Chapter 12: Chapter: 12

NICKLAUS

11:pm that's what the time says on my Patek Philippe. I had been waiting here for two Goddamn hours. I could have tracked the guy I was waiting for and made him talk.

If I had traced his call, but I hadn't, which was a big mistake. And even if I had, I wouldn't want to risk the chance of him running away before I could get the information I needed.

Sitting here in the VIP club section, I could see almost every angle of the club.

Unlike the crowd, who had come here looking for a good time. I was here for something entirely different—a man/woman, not really sure which.

The voice hadn't been clear–they, whoever they were, had called me over to this club for something far more important than anything or anyone.

Meredith!

My youngest sister had been gone for a little over a year now; just saying her name made anguish and rage bubble deep inside me.

I had promised to protect her; I was her hero. I'm her oldest brother, the one she's always trusted to protect her and keep her safe.

But I'd failed her; when she needed me most, I wasn't there to protect her. Meredith was kidnapped and never found.

There was no call demanding ransom, no note sent, no clues as to why she's been kidnapped.

No way to find out who was behind the kidnapping. Nothing!

One morning, she had gone to high school and never came back. Meredith was only a few months shy of eighteen and had a small circle of friends.

The police had questioned all her friends; they swore they hadn't seen her and that Meredith hadn't gone to school on that wretched day.

All her things were in her room; nothing was amiss. So we knew she didn't run from home to elope with her boyfriend, as the police had suggested might be the case.

I had almost knocked down the officer who had said that. The fucker was wise enough to shut up his stupid mouth when I sent him a deadly glare.

Meredith was not the kind of person who would run away from home because of a boy. She's sassy, opinionated, and stubborn, and could hold her own.

If she really wants something, no one could change her mind; she would do what she wants regardless of who opposes her and wouldn't have to leave her entire life and family behind.

Or elope to do it. Being under Theodore Montgomery's thumb and denied much freedom while growing up.

Meredith hates being told no. I was the only one who could tell her something, and she would listen and obey, though I knew I was a scary motherfucker.

It definitely wasn't because she feared me that she listened to me. It's because she trusted and respected me. I was on a trip when Victoria, my stepmother, called me. She'd burst into tears, sobbing over the phone.

I couldn't understand anything she was saying in her hysteria. Alex was the one who took the phone from her and explained to me what had happened: Meredith was missing.

I had a flight in an hour to New York, hoping they were wrong, and that I would come home to find Meredith painting on the terrace of their townhouse, as she sometimes does.

That hope was shattered like a fragile glass hours later when I arrived at their townhouse, and when weeks had passed, Meredith still wasn't found.

The authorities had tried their best to find her and had failed; my brothers had been trying to help in any way we could.

Whenever we thought we were closer to finding her, we had found a reliable trail to follow. It always ended up being a dead end. I had used every connection I had to try and find her, but to no avail.

We've hired private investigators, whom I've been paying until now, and a few days ago I went back to a route I never wanted to return to.

A route more dangerous than anything. I used my past dark connections to ask for help. I just needed a clue, no matter how little or hopeless it was. I would do anything to get her back. I'm still waiting to hear back from my source.

Then this evening, when I was about to leave the office, a strange number had called me.

At first, I thought the call I had been waiting for came through today, but it's an anonymous number. I was promised information about the last person who had seen Meredith, in exchange for a price.

I would pay any amount to get information about Meredith. But what surprised me was that the anonymous voice didn't want money; it wanted a favor.

Instead, they wanted something from me in the near future.

Of course, I had accepted without knowing what that favor could entail. Whatever it is, I could handle it when the time comes.

What's important is the information. If I knew who Meredith was with the last time before her kidnapping.

It would reveal some things about her mysterious disappearance.

Meredith's kidnapping had affected every member of Montgomery's unconventional family; she was laughter, innocence, and mischief wrapped into one perfect package.

Everybody loved her; even Alex, with his scowling face, had a soft spot for her. And Greg the behemoth had been completely wrapped around her little manicured finger.

Not to mention Drew and Anton, who had been hit hard the most after our mother and me by her kidnapping.

Lara and Olivia, my other sisters, and Juliette had cried for days after her disappearance.

Even my little Natalie, as young as she was, who Meredith had babysat sometimes, had understood something was wrong and had asked about Meredith one too many times.

The only one that hadn't shed a single tear was Moira; she had been our strength in those days.

Meredith was a rarity in the Montgomery mansion and had always been optimistic about life, even with her traumatic upbringing, a story for another day.

Although I have tried as much as I could to shield and protect her and my other sisters since I came into her life, I'm not the only one.

All of the boys had tried to protect the girls from Theodore Montgomery's wrath and abuse. But especially her, she's the youngest.

It was a wonder she grew up to be as joyful and loving as a teenager with a past like hers.

It's like she's shaken off all the bad experiences in her life and is determined to be happy no matter what Theodore has done to squash her; it's the equivalent of giving him the finger in Meredith's style.

Seeing her smile and how easily she moved on with her life had made us want to pretend to be normal for her, even if it was farther from the truth. None of us was normal, not even her.

The grief and sadness of what happened to Meredith had been a catalyst in Victoria's heart failure, which had cut her life short, just a few months after Meredith's kidnapping.

The cops in charge of her case had come to the Montgomerys' mansion in the Hamptons during the new year.

It was a glum affair that year without the only person who usually tried to get the family in the holiday spirit.

And had announced that Meredith had probably been kidnapped by suspected human trafficking gangs that had been kidnapping young women and girls across America, Europe, Asia, and Africa.

And was possibly sold into sex slavery overseas. But they would keep looking for her, but they advised against holding out hope of ever seeing her again.

Victoria had collapsed unconscious right there and was in the hospital for two weeks before she finally succumbed to the heart problem that had been eating away at her.

This coming spring would be her first anniversary. Before her death, I had promised her that I would find Meredith and bring her back home.

No matter what I had to do. And I always keep my promises.

I had done everything in my power to find Meredith and had failed at every turn, which was a bitter pill for me to swallow.

I don't do failure, I'm Nicklaus fucking Montgomery, I get what I want when I want it. Which leads me to conclude that whatever happened to Meredith must have involved someone she knew.

Someone Meredith had trusted. It could be someone I know, someone close to our family, or me.

It's the only explanation I could come up with. And I'm going to unravel the mystery behind her disappearance; whoever had betrayed her and me in turn would forever regret that decision, even after their death.

From now on, I will treat anyone as a suspect. I've been lying low, not wanting to call unwanted attention to myself. The kind of attention that would deter my search for Meredith.

I have to play my cards right. I would do anything, go to any length to find her dead or alive, hopefully alive.

Whoever took her better keep her alive, because when I find her, and I will find her, it will be the only thing that decides their fate.

On whether or not they die quickly and painlessly or slowly and fucking painfully without their body fully intact.

“Logan, let's go back to the penthouse. It seems our informant has bailed on us.” My voice was stern, cold.

“Yes, boss.”

I straightened up and was about to get down the stairs when I abruptly stopped in my tracks. The silky mass of beautiful red hair was what caught my eye. No, not red.

Now that my eyes are entirely focused on her, I can see that her hair is a wavy strawberry blond; the owner of that hair was dancing in a most sensual way that caught my attention as equally as her beautiful hair had.

“Boss, what is it?” Logan cautiously checked the area I was staring at, his hand going to the back of his pants where his gun was tucked away.

“Get me every bit of information you can about her,” I reply with my eyes fixed on that provocative, hot body.

“Yes, boss.”

From where I'm standing, I could only see her back and that sexy little body in a short red dress she's literally wielding to torture the hungry men around her.

I felt something wild stirring from deep inside me, and a part of me that had known satisfaction a few hours ago was suddenly so embarrassingly hard.

It's been so long since I've felt instant lust like this that, too, to a faceless woman, I had to pretend I was loyal to my marriage and, in effect, Juliette, otherwise it would raise unwanted questions I'm not ready for.

I wasn't really doing it for her. I'm a man with tons of secrets and dozens, if not hundreds, of enemies.

And women had been known to be used as bait to bring down enemies, not that I couldn't deal with any such woman, but I'm man enough to know that pride begets the fall.

I'm so strung out these days that I can only relieve my stress by giving myself a hand job. Stroking myself to release isn't the same as being inside a woman's tight, wet body, but I also love testing the limits of my control.

I could have fucked Veronica earlier, but I love testing my control, not to mention I hate clingy women.

Delayed gratification has never been this hard, but my end goal far outweighs my lack of sexual satisfaction. For now, I had to let the little vixen go.

I didn't give Vixen or the strawberry blond with the banging body another glance when we left the club.

She might be hot, and my body undoubtedly wanted her, but she wasn't mine yet, and I've got far more pressing matters than fucking.

Mathew was already waiting outside at the back of the club with the car. He opened the door for me, and as I immediately entered, he went around to start the vehicle.

Logan was already seated in the front seat with him.

“Sir, someone gave me this,” Mathew said, passing me a long, sealed brown envelope. “That's it's important, and you would know who it is from.”

I take it, my heart beating so hard with anticipation, my face impassive, I didn't want to hope only for that hope to crash when I found out that it's nothing useful.

Even before I opened the envelope, I already had an inkling of who it might be from and what it contained.

Information about Meredith!

I tore open the envelope with curiosity, apprehensive about what I might see but eager to get some answers. My cold heart twisted.

It was a photograph of Meredith on the day she'd disappeared. From the way the picture was cropped so closely, it was either a photo she had taken herself on her phone or someone had taken it for her.

She was wearing a lemon-green half-vest, high-waisted jeans, and black ankle boots. The same dress Meredith wore on the day she went missing, Victoria had described the dress to the cops so many times that I'd memorize every word.

Her beautiful, long, dark hair on her left shoulder, her backpack on the other. Her lovely face was smiling in that familiar mischievous way she does when she gets up to something.

But while seeing her hurts so much, it wasn't Meredith's face that had shocked me and stolen my breath. But of the m ale beside her, equally smiling broadly.

The same man who had sworn he didn't see Meredith on the day she'd disappear when the cops had questioned him. He'd fucking lied.

Fucker!