Chapters (37)
- Cover
- PROLOGUE
- CHAPTER 1
- CHAPTER 2
- CHAPTER 3
- CHAPTER 4
- CHAPTER 5
- CHAPTER 6
- CHAPTER 7
- CHAPTER 8
- CHAPTER 9
- CHAPTER 10
- CHAPTER 11
- CHAPTER 12
- CHAPTER 13
- CHAPTER 14
- CHAPTER 15
- CHAPTER 16
- CHAPTER 17
- CHAPTER 18
- CHAPTER 19
- CHAPTER 20
- CHAPTER 21
- CHAPTER 22
- CHAPTER 23
- CHAPTER 24
- CHAPTER 25
- CHAPTER 26
- CHAPTER 27
- CHAPTER 28
- CHAPTER 29
- CHAPTER 30
- CHAPTER 31
- CHAPTER 32
- CHAPTER 33
- CHAPTER 34
- About the Publisher
“Call your dad. Nevada is in the same time zone, and he has a private jet. He can probably get there in a couple of hours. Plus, he knows the Valley as well as I do. That’s where he and your mom met. And if she’s running from bad people, he can protect her better than anyone. Call your dad.”
“He’s not going to help. He’s been waiting years for her to crash and burn. I think that’s what’s kept him alive all this time. Revenge.”
“At least try.” No answer. Decker shrugged. “Do you have any better ideas?” Silence. “Do you want me to call him?”
“No, absolutely not!” Gabe shook his head. “Go back to dinner, Peter. I’m twenty-four. I can handle this.”
“No shame in asking for help.”
“I don’t need help.” Even though he did. “Please go back before everyone realizes there’s a problem.”
“Are you sure?”
“I am.”
Gabe watched his foster dad go back into the restaurant. Then, with shaking hands, he tried to punch in the numbers he knew by heart, but he kept making mistakes. Finally, he looked it up in his contact list under Dad. His heart was banging out of his chest.
A lot of times, Chris turned his phone off. Even when it was on, he didn’t bother to answer most of the time. Christopher Donatti was a very busy man. He didn’t like phone calls. He especially didn’t like phone calls from his son, who was always managing to interrupt some important business his father was doing.
His oft-repeated line: You’re losing me money. This better be good.
The phone rang, which meant the current number was still active. A moment later, he heard the line kick in.
“What!”
Thank you, God. “Dad, you’ve got to help me. Mom called. She’s in California. The Valley, I think, but I don’t know. She’s badly hurt but she won’t call 911 or go to a hospital—”
“Hold on. Let me go somewhere private.” A moment later Donatti was back on the line. “Your mother is on the West Coast?”
“Yes.”
“Where are her kids?”
“She had them, but now they’re gone. She’s in the middle of a messy divorce. She might have taken them out of India without permission.”
“Ah.” A pause. “Someone took them back.”