Bound to Hope: A Forbidden Romance (The Hope Series Book 2) Page 13

  “No, I guess not. I haven’t really been looking for her. I prefer to avoid trouble, not look for it.” He takes a big bite of his pepper steak.

  “Maybe you should call some of her family and see if you can track her down,” I suggest.

  He chews and swallows. “Why? You really want to be dragged back into her games?”

  “No, but what if she needs help? You saw the way she lost it last time. What if she’s relapsed? You could be the only one who could talk some sense into her.”

  He nods and takes another bite. “Alright, when we get home, I’ll make some calls — see if I can track her down.”

  I smile. “Thank you.” I pick up my fork and take a bite. “I hope she’s staying on her medication,” I think out loud.

  He looks at me confused. “Why are you suddenly so concerned with Jane?”

  “I think we both know if she isn’t taking her medicine like she’s supposed to, she’s probably focusing on us. She’s probably locked away in a dark room somewhere, thinking about everything that happened between us all. If Jane’s happy, we’re all happy. But if Jane is pissed, we’re going to feel that wrath.”

  He chuckles. “I’m sorry, Hope. I’d hoped all this would stop eventually.”

  I shrug. “It was a good run,” I say with a laugh.

  He shakes his head and continues to eat.

  Chapter 18

  Holden

  When we get home, I grab the address book that I haven’t looked at in years, but it’s the only place I can think of to find Jane’s family’s contact information. Flipping through the pages, I find her sister’s number. I touch the digits on my phone and hit send.

  The line rings a few times before someone answers. “Hello?”

  “Hello, is this Martha?”

  “This is. Can I ask who’s calling?”

  I clear my throat. “This is Holden, Jane’s ex-husband.”

  “Oh, yes. How are you, dear?”

  “I’m great, thanks for asking. But the reason I was calling is—”

  “I haven’t heard from or seen my sister in months, Holden. I’m assuming that’s why you’re calling.”

  I let out a long breath. “It is. It seems she’s gotten into some trouble. Do you know anything about that?”

  “I do. It was several months ago. She was reported as loitering around a certain school for days on end. She just sat and watched the children. Nobody minded until she lured a small boy over to the gate.”

  “She did what?” I ask, completely confused as to why she would do that. Was she trying to abduct this boy?

  “She grabbed his shirt through the holes in the fence. The boy screamed and cried until he caught the attention of a teacher on the playground. When she was approached, she tried telling the teacher that the boy was Dean, her son.”

  I rub my forehead, trying to ease away the worry and stress this conversation is bringing on.

  “She’s off her medication, isn’t she?”

  “I can only assume. I started noticing little changes in her days prior to that, but she seemed lucid.”

  “Then what made you think she’d stopped her medication?”

  “You see, when she came here, she had this wild look in her eyes, but as time went on and she stayed on her medicine regularly, that spark started shining through. It was like she was a healthy adult again. She got a job. She met a man. She lived life and didn’t go into bouts of depression. But then, one day, that all changed. She quit her job, and I found her lying in bed in a dark room. She was slipping back into depression. That wild look in her eyes was back, and she was talking about needing to pick up Dean from school because you had to work late. It was like she created this whole dream world where Dean was a little boy, and you all were still a family.”

  Hearing this causes goosebumps to rise on my skin. She’s regressed and created a whole world, a world where Hope doesn’t exist yet. Her hatred of Hope frightens me. I’m not sure what she’s is capable of doing, especially if she’s trying to pick up a little boy because she’s tricked herself into believing that he’s Dean.

  “Did you say something to her — try to get her back on her medication? Was this before or after she came here to visit?”

  “This all happened after your visit. When she came back from seeing you, she quit her job, and everything started spiraling from there.”

  “Okay, Martha. Thank you for filling me in. We need to find her. Who knows what she’s capable of doing right now? She’s not in her right mind.”

  “I’ve been doing everything I can. I go to her house every day hoping she’s returned, but I always find it empty. I’ve been paying the rent, so she doesn’t lose her belongings, but I can’t keep doing it, Holden. I’m retired and living on a budget.”

  “I’ll send you some money. Do you think you can hire a company to pack her things to put into storage? When we find her, she won’t be going home. She’ll be going back to an in-patient facility.”

  “I’m sure I can manage that,” she answers.

  “Okay, Martha. Thank you.” Justas I’m about to hang up, she calls out to me. “Yes?”

  “I found a private detective who can find her, but I don’t have the money to pay him. Would you like his information?”

  “Yeah, that might be a start,” I say, grabbing a pen and paper.

  I write down the information she gives me and end the call. With a troubled heart, I find Hope in the bedroom, undressing.

  “Hey, any luck?” she asks, turning to look at me.

  “Not exactly,” I answer while sitting on the edge of the bed.

  She walks across the room and sits beside me where I relay everything I found out. The look on her face is a mixture of worry and fear.

  “I can’t believe this,” she says, looking at me with pain visible in her eyes.

  I take her hand in mine and kiss the top. “I know, but I’m going to find her. Martha gave me a number for a private investigator. I’m going to give him a call tomorrow. Who knows, maybe she’s been living off her credit cards, and he can track her down.”

  She nods. “I’m just so worried about her, and for any child she may come in contact with.”

  “Me too,” I say, picturing her, standing at that fence, looking for the son she lost years ago.

  When I get to my office in the morning, I pull out my phone and call the number Martha gave me.

  “Jonathan Davis,” he answers.

  “Yes, hi. My name is Holden Brantford. I was told you might could help in locating my ex-wife.”

  “You’ve called the right guy, Mr. Brantford. But before we begin, I need to ask why you’re looking for you ex-wife. I don’t help stalkers.”

  I want to laugh but I don’t. “No, no, it’s nothing like that. My ex, she’s mentally ill, and she’s missing. She’s putting herself in danger, not to mention anyone who comes in contact with her. I need to find her to get her proper help.”

  “I see. Can I get her name please?”

  “Jane Louise Brantford,” I answer.

  “I’m also going to need her most recent address, her social security number, any credit card numbers she may be using, and any tips on where she may have run off to.”

  I give him what information I can, but I don’t know where she may have gone or her credit card numbers.

  When I get off the phone, I transfer a deposit into the investigator’s account for him to start work. Then I call Martha to see if she can go over to Jane’s to look for statements she may have left laying around the house.

  I’m elbow deep in grease from working on a bike when Hope comes in.

  “Hey, baby. What are you doing here?” I ask, wiping my hands and arms as clean as I can with a shop rag.

  “I dropped by to take those photos of the bikes you were needing.”

  Suddenly, a thought pops into my head. “Can I use your phone?” I ask.

  Her brows pull together, but she hands it over. “Who are you calling?”

&nb
sp; I scroll though until I find the number. I push send and bring the phone to my ear. “Your dad,” I answer.

  He picks up on the third ring. “Hi, pumpkin.”

  “Gary, this is Holden.”

  “How’re you doing, Holden?”

  “Not the best,” I reply. “Listen, I was wondering if you or Lisa had seen Jane around town — maybe poking around our old house?”

  “No, we haven’t seen her. Isn’t she living in Texas now?” he asks.

  “She is… or she was. I don’t know. She stopped going to her meetings, and we think she’s off her medication. Nobody can locate her.”

  He’s quiet for a long minute. “Well, now that you mention it, there was a break-in a couple weeks ago.”

  Every hair on my body stands at attention. “A break-in?”

  “Uh-huh — at your old house there across the street.”

  “Was anything taken, or did they find out who did it?”

  “Nope, nothing,” he replies. “It was during the day while the family was away. Said not a thing was touched. They wouldn’t have even known if the back door wasn’t left unlocked, and one of the bedroom doors was open when they know they shut it.”

  I bet she went back there to see Dean’s room. “Okay, thank you, Gary.”

  “You’re welcome. Say, Holden, she isn’t dangerous, is she?”

  I’d like to say no, but I honestly don’t know. “I don’t think she’d hurt anyone, but she was caught trying to pick a kid up from school. She called him Dean.”

  He’s silent. “I’m sorry, Holden. I hope you can find her.”

  “Me too. Have a good day,” I say, ending the call. I look over at Hope, who’s been standing patiently at my side.

  “She’s been back to our old house,” I tell her.

  She rolls her eyes and massages her temples. “This is getting out of hand. We have a week until the wedding. How can we go off and act like nothing’s wrong with this going on?” Her shoulders fall slightly. “We should postpone the wedding.”

  I move in closer, pulling her against my chest. “No. Nothing is stopping me from marrying you, angel. When the time comes to leave, we’ll drop all this mess and pick it back up when we get home. Okay?” I tilt her head back to look at me.

  Her dark eyes hold sadness, but she nods in agreement.

  Chapter 19

  Hope

  The week passes by quickly with no leads on where Jane may be. Dread fills me as we board the plane, but I try to keep it hidden. I don’t want Holden to think I don’t want to marry him because I do, I just want to reassurance that something bad isn’t going to happen while we’re gone — something nobody can give me.

  We’re both quiet and lost in our own thoughts on the flight. I can tell he’s worried about the same thing I am — Jane and what she may do. He reaches over and takes my hand in his.

  “I can tell you’re worried, and I don’t want you to be. Tell me what I can do to ease your mind.”

  My eyes lock on his. “I don’t know, Holden. I wish I knew how to make myself forget about all of this. This is supposed to be a happy time for us, but all I feel is dread.”

  He lifts my hand to his lips and plants a firm kiss to the top. “Let’s just focus on us. We’re going to get married so we can spend the rest of our lives together. Any time we catch one another thinking about it, we’ll do something to change the subject. Deal?”

  I smile and nod. “Deal,” I agree.

  We both get comfy in our seats and let the conversation drop between us. He breaks the silence when he says, “We need to start thinking about the honeymoon.”

  My smile forms on its own. “I almost forgot about it. Can you take the time off work?”

  He nods. “I’m the boss, of course I can.”

  “I’m thinking warm, sandy beaches.”

  He grins wide. “You in a bikini, you got it.”

  I laugh and lean in for a kiss. “Hawaii?”

  “Whatever you want,” he says against my lips.

  We get to Vegas a day before everyone else. We want time to settle in and file for our marriage license. After we drop our things off in our honeymoon suite, we head for the courthouse. Once all the paperwork is filed and paid for, we head back to the hotel to spend some time in the casino before dinner.

  I’m feeding coins into a slot machine when Holden finds me and hands me a frozen cocktail. The drink is red with fruit, a swirly straw, and an umbrella. I smile wide. “Oh, isn’t this festive.” My fingers close around the glass, and I take a sip of the sweet, frozen mixture. “This is amazing.”

  Holden sits at the machine beside me. “How amazing? Amazing enough to get you naked in that walk-in shower in our room?”

  I take another drink and set it down. “I don’t need a fruity drink for that. It was already on my checklist.”

  We play around in the casino for a few hours before we head to the connected restaurant for dinner. We’re sitting at the two-person table, sipping on our drinks when I pick up on his nervousness. He’s fidgeting, and his eyes are bouncing all around.

  “What is going on with you? Why do you look nervous?”

  He takes a deep breath. “Because I’m afraid that you’re going to rip my balls off and hand them to me.”

  My brows pull together. “What did you do?”

  He adjusts himself in his seat and leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I know the wedding gifts usually wait until the actual wedding, but I can’t hold onto this anymore.”

  “Gifts? I didn’t know we were doing gifts?”

  He pulls an envelope from his inside jacket pocket. “You don’t have to get me a gift, Hope. You’re giving me everything I could ever want by marrying me.” He passes over the envelope.

  I take it with shaking hands and open it, pulling out a sheaf of papers. Unfolding them, I read the top: Deed of Trust.

  I read further down the paper and see he purchased a building in my name. I look up at him. “What is this?”

  His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “I bought you your own studio. After the honeymoon, you can get to work on setting it up and running it yourself.”

  I know I’ve told him time and time again I didn’t want him to do this, but I can’t help but smile. Tears sting my eyes as I cover my open mouth with my hand. “Holden, you didn’t have to do this.”

  “I know I didn’t. I wanted to. You deserve that building. You deserve to live your dream — you’re giving me mine after all. I thought it only fair to give you yours.”

  I drop the paper onto the table and lean over for a kiss. When we break apart, I whisper, “Thank you so much,” against his lips.

  “So, you like it?”

  I fold the paper back up and place it in the envelope. “I love it.”

  He smiles wide, happy to see me happy. “That’s a relief. I seriously thought you’d hate me for it.”

  I laugh. “Well, that didn’t stop you from buying it.”

  “No, but I thought if you left me, the building would still be in your name, and you’d get your dream anyway.”

  I shake my head. “My dream is you — us. That’s it.”

  He reaches out and takes my hand, squeezing it gently.

  The second the elevator doors close, I’m pushed against the wall with Holden’s lips on mine. His hand slowly pushes my dress up my thigh while his tongue glides against my own. He hitches my leg up over his hip and presses himself against my core. It lights a fire deep in my belly.

  The elevator quickly comes to a stop and a ding fills my ears. Suddenly, he pulls himself away from me, standing by my side with his chest heaving just as quickly as mine is while an elderly couple steps inside with us. The way the lady looks at us, she clearly knows what we were doing in here.

  My face blushes as we wait out the rest of the ride in silence. When we get to our floor, Holden says, “Excuse us,” as we squeeze past the elderly couple. The old man is smiling widely as he looks me up and down, but the old
er lady at his side is frowning.

  “You should be ashamed of yourself,” she tells Holden.

  He offers her a grin. “I’m shameless, ma’am.” He nods a farewell as her mouth hangs open.

  The corners of my mouth turn up. Usually something like that would bother him, but it seems like he’s putting that behind him. Taking my hand, he leads me down the hallway to our room.

  After he unlocks our door, he holds it open for me. I step in ahead of him and spin around to catch him in a kiss the moment the door closes behind him. This time, there’s no stopping us. His hands land on my ass as he lifts me up against him. I wrap my legs around his waist and tangle my fingers into his smooth, jet black hair while my lips move with his.

  He has my thin dress worked up my legs, all the way to my stomach. As he lays me back on the bed, his hand applies pressure to my drenching sex, and I gasp.

  His name slips from my lips in a hushed whisper. He stands up and begins removing his shirt as his eyes take me in. “What is it, angel?”

  “I need you,” I say, working my dress above my head and dropping it on the floor.

  His eyes land on my bare chest, and he licks his lips like he can’t wait to devour me. “I hope so, baby, because I’m not leaving you,” he rubs against me again, “for the rest of the night.” His fingers slide under the thin material, and he yanks my panties down my legs, revealing the part of my body that needs him the most.

  Slowly, he crouches, lowering his mouth to me. His tongue runs between my folds, immediately making my back arch off the bed. Reaching beneath my thighs, he wraps his hands around my hips, and pulls me to the edge of the bed. “There’s no running away, angel.”

  My body is no longer being controlled by me, but by my need for him. My fingers tangle into his hair as my hips move, grinding against his face. His tongue starts dancing against my hard nub, filling me with a rising orgasm as he slides his fingers deeply inside.

  I call out for him, which only causes him to try harder. I’m panting, completely out of breath with my heart pounding when release finally washes over me, drowning me in the love I feel only for him.