I can’t believe I didn’t see it.

Karina tried to find out where I was staying. Why? So Alexander could…come get me?

Thank goodness he didn’t recognize me from the gala. If he’d known who I was, he could have connected me to Gabe. I would have been putting my men in danger simply by hiding out at Gabe’s house. My God. My pulse is going so fast, it’s making me dizzy. I’m in danger of tripping over my own feet. I need to get out of here now—

My back runs into something soft. Soft on top of hard.

I turn around and find a suited man smirking down at me.

It’s Jameson Crouch.

“Excuse me,” I whisper, trying to go around him.

He grabs my arm. Holds on tight when I try to pull it free. “Not so fast, girly.”

My temples pound. Mouth goes dry. “Let me go. Please, let me go.”

“Hey, Alexander,” Crouch shouts. “I found what we’re looking for.”

Karina and the deputy mayor step into view on the other side of the server. Alexander looks nonplussed, but it slowly gives way to amusement. Karina is stunned, but she can only look me in the eye for a moment, before horror takes over and she looks away.

The suited man starts to drag me toward the back of the basement. Where are they taking me? Is there a rear exit?

“Karina, please,” I say in a strangled scream, my vocal cords pinched shut from fear.

“I couldn’t let the Post continue to scoop us. My job was at stake.” Eyes closed, she shakes her head. “I told you to stick to delivering sandwiches, Elise.”

* * *

Banks

To put it mildly, I’m losing my shit.

Elise is not answering her phone. We know she is enroute to the Times. We are most likely going to find her there safe and probably a little closed off—and frankly, I can’t blame her. The four of us are mere days into this relationship and her faith is already being shaken. Believe me, I would love nothing more than to blame Tobias. It is very difficult to be angry with him, however, when he is continuously banging his head off the passenger side window.

“I’ve never understood those macho Americans who ask people to punch them in the stomach as hard as they can, but I completely get it now. They are emotional shite piles like me and they just want to relocate the suffering.”

“You need to take a deep breath,” I mutter, weaving in and out of traffic as fast as possible without running the risk of being pulled over. Every car we pass with an Uber decal in the window, I glance into the backseat in case Elise is the passenger. “I can’t deal with your hysterics right now.”

“Please know that I’m holding back!”

Another purposeful bang of his head against the window.