she wanted to be or not.
He could find her. Easily. Søren had asked him to find her, and he couldn’t tell Søren no. He wasn’t strong enough to tell him no, and he would fail her again as he’d failed himself. Over and over in his head he cursed himself. He’d gotten her pregnant and then abandoned her to deal with it on her own. Then she’d faced Søren on her own. And Kingsley had the shard of carved bone in his back pocket to prove that conversation had not gone well. He’d never met a stronger woman in his life, a woman as free and as fearless as she. If she said Søren had crossed a line with her, Kingsley believed her.
Kingsley owed her. She’d fled somewhere—he didn’t know where but he assumed she’d picked a place she felt safe. What right did he have taking her away from there if that’s where she wanted to be? But he would do it, and he would do it for Søren, and he would do it because she’d become such a part of his life he couldn’t imagine waking another morning to find her gone.
If Kingsley went back to the town house right now he’d call all his contacts and find her. Søren would be sitting there, waiting, depending on Kingsley to find her.
But.
But if he didn’t go back to his town house...
Kingsley pulled his mobile phone out of his jacket and dialed a number.
“Don’t speak,” Kingsley said before his assistant could say a word.
Silence was his answer. Good.
“Answer the next question I ask you only with a yes or a no. You understand?” Kingsley asked.
“Yes,” Calliope said. Her voice was calm, controlled. She betrayed nothing. He’d trained her well.
“Is he there?”
“No.”
“No?” Kingsley repeated. “Good. Now you can talk. Did he tell you where he went?”
“No,” Calliope said. “He told me to tell you he had an idea where she might be. Then he got on his motorcycle and drove away.”
Kingsley’s brow furrowed as he leaned back against the lockers.
“He’s not going to get her back,” Kingsley said.
“Are you going to find her then?”
Kingsley didn’t answer. He had a decision to make. Calliope made it for him.
“She wouldn’t leave him without a good reason, right?” she asked. “She wouldn’t leave him unless she had to. I know her. I know how much she loves him.”
“So do I,” Kingsley said.
“Did he hurt her? Like in the bad way?” Calliope asked, her voice awash in fear and confusion. Kingsley could sympathize.
Kingsley didn’t answer.
“King?”
He had a decision to make. He made it now.
“I need you to do something for me.”
“Anything,” she said.
“I need you to move into the town house. Someone needs to take care of the dogs. Can you do that for me?”
“I practically live here anyway. Dad’s not going to be thrilled, but I’m eighteen. Not much he can do about it. Sure. Anything you need.”
“You can have any room that isn’t mine or isn’t hers. There’s ten grand in cash in my bottom desk drawer. The combination is—”
“I know the combination.”
“How?”
“You hired me because I’m the sort of girl who knows combinations, remember?”
“Good point.” He almost laughed. He did know how to pick an assistant.
“Shut the house down. Close it. Cancel all the parties. Cancel everything, even the newspaper.”
“Are you going somewhere?” she asked.
“Yes. I have to leave the country. Don’t tell him I’m going. I’m not going to tell you where I’m going so you don’t have to lie when he asks you. The truth is, I don’t know where I’m going, and I don’t know when I’m coming back. But you can handle things while I’m gone. Yes?”
“I can, yes,” she said again. This time he heard a tight note of fear in her voice. But she was smart, savvy. She was also barely eighteen years old, but he wouldn’t have hired her if he didn’t trust her judgment.
“I’m going now. I’ll call when I can. It won’t be for a week or two. But everything’s fine. You believe that?”
Calliope answered, “No.”
He cared about her too much to make her believe the lie.
“Me neither,” he said. “Be a good girl. I’ll call when I can. Take care of the kids for me.”
“I’ll walk them every day,” she said. “And pet them all the time.”
“Merci.”
“Come home soon.”
Kingsley hung up and tucked his phone away again.
Once more he fished his keys out of his pocket. He turned back to the lockers. Underneath the one set up for Elle was another locker. He opened it, pulled out a leather duffel and checked it for a passport and money.
For you, Elle, he said to himself as he walked through the bus station and out onto Forty-Second Street. I’m doing this for you. Or was he?
He hailed a cab and ordered the driver to take him to the airport.
Well, it was about time he fulfilled a long-held dream of his. After all, his dream of being a father was dead. But he had other dreams, dreams about seeing parts of the world he hadn’t seen yet. If he didn’t go now, would he ever?
“Which airline?” the Caribbean-accented cab driver asked him.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” the driver repeated.
Kingsley leaned forward. “If you had all the money in the world and could use it to go anywhere you wanted, where would you go?”
“All the money, sir?” the driver asked. “I’d go everywhere.”
“Everywhere?”
“Everywhere,” the driver repeated. “And then I’d go home.”
“Where’s home?” Kingsley asked him. The accent was like music in his ears—French but not French, warm as white sand under the sun.
“Haiti,
