CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
had just returned to my penthouse to shower and change after a long morning when the phone rang. I looked at the number and didn't recognize it, so I let it go to voicemail as I brewed myself a cup of strong espresso and shed my clothing.
I replayed the previous twenty-four hours and smiled as I remembered the way Brooke had looked laying on her desk. I wanted to see her lying on my bed, eyes wide and her hair spilling out over the pillows as we enjoyed one another again and again. I wanted her to wake up next to me and smile as I wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close under the covers. I wanted to see her perched on a stool downstairs as I whipped up eggs and poured coffee.
It surprised me to think about all of the little things that I wanted with Brooke. I'd never been one for mornings after or pleasing a woman beyond what it took to sexually wow her. I'd never wanted to let the women in my life past a certain point, and as a result, I'd chosen women who'd never inspired me to want to do more for them. Women like Diamond liked my wild, alpha ways, but they knew better than to try and tame me. I wasn't a man who wanted or needed taming.
Until I met Brooke. There was something about her that made me want to be a better version of myself when I was with her. I wanted to impress her and please her, but more than that, I wanted her to want me. I wanted her to choose me. I stood in the shower and let the water stream down over my tired body before I lathered up and sadly washed away the lingering scent of Brooke and her desire. I wanted more of that. I wanted her.
I quickly chose a pair of jeans and a black button down shirt for the day's uniform. I was tempted to go full out and dress in a suit, but I knew better than to call attention to myself that way. And besides, I wasn't really a suit kind of guy. My jeans and my comfortable shirts were my armor. And, I had a feeling that today I was going to need some heavy-duty armor.
I padded down to the kitchen and brewed myself another espresso before I turned on the news and caught up with what was going on in the world. I had just picked up my phone to check my messages when I heard the reporter say, "And in local news, Beck Malone, brother of accused murderer, Dax Malone, walked away from a rehab facility in LA this afternoon. Sources say that Beck was at the facility to deal with a heroin addiction while his brother fights to prove his innocence in the murder of local attorney Lydia Banks.
Banks had been Malone's attorney for years before he was arrested and charged with premeditated execution and dumping her body in the water near Marina del Rey. Malone's current attorney, Brooke Raines, has said that she has no comment, aside from the fact that her client is innocent.
Police said that Beck Malone was wearing a white t-shirt, jeans, and no shoes when he walked off the hospital grounds earlier this afternoon, and his doctors are asking the public to be on the lookout for him as he might be in need of medication or medical care. Please call 800-555-2251 if you see him. This is Annika Randall reporting for Action News live on the scene. Back to you in the studio, Hal."
"FUCK!" I yelled into the empty room. "Beck, what are you doing?"
I'd had a bad feeling about leaving Beck in a rehab facility that had no security or locked wards, but he'd refused to be checked in to a place like that, so I'd compromised and found New Horizons. They'd promised me that they would keep a close eye on him and that he'd never be out of the sight of a staff member. Now, everything was really going to hell in a hand basket. If Beck walked away and got mixed up in drugs again, I probably wouldn't be able to find him, forget about saving him from his own addiction.
I leaned against the counter and ran a hand through my hair. How in the hell was I going to deal with yet another stress? The murder charges, the club, and the drug shipments that seemed to be suspect in the ODs were all demanding my attention. Now, Beck was going to split this in a four-way. I slammed my fist on the counter and cursed him, "Damn you, Beck Malone!"
I had to find him before anyone else did. His life most likely depended on it.