of the corridor and the bar. Drake watched the events unfold until he saw the face of Bethany’s attacker.

“That bastard.” He seethed, spinning away as cold rage filled him. He needed to get to Bethany fast.

“Drake, a minute.” Oliver stopped him.

“Not now, Cray,” he snapped. “I have to find Bethany.”

“I think it’s important. It’s something you need to know.” Oliver’s face was hard but sympathetic. He looked down at the floor.

That floored Drake. He’d never seen Oliver look defeated. If the situation hadn’t been so serious, he would have ribbed Oliver to no end.

“Drake, please.” Lissie spoke up.

His eyes darted to her. He huffed in exasperation. “What is it?”

“Dominic and I will get back to the Retreat.” Corinne stood. “Lissie, get some rest. We’ll be okay.”

Drake’s lips thinned. He was running out of patience. “Lissie…”

Lissie looked at him, pleading for understanding.

“Bethany told me something…”

The moment he heard the word rape, the room spiralled around him.

No, it’s not possible…God tell me I’m not hearing this.

But the more Drake listened and watched the footage he couldn’t stop truth’s train wreck. Pain the level of which he’d never experienced before slashed through him and also shredded his heart. Had he not been seated, his knees would have buckled underneath him. Guilt the size of the entire fucking country rammed into him like some violent upper cut against his jaw and a kick against his roiling stomach. He didn’t know if he could contain the excruciating pressure building inside his chest but he had to. He needed to keep sanity beside him and throw unreasonable violence in the lock-up until he found Bethany. Then and only when he knew she was safe would he let the monster out. It could land him in jail, he didn’t fucking care. He’d give up his freedom to make sure Bethany never had to run away again.

Even if that meant her leaving him.

“Thank you for telling me,” was all he said before he left. Oliver didn’t stop him. Drake wouldn’t have listened and might have flicked the bird. Now that wasn’t nice after what Lissie had told him.

Drake called Bethany again. Voicemail should have a cheery disposition after getting so many calls from him. He ran to Expectation Blooms but she and her father were gone. The staff didn’t know where they went except that father and daughter left through the back door. Drake called again. No answer.

“Bee, call me.” Desperation set up camp in the centre of his chest.

He drove to her house. The blinds were closed but her car was there. He called at her parents’ house, pressed the door bell and rapped on the door until his knuckles became raw. There still was no answer until Joe and Cora’s next door neighbour told Drake they had left hours before. Drake’s anxiety settled heavily as despair became his constant companion. He went to the club but already knew what he’d find. Not even Cinzia knew where she was. The feisty Italian was about to lash at him.

“Don’t even start,” he warned when Cinzia drew a huge breath, her eyes flashing. “I didn’t do this.”

“Then who did?” Cinzia’s arms gesticulated wildly.

Drake didn’t bother answering, unsure whether Cinzia knew about Bethany’s past. He just left, ordering her over his shoulder to call him if Bethany contacted her.

Cinzia cussed in Italian until Drake left the club, her screech still echoing in his ears.

Oliver had taken over the search for Bethany. It had been eight hours since the search began. Drake let him. He didn’t think he’d remain calm after the hair pulling fear drowning him that afternoon. Inside he was an active volcano, Vesuvius personified.

He texted again.

Bee, call me. Please.

Nothing.

He had never been as unsettled in his life as he was now. He was furious at not being able to do anything. Being kicked out of the house or entering the cage for the first time was nothing compared to what he felt now. He opened the television to Bloomberg but he couldn’t concentrate. The shares in his portfolio could have fallen down a steep incline. Like he fucking cared. His mind kept taunting him with the worst case scenarios of what Andrew had said to Bethany to make her relive the nightmare. His hands fisted at the memory of stark fear that had stiffened her body. The bastard had definitely threatened her again.

He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palms before he leaned against the window. Neither the cool glass against his cheek nor the newscaster’s drone from the television did anything to quell his unease that kept a constant attack on his already tense body.

Then he roared, his hand swiping the Lalique decanters and crystals in the wet bar. He paced slowly, his hands planted on his hips, his head thrown back, his eyes blindly staring at the ceiling. He spun around and grabbed his phone from the table.

Bethany, please. If you don’t want to talk, I understand. Just let me know that you, Amara and your parents are okay.

Drake rubbed the ache that had formed in his chest since Bethany had disappeared. He had been looking forward to helping Amara with school for fuck’s sake right after Amara found out he was good with numbers.

His phone buzzed.

We’re okay.

A sigh broke through his nose. Relief was as sharp as a pin piercing a balloon letting the rubber whirl around the room until it fell, spent. He wasn’t going crack as he landed hard on the couch. He wasn’t going to fucking cry like a baby as his elbows rested on his knees and his fingers grabbed his hair. He needed to be strong for Bethany, as he rocked on his butt for God knows how long. He needed to be okay for her. For Amara.

For himself.

Crying was a sign of weakness. The streets taught him that. When he needed a good cry he’d hide from the street bullies, crack heads, pimps and pushers or they’d gang up on him and probably kill him. He’d ran and ran and by the time he could no longer pull air into his lungs, the urge to cry was gone.

His phone rang. He didn’t answer. He was just too bloody tired to talk to anyone. He hurt. He fucking hurt all over like he had open sores or something that tweaked pain at intervals over his heart. The desire to open the waterworks was so strong that he inhaled a long harsh breath and looked around the loft. He blinked several times, pushing his thoughts of self-pity to the back of his mind. Who said only women hurt and cried was a total wanker.

You did.

Oh yeah. He’d been a wanker.

Fuck it, he was going to die with the pain!

“Rosen. Open up man!”

“Leave me alone, Cray!”

“Okay fine. Self-pity your sorry ass. Just so you know, Andrew Tabler is in custody. My custody.” Oliver stressed. “I’m going to give him a piece of my mind for hurting Lissie. You’re more than welcome to refuse—

Drake flung the door open. Oliver did a double take.

“Did you suddenly develop a cold?”

“Screw you.”

Oliver grunted. He pointed at Drake. “You and I. We’re going somewhere.”

Drake looked at his watch. His eyes burned and his face felt tight. “It’s one in the morning. Won’t Lissie mind?”

“No, she won’t. She knows I’m doing this because Bethany’s in danger. She’ll be safe here.” Oliver said, his face grim.

“I’ve no doubt,” Drake said. Oliver had probably made Bridgewater Lofts the safest building in the city. “Be right there.”

“Oh and Rosen,” Oliver added, “don’t worry about Bethany. We found them.”

“Where?” His heart did a somersault before diving. He blew out a breath, waiting for gratitude to replace the emotions going haywire this side of sanity. Otherwise, he didn’t have anything left.

“Just be assured they’re safe,” Oliver said. “Aiden is watching them with some of the men he hired to join C-Five.”

“C-Five?”

“The security company we put up. It’s actually a military transport but it’s our moniker for our military backgrounds.”

“I thought it was named after your junk.”

Oliver made a strangled noise and pointed at him. “Your crude humour will get you into trouble one of these days.”

“Right, like you don’t have one.”

“I do, I just don’t use it often.”

“Sure because you’re already pussy whipped.”

Oliver snorted. “You should try it sometime. You just might like it.”

Drake shrugged. It was better than wallowing. He could have retorted but he had to defer to the man who had been able to find Caius, bring his sorry carcass back to the country, and unearth Andrew’s illegal activities.

“Thank you,” he said. “I don’t know how I’m going to repay you but yeah, I owe you big time.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” Oliver said. “Just make sure you don’t sell your flat. I’ll kick your ass to the next planet if you do.”

Felicity emerged from their flat and gave him a wan smile. “Are you okay?”

Drake nodded curtly, not trusting himself to speak.

“Both of you take care.” She walked to Oliver and rose on her toes to kiss him. “I’ll wait till you come home.”

Drake looked away, unable to prevent envy from stirring inside him at seeing his friends’ happiness. If only Bethany realized he had always been hers from the very start.

They took Oliver’s Subaru. Drake didn’t think he was unruffled enough to keep to the road.

“Where are we going?”

“Back to the hangar.”