Chapter 14

THE ONE THING TO BE said for Skye's coping mechanism was that she was earning bucketloads. Keeping herself busy in an attempt not to think about Leandro meant she accepted every shift being thrown at her and dazzling more than any server had ever dazzled in an attempt to earn tips, tips, tips. When she wasn't working, she was with Harper. Playing with her, reading to her, walking with her, watching a cartoon together. Whatever. Keeping her little body close to Skye's and reassuring herself that she'd made the right decision.

Nothing in life was worth jeopardizing this.

She couldn't let someone into her life, without knowing what the future held. She had to put all of her energy right here. With Harper.

She was exhausted.

Too exhausted to cry.

Too sad to cry?

She wasn't sure. She felt bereft. There was a terrible, all-consuming weight pressing down on her chest, trying to convince her constantly that she'd done the wrong thing in breaking up with Leandro. Except she hadn't broken up with him. They hadn't been a couple. They'd been sleeping together. ‘Having fun'. It had been meaningless for him.

Only, it hadn't.

She'd heard it in his voice, when they'd last spoken. She'd heard his shock. It was like she'd side-swiped him completely. She'd heard his shock and had known he felt more than he was saying. But that was the point.

She needed the words. She needed the promise. She needed the assurance that he was different, and that she was safe with him. She needed to hear him say it, to acknowledge all of the things she was scared of, to promise her everything. And he didn't. He wouldn't. Because that wasn't what he wanted. He did want Skye. He did want more of what they'd shared, but that wasn't enough for her.

So she kept working, and she kept looking after Harper, and so what if most days she forgot to eat until her stomach felt as though it was caving in on itself and she forced herself to grab a piece of bread and consume at least that before bed, so her growling stomach wouldn't wake anyone up? So what if she felt like a zombie most of the time, if her over-bright persona at work was so brittle she felt as though she might crack under the slightest pressure?

On one such night when she'd taken care of a particularly demanding group of guests—low level royalty from a European country—she caught the subway home feeling as though her eyes were stinging from exhaustion and that her feet might melt off from overuse. She walked the short distance from the station, her mind numb, out of habit. She forced herself not to think of anything because if she let herself, all thoughts led back to Leandro. To memories of him. His kisses, his touch, his gentle exploration of her, his eyes, his laughter, his kindness, his generosity. All of him.

She missed him like a limb.

At home, she showered quickly and silently, changing into a pair of yoga pants and a loose shirt before having a handful of crackers from the pantry. Before going to bed, she went to check on Harper, her heart swelling at the prospect of seeing her little girl, who was growing impossibly quickly and changing before her eyes. What would Skye tell Harper about her dad? The lawyers had been aggressive with Jay, pushing him to give up custody of Harper in exchange for not pressing charges. The longer the case went on, the more and more convinced she became that he didn't want to be a father anyway. He never had. It had always been about Skye, about using Harper to control Skye, to hurt her, to keep her in line. Not once had he asked for photographs of their daughter, nor had he ever called just to see how Harper's day was. Not once had he shown any interest in the subject of schooling for Harper, even though he'd had the benefit of attending an elite academy in the city.

Skye sighed, pushing the door inwards and tiptoeing across the room.

Only Harper wasn't there.

Skye's heart sped up. She glanced around, as if half-expecting to see her daughter hiding behind the door. But there was no sign of her anywhere in her small bedroom. She walked quickly to her own room, checking the bed there. Sometimes Harper snuggled into the sheets when she missed Skye. Another pang in her heart as she thought of her little girl feeling that. Harper wasn't in Skye's room either.

Okay. Perhaps she'd gone into bed with Skye's parents. That wasn't impossible. If she wasn't well or had experienced a nightmare?

Skye half-ran down the corridor, throwing open the door with no attempt to be quiet. Her eyes adjusted quickly to the dark, scanning the bed. Two shapes. But she moved closer to be sure. Her mother woke instantly, sitting up. "Skye? What is it?"

"Mom? Where's Harps?"

Irena stared at Skye. "What do you mean?"

And in that moment, Skye's heart turned to ice. Gone was the ability to imagine this was normal, that everything was fine.

"She's not in her bed. She's not in my bed. Where is she?"

Irena moved quickly, shaking her husband awake. "Peter. Peter! Where's Harper?"

But Peter was groggy, naturally a heavier sleeper than either Skye or Irena. "What? In her bed."

"No, she's not, Dad. She's nowhere. Oh, God." Skye's heart sank. Harper was not a child who woke up once they were asleep. She was not a child who went walking in the middle of the night. She was predictable, and an excellent sleeper.

Harper pressed a hand to her mouth. "Call the police," she groaned, running through the house, turning on every light as she went, looking under the table, in the kitchen pantry, behind doors, and then out into the dimly lit, small backyard, checking everywhere. And then she saw it.

A tiny, precious shoe near the gate.

She knew then what had happened. The latch on the gate was too high for Harper to reach. Peter had installed a new latch for precisely that reason when Skye had moved in. The only way Harper was getting out of the backyard was with an adult carrying her.

It didn't take a detective to work out who that adult was most likely to have been. "Jay," she groaned, dropping her head. "What have you done?"

"I should never have believedhe would just disappear. I should have known something like this would happen. I should have known."

Despite the lateness of the hour, the gala was still in full swing, and would likely continue into the early hours of the morning. Surrounded by the glitz and glamour of the world's elite, with a jazz band playing elegant songs in the background, dressed in a jet black tuxedo and midway through a conversation with his sister and the head of their Asia-Pacific operations, the last thing he'd expected was to see Skye's face on his phone. He'd answered immediately, swiping his fingers across the screen and stepping away from his conversation with a single lift of one finger, to indicate he'd be back soon.

"Skye? Slow down. I can't hear you." He moved further away from the crowd, towards the edges of the ballroom, listening as Skye's words tumbled over themselves.

"I just got home from work and Harper wasn't here. She's not anywhere. And there's a shoe, a tiny little shoe, near the gate, but she can't open the gate, because Dad made sure she couldn't open the gate, and she's gone, Leandro, she's gone, and I have a horrible feeling he has her and that he won't give her back. That he might…oh God. What if he hurts her? I'm so scared. I'm so scared."

That made two of them.

Ice flooded Leandro's veins. He looked around, scanning the room, at the exact moment Max happened to look in his direction. Something in his brother's face must have communicated the level of his panic because Max also abandoned his conversation, walking quickly towards Leandro.

"What is it?"

Leandro beckoned for Max to follow him, then strode from the ballroom. "Have you called the police."

"Y-yes." Skye sounded as though she was shivering.

"Good. Are they there yet?"

"It just happened. It all just happened. I don't even know why I'm telling you. I just called because I—I thought—I don't know. I'm so scared."

Leandro closed his eyes. "I'm glad you called me. I want you to listen to me, Skye. We are going to find her. We are going to get her home, okay? I will do whatever it takes to get her back in your arms, you have my word."

He disconnected the call and looked at his brother. "I need your help."

"Anything."

They stepped into the lift together, side by side. Two Valentinos, united against the world. Leandro couldn't talk for a full minute, as he gathered his thoughts, but as the doors opened into the parking garage level, he turned to Max. "Skye's daughter Harper's been taken. By Skye's ex, I presume. He's a nasty piece of work." Leandro quickly filled Max in on the essentials without compromising Skye's privacy. "She's called the police but?—,"

"Yeah, I know." Max was already on the phone to the head of their private security. Leandro was glad Max was there because his mind was so fully engaged with Skye that he wasn't sure he would have been able to speak sensibly, whereas Max gave clear, concise instructions. As they stepped into the car, Alec started the engine, sensing something was wrong and that efficiency was a priority.

"Take us to Skye's," Leandro said, eyes closed as he thought of Harper, his heart hurting. The last time he'd seen her she'd been so happy. God, he'd missed her. He'd been so focused on the absence of Skye that he hadn't fully comprehended Harper was a part of that. He ground his teeth, refusing to imagine where she was right now. He had to focus on getting her back, that was all.

Max asked a few questions, like Skye's address, then disconnected the call. "They're meeting us there."

The security agency had premises out of Brooklyn and as a result of that, by the time Leandro and Max arrived, four dark black SUVs were parked in the street, alongside a couple of police radio cars. Leandro strode from the vehicle and pushed through the front door without knocking. The house was packed to capacity but his eyes found Skye's immediately. She sobbed when she saw him, and he felt it deep in his bones. He pushed through the crowd, seeing only her, and dragged her against his body, wrapping her in a hug that promised her everything he'd said on the phone. They'd find Harper. He'd make sure of it.

"You sent an army."

"It's just the beginning."

Tears ran down her cheeks. "I'm so scared."

"I know."

He caught her face. "Have they heard anything?"

"They're finger printing," she whispered. "We've been checked, just to exclude us. Obviously our prints are everywhere. A coat of hers is missing, but that's all. So I don't know what that means but at least she's not cold. But he didn't take her bunny and she can't sleep without bunny. Oh, Leandro, she'll be so afraid."

"Where would he take her? Let's presume it's Jay."

She nodded. "I gave the police his home address."

"What about our guys?"

She glanced around, nodded. "Them too."

"Okay, good."

"Skye," he stroked her cheek, carefully repeating what the criminal psychologist he'd consulted with on the car trip over had said. "If this is Jay, he wants to hurt you. This isn't about Harper, but making you pay for moving on. We both knew he wasn't likely to just disappear."

"I never expected?—,"

"Nor did I. He's clearly sick. A lot sicker than we understood. But listen, we can use this to our advantage."

Her eyes linked to his. "How?" She mouthed, incapable of speech.

"He wants to hurt you. I hate to suggest this, but have you called him?"

"I tried. He didn't answer."

"Okay." He nodded thoughtfully. "Keep trying. I want you to sit over here," he gestured to the security guys. For the first time, Skye seemed to register that they were busy setting up some equipment. She frowned. "They can trace the call, if you can keep him on the phone long enough."

"What if he doesn't answer?"

"He will. Remember, this is about scaring you. About hurting you."

"What if he hurts her to hurt me?"

"Don't think about it. Don't let yourself go there. She's going to be fine."

Skye's eyes were huge, filled with tears, but she nodded. Even now, he could see her strength and courage and it made his chest churn with the strength of his feelings. An older woman came towards her, clutching a mug of tea. Her face was similarly tear stained, her pale hair pulled into a messy bun.

"Come on," Leandro said, gently, bringing her towards the table. Max was standing there, watching like a hawk, giving commands, asking questions, moving towards the police to check their progress. Leandro was glad he was there, even if just for moral support, and so that Leandro would know nothing had been overlooked.

At the table, Skye began to dial, the phone on speaker. It rang and rang and went to voicemail. She hung up.

One of the detectives spoke next. "Okay. Next time I want you to leave a message. Don't say we're all here. Just tell him you got home from work and can't see Harper. Ask if she's with him. Make it seem like a casual thing."

"But it's not," Skye practically screeched.

"I know that, honey," the detective agreed. "But we're trying to get him to call back."

"Okay," Skye squeezed her eyes shut, sucking in a deep breath. Her fingers trembled as she dialled his number again. Her whole body shook.

After six rings, when they were expecting it to go to message bank, Jay answered. "Oh, hey, Skye."

Her eyes looked panicked. She glanced from Leandro to the detective then down at her phone. Leandro ran his hand over her shoulders, gently, encouragingly, needing to reassure her, somehow. Meanwhile, the machine to her right, attached to a laptop, was flashing with green lights.

"Jay, I just got home from work. I can't see Harper. Do you – have you got her?"

"Have I got her? Our daughter?"

Skye's face paled. "Jay, please don't be like this."

"Like what, Skye? What do you care? You've moved on. You've got a new life now. A new guy. You can have another kid."

Skye's lips parted. She could hardly speak.

"I could never have another Harper."

"No, you couldn't. Because she's ours, and in order to have her, you'd need me. But you don't want me anymore, do you, Skye?"

She looked at the detective who was doing a finger winding motion, encouraging her to keep the conversation going. Skye's face dropped. She nodded though and spoke softly. "But I do, Jay. I do want you."

"Liar," he whispered, in a voice that sounded truly deranged.

But Skye was desperate now, and having uttered the lie, she clung to it, as if instinctively understanding that this was the only way she could save her daughter. Of course she would understand—she'd had years with this guy, years of knowing how to defend herself in the face of his cruelty and control.

"No, it's true, but I was scared that after the whole lawyer thing you wouldn't want to see me again. I wasn't sure you'd be able to forgive me for—for cheating on you. For fooling around. I'm so sorry, Jay. You know you're the only man I've ever loved."

Silence. The detective gave Skye two thumbs up. Skye looked as though she was going to vomit. Leandro kept stroking her shoulders.

"I don't believe you." But Jay sounded as though he wanted to believe her. He was softening. Hopeful.

"It's true," she rushed. "You know how much I love you. I want you back. I want us to be a family again. You, me and Harper. I want to have another baby with you. I'll leave here, I'll come to you. I'll move anywhere, do anything. Please, just don't hurt her."

"This is about her? Not me?"

Skye squeezed her eyes shut. Beside her, the computer made a soft pinging noise. Leandro's gaze shifted to it. The technician was frowning, staring at the screen, where a map of New York was gradually shifting.

"It's about all of us," Skye said, realizing her mistake. "It's about our future."

"You didn't seem to want a future with me a month ago."

"I was wrong. I've been so wrong. You know how I can be, how I make mistakes. You know I'm not smart like you."

He knew she was just trying to manipulate Jay but hearing her speak like that gave Leandro some idea of what their relationship had been like, and he wanted to punch a hole into the nearest wall.

"I know that, baby. You need me, don't you? You need me to help you make good choices."

"I need you," she responded by rote, but her voice was cold. Dead.

"Can I speak to Harper? She doesn't have bunny, and I want to let her know I'll take care of bunny until she's home."

"She's not coming home." Jay's voice switched to ruthless and detached again. He sounded like a mad man.

"What do you mean?"

"You're coming to me. Both of you."

"Okay. Tell me where and I'll come to you."

His laugh was deranged. "Do you think I'm stupid, Skye? Not yet. I'm not ready to forgive you yet. You can wait a few days. Maybe a week or two. See how it feels to be treated like dirt. When I decide it's time, I'll text you an address."

"No, Jay?—,"

But he'd hung up the call. Skye's fingers were shaking too much to blink her own phone off so Leandro reached down and did it. She tilted her face to the technician's, her features so drawn it broke Leandro's heart.

"Well?" She whispered. "Did you find him?"

The technician studied the screen for so long that Leandro wanted to shake him. But then, the young guy turned to the room. "Yeah. I think we've got him." A moment later, an address was texted to the phones of every security agent in the room. They passed it onto the local police.

"Come on," Leandro said. "Ride with me." He grabbed Bunny as they walked out the door.