CHAPTER 19
KEVIN

Thirty-six hours.

It had been thirty-six hours since Sydney had gone missing.

Thirty-six hours since I’d buried my face in her hair. Thirty-six hours since I’d brushed my fingers down her back, since she’d crawled up onto my lap or begged me to watch a movie or got upset with me because I had to work.

How I wished I could hear one of her temper tantrums now.

I sat in the living room, encapsulated in the tattered ruins of my Caribbean home. I hadn’t showered. I hadn’t shaved. I hadn’t even changed my clothes. All I could think about was that note, the ransom money some grimy son of a bitch was demanding in exchange for my daughter. I was beside myself. Arguing with myself. Chastising myself. And most of all, blaming myself. This was karma. Retribution was coming for me. For treating Brooke the way I had all those years ago, and for not working hard enough to keep their mother around. This was payback for prioritizing work over them. Lunch meetings over swimming. Late nights over movie nights.

This was karma.

And it had taken my daughter away from me.

This wasn’t Brooke’s fault. She took her eyes off the house while to assure Daniel’s safety in the ocean after he’d gotten out too far. Daniel was rebelling for attention because I had substituted Brooke’s presence for mine so I could work, and in the process, my daughter had been taken.

Because I wasn't paying attention.

Because I wasn’t being a good father.

I watched Brooke walk around the house, dragging her feet as she swept. She was mindlessly tending to the remaining mess the children had made with the nanny the other night; the night I’d tried to show Brooke I had chosen her. But in the process of trying to fix things with her, I’d made things worse with my children.

This was my punishment.

Brooke had no blame in this. She was protecting my son, saving him from the current that was pulling him away from shore. That son of a bitch had been in my own damn house.

I pulled at the tendrils of my hair until they tore from my scalp. I didn’t know what else to do. The police were dragging their feet, and no one had any answers for me. All that stood in the way of getting my daughter back was one hundred million dollars.

One hundred million dollars everyone was advising me not to pay.

My daughter was worth twice that. Three times that. Hell, she was worth the whole fucking company: billions and billions of dollars, and still billions more. I’d liquidate the entire fucking thing if it meant getting her back.

I kept replaying my conversation with Brooke over and over in my head when she thought she was being followed that day at the museum, staring out at that man standing in the ocean. I thought she was being overprotective. Paranoid even. A bit of an overkill on the babysitting job. No one could touch me. Or so I thought. I was Kevin Fucking Spencer, the multi-billionaire security technology mogul who had changed the fucking industry for good. No one could touch me.

Or so I had thought.

The guilt was maddening. Had I listened to Brooke instead of brushing off her concerns, maybe things wouldn’t have turned out this way.

I couldn’t sit in my house a second longer. I had to get out and do something. Pushing myself up from the couch, I swung the door open, stepped outside, then closed it behind me. The police were scouring the entire island, driving around with their lights flashing while people combed the beaches. I took a cab to the center of the town and began calling out Sydney’s name. Looking around for anything I could use to take back to the police.

I walked around the island for hours, side by side with the police and others trying to help me. I contacted my own security team; I had them looking into Gianni, digging into that bastard’s past to figure out if he had anything to do with this.

In the back of my mind, I could still see the darkness filling his eyes that day. How his demeanor changed from begging to threatening. All because I wouldn’t look at the bastard’s fucking numbers again.

My phone rang, and I stopped in my tracks. Yanking it out of my pocket, I looked down at the name and saw that Owen was calling. I stepped away and stood there with the hot Caribbean sun beating down on my back. Sweat was streaming down my body as I put the phone to my ear.

“Please tell me you’ve got something. Because there’s fucking nothing on this goddamn island.”

“It isn’t very much, but enough for our security team to do their thing,” he said.

“What is it?”

“I found a tie between Gianni and the mob.”

“So those fucking rumors are true?” I asked.

“They are. I’ve got a surveillance photo of him shaking hands with some mob enforcer named Johnny Eightball.”

“Are you fucking serious?” I asked.

“Yeah. I have no idea if it’s related to Sydney’s disappearance, but given the lunch conversation you had and what I gave to Legal, coupled with the fact that this sighting took place late last night, let’s just say our team is checking it out.”

“I’m going to kill that son of a bitch.”

“Take a deep breath, Kevin.”

“Deep breath? Some fucker took the little white bow right out of my daughter’s hair and sent it to my house, and you want me to fucking breathe?”

“I want you to watch your words,” he said. “That’s all.”

“Oh, that was the G-rated version. The scenarios running through my head would make the mob look like pansies.”

Sydney’s face flooded my mind. Her little legs skipping along the beach. Her hair billowing behind her and her eyes twinkling with excitement.

“When I think about them with my pretty little princess—”

“We’re going to find her, Kevin. I swear to you,” Owen said.

“She’s gone,” I said, breathlessly.

The world was spinning under my feet as I hit my knees again. My chest was constricting, and my arms were growing numb. My cell phone fell to the ground as people rushed to my side. Hands were all over me and someone was wiping at my brow. Someone put a bottle of water to my lips, and I was aware of someone rubbing my back.

“Sydney!” I roared. “Where are you?”

Then I collapsed to the pavement. The world rushed by me as people picked me up and carried me. The cool breeze of an air-conditioned hut hit my face as someone began to blot at a spot on my head. It stung, but I didn’t move. I drank water from a straw pressed to my lips. Sweat was dripping off my body and I was shaking uncontrollably, and I could feel a pinch in the top of my hand.

Tape securing a tube down.

Lights flashing in my eyes.

I saw my children giggling, coming down the waterslide, and swimming around in the ocean. I saw Brooke standing there in her bikini, cheering them on with her hair piled high on her head. I saw Morgan standing beside her, elbowing her and grinning.

I caught my children in my arms as they came down the slide.

Someone was leaning me back onto a hard surface as a ceiling came into view. I was hoisted in the air and being moved without my consent. But I didn't care any longer. I didn’t have the energy to fight back. My mind was swirling with memories of my family. Memories of smiles and laughter, of Christmases and Thanksgiving dinners. Of sleepless nights, and fights, so many fights.

So much screaming.

But always the three of us.

Hell, always the four of us.

But three dropped to two and four dropped to three, and I was ripped back into reality. I was slid into the back of an ambulance as the sirens began to wail. I tried to protest, but my tongue wouldn’t work. I tried to swallow, but my throat wouldn’t move. I was entombed in the catacombs of my own body, pulled between memories of the past and the current reality I was facing.

Battling.

Fighting.

Lights whizzed above my head and machines beeped harshly in my ears. Doctors were buzzing around me as I felt a small hand slip into mine. I curled my fingers over the warmth before a small head fell to my chest.

I cupped the head of my son, so lost and confused.

“Come home, Daddy. Please.”

I felt tears crest my eyes as my jaw began to quiver.

“Come home and watch a movie,” he said, breathlessly.

How many times had I heard that plea? A movie. That was all they wanted. To curl up on the couch, snuggle under a blanket, and cuddle into me while watching a movie. And how many times had I refused? Postponed our dates for work calls, then lost myself in balance sheets until two in the morning? How many times had my twins fallen asleep on the couch waiting for me to get home and fulfill a promise I made them?

No more.

Not another promise would go broken and not another plea would go unanswered.

I lifted myself from the hospital bed and felt a pair of hands against my back. I looked over and found her eyes. Those eyes that held so much guilt, pain and sorrow.

The eyes of the first person I’d neglected on my journey to the top.

“You’re still here,” I said.

“Of course I am,” Brooke said. “Where else am I going to be?”

I didn’t really know.

I honestly figured she would go home.

The doctor came in and took one last look at me. He checked bandages on my head before he released us to go home. I cradled my son in my arms as Brooke steadied me, and the three of us slowly got into the back of a cab. Pulling up to my house seemed ominous. Empty. The shadows loomed heavier and a sinister mood hung over the property.

But my son wanted to watch a movie.

And that was what I was going to give him.

We all settled down on the couch and turned on the television. The Jungle Book was fifteen minutes in and I went to change the channel. But Daniel stopped me and pulled the blanket over our bodies.

He wanted to watch Sydney’s favorite Disney movie.

So, I sat there, with Brooke in the crook of my arm and my son’s head on my thigh as silent tears dripped down my neck.

I would watch my daughter's favorite Disney movie without her there.

Not knowing if she would ever be back to watch it with us again.