CHAPTER NINTEEN

CHAPTER NINTEEN

NOAH

It’s been a long couple of days, and I’m finally home.

The day I left was a chaotic mess. The people from the managing company for the hotel we were buying in Atlanta picked us up at the airport, and the wheeling and dealing didn’t die down until after midnight. That was the first chance I had to look at my phone. Amber had tried to call me five times and never left a message. Never tried to text me either. Made me feel bad because I missed her and wanted to tell her as much. Because of the time, I decided to contact her the next morning. Didn’t want to wake her.

Spent the next two days calling and texting, but she never picked up and never got back to me. I reasoned that her phone was broken or lost, and I would talk to her when I got home.

And now I am home, and she isn’t here. The place is still and quiet. I creep into the bedroom. The closet is open, and her clothes are gone. I stride to the dresser, open the drawers, and sift through them. Glance at the closet again. Notice a theme. All the clothes she had when she moved in here are gone. Everything I bought her since has been left behind.

I call her again from the landline and get nothing. Ring the front desk.

“Yes, Mr. Dalton.”

“Have you seen Miss Allen today?”

“No, sir. I haven’t seen her since Wednesday night when she left with some luggage.”

“Did you ask where she was going?”

“Yes, sir, but she wouldn’t answer. Went out the front door and got in a cab.”

“All right.” I slam the handset down and stop myself from grabbing it by the base and firing it across the room. I need a drink.

So, I slog over to the dry bar and pour a glass out of a brand-new bottle of Dalmore 25. It’s the best liquor I have on hand, and I need it.

I take a sip and head over to the table and sit. Set my drink down, put my elbows on the tabletop, and cradle my head in my hands. I don’t understand what’s happening. Why would she leave? Why won’t she accept my calls? Why? Why? Why?

I keep asking myself the same thing, over and over, until I eventually pass out on the couch with an empty Dalmore bottle beside me. This one’s going to hurt.

* * *

My brothers shake me awake, but before they do, they make sure the curtains are open and the sun is blazing into the room.

“What’s going on here, Noah?”

I’m unsure which of my brothers asked because I’m afraid to open my eyes. Some people say the three of us sound alike, and by God, I think we do.

“Come on. Get up.” That one was Rob, I’m pretty sure.

A hand touches my legs, and they lift and swing, and my feet hit the floor. “Get up.” That was Blake.

I sit upright and rub my face.

Blake: “What is wrong with you?”

“Amber left me.”

“Huh? What did you do?”

“What did I do? Nothing. Why is it my fault?

Blake sits next to me while Rob gets the coffee brewing.

“Something had to have happened. She didn’t just leave.”

“The only thing that comes to mind is that I didn’t call her the day I left.”

“At all?”

“Not until the next morning.” I rub the back of my head. “You know how I lose track of time when I’m in the middle of something.”

Blake nods. He understands. That’s part of who I am and why I’m good at what I do. Unwavering concentration. Nerves of steel.

“That can’t be the only reason,” Blake comments.

“I don’t know what to tell you.”

Blake picks up the empty Dalmore bottle. “You didn’t drink it all, did you?”

I grind my palms into my eyes. “Unfortunately, yes.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Good job.”

“Thank you.”

He chuckles.

Rob shows up with coffee and hands us each one.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

He gets a coffee for himself and takes a seat in a wide tufted leather wingback chair. I’ve never found the chair very comfortable, but guests seem to like it, and Rob loves it. “Makes me feel like a king when I’m sitting in it.”

“This is going to drive me crazy.” I sip my coffee. Hot and stout.

“Any idea where Amber is?” Blake asks.

“No.”

“Is she at her old place? Work? Any idea?”

“No.”

“Well, let’s start there, then. Find out where she is, and you can ask her.”

“All right.”

I massage my temples. I’m never drinking that much again, and I mean it.

“Why don’t you clean up, and we’ll make some calls?” Blake suggests. “I’ll call Tom’s secretary… and her cousin, is it? That’s who she was staying with?”

“Yeah.” I give him the number since I have it memorized.

“All right. Hit the shower. We’ll have some answers when you get back.”

I nod, drink some more coffee, and head off. Hop in the shower and let the water run over me for twenty minutes. Towel off and brush my teeth for a second time. Not feeling too bad. Put on a fresh set of clothes and head back out to check on my brothers’ progress.

“No luck,” Blake says. “Called her cousin’s place, but nobody answered. Got hold of Tom’s secretary. Amber contacted her immediate supervisor and told her she was quitting. Didn’t give a reason.”

From bad to worse.

“Could have returned to Chicago,” I say.

“Possible. Let’s have Ryder check it out. He has the resources.”

Ryder lives in Chicago. He’s a Dalton. Our fathers are brothers. They’re into big tech.

“We don’t need to bother him,” I say. “I’ll take care of it.”

“How? It sounds like she doesn’t want to be involved with you. You snoop around personally, and she might go into hiding if she hasn’t already.”

Rob: “You don’t have any idea what you did, huh?”

I’ve been telling myself I’ve done nothing wrong, but maybe I’m delusional. She wouldn’t leave for no reason, so I had to have done something.

“I don’t know,” I answer. “I just don’t know.”

“So, let’s find out,” Blake encourages. “I’ll call Ryder, and he can check around.”

“It’s a start anyway,” Rob adds.

I close my eyes and rock back and forth. “All right, let’s do it.”

Blake dials Ryder and stops when my home phone rings. I answer.

“Mr. Dalton. Farrah Conner is here and would like to see you.”

What the f . . .?

I rub my neck. It’s killing me. Probably from sleeping on the couch. “Tell her I’m not here.”

“Yes, sir.”

I hang up and close my eyes.

“What?” Rob asks.

“Farrah Conner.” I slam the table with my fist. “Goddammit!”

“Why so hostile?” Blake asks. “Did Farrah do something?”

I tell them what Farrah did to Amber and about the conversation in my office.

“Whack-a-doodle,” Rob confirms.

“I’ll say,” Blake agrees.

“Anyone else hungry?”

“I am,” I reply.

“Me too,” Blake answers.

“Chinese?” Rob asks.

Blake and I nod.

“All right.”

Rob gets on the phone and orders.

Blake says, “I better get a hold of Ryder,” and then punches in some numbers. “Ryder?”

Pause.

“This is Blake. How are you?” He walks away for privacy.

“Food will be here in twenty minutes,” Rob says.

“Great,” I answer and wander to the kitchen and retrieve a bottle of water from the fridge. “You want one?” I ask Rob.

“I’ll wait.”

We sit down, and five minutes later, Blake gets off the phone. “Ryder’s more than happy to help. He’s already on it.”

“Good,” I reply.

He plops on the couch, and we talk until the food arrives, and then we talk while we eat. Ryder calls back as we’re finishing up. Blake answers. Says a bunch of uh-huhs and then a thanks a lot, and then he hangs up.

“Ryder found her,” Blake says.

“Really?” I lean back. “That fast?”

“Yeah. He got her parents’ number and made a bogus call, something about a high school reunion or something. Anyway, her mother said Amber was there but wasn’t up to coming to the phone, but she would sure let her know they called.”

“Great. I’m going to Chicago.”

“We’re coming with you,” Blake says.

“Yeah, we are,” Rob cheers.

“Go pack, and I’ll call Judy and tell her what’s going on. She can get a hold of Bill (our pilot) and have him get things ready.”

My brothers scatter while I call Judy. It’s a brief conversation because Judy understands.

“Thanks, Judy.”

“Good luck.”

I pack and meet my brothers in the parking garage. We’re taking our own vehicles because we all have calls to make. Our plane—a Gulfstream G650ER like Bezos, who I plan to overtake on the Forbes list—isn’t quite ready when we arrive at the hangar, but the wait isn’t long.

“Storm’s coming, so we better move,” Bill says when we board.

We get seated and buckled up and taxi the runway. The plane speeds up, and we take off. This is it. Going to Chicago to get my girl. That’s my hope, anyway.