Saving Hailey: Dark Academia, Enemies To Lovers, Mafia Romance (Shadows of Obsession Book 2)

Foley only had one question on the ride back to my loft.

“How did you sway the cleanest cop in the country?”

How indeed. Many before me tried to buy Vaughn offering more money than he could ever spend. And they’re all wearing orange jumpsuits behind steel bars, serving twenty-five to life.

“Everyone has a weakness, Michael. You should know that better than anyone. Vaughn’s weakness is his family. Or what’s left of it. He’s stubborn, but not stupid. He knows I’m his best chance at getting Hailey back in one piece.”

That seemed to satisfy his curiosity and he remained silent until a rehearsed “It’s always a pleasure” once he stopped his beloved Merc outside my building.

I exit the car, taking care not to slam the door and send the usually composed Foley into a fit.

Broadway’s custom, bulletproof Range Rover is haphazardly parked by the curb, the owner notably missing, which means he already let himself into my place. When I collected my phone, on my way out of the precinct, there were three missed calls from him waiting on the screen.

As soon as I enter the elevator, the urgency in my veins forces me to dial Rhett’s number, the phone weighing down my hand. The line connects almost as if he were waiting for my call, and Rhett’s gruff voice fills my ear.

“That didn’t take long,” he says. “I expected Vaughn to put up more of a fight.”

I guess Dante already told him Vaughn took me in for questioning. Either that, or Rhett’s keeping tabs on Vaughn.

It wouldn’t surprise me.

“He’s out of bargaining chips,” I say, watching the elevator doors slide shut. It’s a short ride to the third floor, so the signal never cuts off. “Hailey’s not with him and—”

“She’s not?” he cuts in. “Are you certain he’s not leading you by the nose?”

He’s not you.

“I’m certain. He thought I had her.”

“You don’t,” he states the obvious, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. “So if we don’t have Hailey, and he doesn’t have Hailey… who does?”

“The evidence could make a lot of people very rich and very powerful, but Matthews was found in Tappan Lake, so one name stands out on your long list of enemies.”

“Fuck… you’re thinking Noretto.”

“I—” I trip over the word, correcting myself quickly. “We can’t afford to lose any more time. Her memories started rushing back before she ran. If she remembers where the evidence is while she’s away, she might not be able to protect the information.”

I don’t mention that she no longer trusts me, or that she’s most likely made the connection between me and Rhett, or that she saw the old fool perform an execution. He can’t know. If he finds out, he’ll pay Noretto Hailey’s weight in fucking rubies to get her back and kill her himself.

“You had one fucking job,” Rhett mutters under his breath.

So did he: keeping the cops a long way away from his business dealings. We wouldn’t be in this predicament if he were more careful.

Then again, I would’ve never met Hailey…

“I’ll make some calls, see what I can dig up,” he adds, frustration edging his tone. “We should’ve considered this sooner. You were too certain she was with Vaughn.”This belongs to NôvelDrama.Org.

“It’s a little late for we should’ve, Rhett.”

“I suppose it is. One–one, son. We both fucked up. Stay put for now. I’ll handle this.”

I clench my jaw, knowing the implications of Rhett handling shit. “Don’t do anything stupid. If you reach out to Blaze, he’ll tighten his grip. He’ll triple her security or move her off the grid. While he doesn’t realize we’re onto him, we have the upper hand.”

“Fine. I’ll be discreet. Let me know if your tech guys find anything before I do.”

“I will.”

The elevator opens and I enter my loft through the main door I barely ever use. I mostly enter from the parking lot, using the old-fashioned, private, lattice-gated elevator that stops in the open plan living area.

Broadway’s not alone like I expected. Ryder, Koby, and Jackson are stationed around the spacious kitchen island, three laptops before them, cables, hard drives, and other tech equipment taking up most of the dark-wood counter. They barely notice me enter, their eyes glued to the screens illuminating their faces.

“Should I open a bottle of champagne? Celebrate your newfound freedom?” Broadway asks, his cynical tone not escaping my attention.

“Stop pouting. I told you I knew what I was doing. The warrant was forged. He had nothing on me.”

“Well, I didn’t know that. A little heads-up would’ve been nice. I don’t read minds, Carter.”

“Ignore him,” Jackson rumbles. “He’s a bit touchy because he mouthed off to Dante when Vaughn took you.”

A smirk curls my lips, the closest thing to a smile I’ve managed since Hailey disappeared. “You’re still breathing, so I guess he took it easy on you.”

“Yeah, special treatment seeing as you were in grave peril, and after your time at Lakeside everybody knows Broadway doesn’t handle separation all that well,” Koby pipes in, twisting the knife a little further.

“Fuck you,” Broadway grumbles. “So? How did the run-in with your future father-in-law go down?”

“As you’d expect. A lot of theatricalities, fist-on-table banging, and growling, but once we established neither of us had Hailey, he changed his tune. I have his blessing to—”

“What?” Ryder’s head whips to me so fast I hear a crack. “He doesn’t mind his only daughter dating a criminal?”

“I have his blessing to do whatever it takes to bring Hailey back safe,” I finish, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. “He’s not happy about the dating part.” I stand behind Ryder, watching him attempt to… I don’t really know what the fuck he’s doing or what he can decipher from the gibberish on the screen. “You got anything?”

“Not yet. Patience, Carter. We’ll find her.”

“You’ve been saying that for a week.”

“Yeah, I have. Good job we never blindly follow your every order. I’ve been checking out Rhett’s enemies since the start.”

Another small smirk curves my lips. “That’s why you’re my people.”

He rolls his eyes, still annoyed at my shortsightedness. Hailey’s been turning my brain to mush since day one, but this puts me on a brand-new level of bad decisions.

“Maybe if Rhett hadn’t screwed over half of North America, I’d have landed on Noretto sooner.” Ryder waves me off, eyes back on the screen, fingers tapping the keyboard so fast they’re almost a blur. “Call Dante. He wants an update.”

I grab a burner phone and spend ten minutes briefing my boss. Turns out it wasn’t him who tipped off Rhett. So, like I thought, Rhett somehow bugged Vaughn’s phone. Or maybe his house. Or the precinct. Probably all three.

“Did you ever get a chance to look through Hailey’s texts?” Ryder asks when I’m done talking to Dante.

“I did.”

And I still break out in fucking hives thinking about it. I read them a few days ago when Jackson emailed over the contents of Hailey’s phone. I wanted her and Vaughn’s old messages, hoping I’d find clues.

I combed through every single word, but instead of clues, all I found were more reasons to kill a dead man and new reasons to maim Vaughn.

Jackson sent over the file while I was in Ohio, chasing improbable leads. I checked into a hotel for the night, opening the Alex-Hailey exchange first, a badass headache licking my temples. I promised her I wouldn’t invade her privacy again, but I had little choice.

She stopped hiding her diary after I slipped up and told her I’d read it, and started handing it over willingly whenever she added something new during our last days at Lakeside. But reading her texts, diving into a past she herself can’t remember, wasn’t something I took lightly.

With a glass of Bourbon in hand, I dived right in, skimming over the pages at first to find keywords.

Anything related to Vaughn, Aalyiah, or the evidence.

It quickly become obvious Alex didn’t pay Hailey a tenth of the attention he did my little sister. His messages were short, clipped, to the point. Downright rude. Few and far between.

But Hailey texted him a few times a day, occasionally getting a crappy response. Her vulnerability, how much she craved his attention and any shred of contact, bled from the electronic pages, tearing me a new one. The list of Alex’s sins has been growing for weeks, and in that moment, I seriously considered digging the fucker from his grave for the second time to stamp on whatever my men left of his skull.

I was in Ohio anyway.

It wouldn’t be the same as killing him, but it’d take the edge off the fury writhing inside me.

Hailey: I made your favorite pie. Will you come over?

No answer. Then hours later:

Hailey: Maybe drive by on your way home. I wrapped a slice for you.

Again, no reply.

Hailey: I’ll give it to Dad. He’ll pass it along to you tomorrow at work. I hope you’ll love it.

Alex: Don’t. He’ll ask questions. Stop texting. I’m busy.

Hailey: Are you with her?

No reply.

According to the date, it was June fourth. Almost three months before the accident. Three months before my sister took her life. Hailey knew about Aalyiah… yet she still craved Alex’s attention, even though she was perfectly aware she wasn’t his first choice.

The messages carried on in the same pattern. Short, clipped answers, lack of affection. She did something nice for him, invited him over, tried every trick in the book to earn half an hour of his time, and he ignored her.

Until he didn’t… June sixth, nineth, fourteenth and seventeenth. On those days, Alex texted first.

And all messages went down the same way, word for word.

Alex: Is Charlie home?

Hailey: No, he’s at work. Are you coming over?

Alex: Yeah. Ten minutes. It’s been a hell of a week and I need you. I need your lips wrapped around my cock, sweetheart. Get ready.

I had to flex my fingers and push calming, steady breaths past my lips to stop myself throwing the laptop at the wall.

June seventeenth… he wasn’t fucking my sister then. That started on June twenty-sixth.

I doubt those dates will ever leave my head. Neither that one, nor all those days when Alex hurt Hailey, using her to get off, then leaving her alone and… sad.

She deserved so much better than she ever got from Alex.

So much better than she ever got from me.

Reading through the messages, I thought—I fucking hoped—Alex had stopped abusing Hailey once my sister put out, but no.

Every next message I read hit harder. Her need for attention was so clear… as was the sadness.

It was just text on screen, but I felt how resigned she was. How lost. How fucking lonely.

They never mentioned Aalyiah by name, but every time Hailey asked are you with her, I knew that’s who they were talking about. Even when Alex replied yes, she didn’t stop trying. She waited a day and tried to lure him in with something else. Cookies, dinner, his favorite pie.

It never worked.

And it hit me like a low blow when I got to the part where Hailey invited him over for a blowjob.

Hailey: If you’re not busy, Charlie’s working late again. He said you two had a stressful week, so I’m here if you need some stress relief.

How lonely was she to offer herself up like that? Too fucking lonely considering what I read in the texts between her and Vaughn. It was like another bucket of ice-cold water over my head.

I knew he escaped into work after his wife’s death but, given how worried he was about Hailey, I expected they were close.

Unfortunately, their texts painted a very different picture. He worked non-stop. The document had a wall of messages, all on the same theme.

Dad: Working late. Don’t wait up.

Dad: I’ll be home late. Order a pizza.

Dad: Got an emergency here, won’t be home for hours.

I purposefully cross-referenced the date of Hailey’s blowjob text to Alex against the Hailey-Dad texts.

Dad: I’ll be home around seven, sunshine.

Hailey: Don’t be late. I rented out your favorite movie and I’m making pasta.

Dad: Sounds perfect.

And then, two hours later, close to eight in the evening, Hailey sent another text.

Hailey: Where are you? The food’s getting cold.

It took Vaughn another hour to reply.

Dad: Sorry, kiddo. Guys from work dragged me out for a drink. Leave me a plate in the fridge.

My imagination immediately pulled Hailey’s sad face to the front. I could easily picture her hunched over a dining table set for two, the food on her plate cold as she read that text.

It’s been days since I read it, but it still kills me to think about her spending hours in the kitchen, getting everything ready, then clearing the table because Vaughn preferred a drink with his buddies to an evening with his daughter. It wasn’t the only time that happened. The same pattern repeated itself every ten days or so. He told her he’d be there; she made an effort to cook, clean, rent a movie or set up board games, and then he stood her up.

But she never gave up. She kept trying and trying, getting nothing but disappointment in return.

Both Alex and Vaughn took her for granted. It’s good she can’t remember it. She keeps her father on a fucking pedestal and he doesn’t deserve it. He failed her time and time again.

Gritting my teeth, I shake off the moment, frustration amplifying the headache I’ve been battling for a week.

Waiting for Rhett or my men to find confirmation that Noretto has Hailey feels counterproductive but, save for driving to Pittsburgh without a plan in place, I have no other choice.

◆◆◆

“Carter, wake up.” Broadway’s poking my shoulder, standing over me with my phone. “It’s Rhett.”

I sit up, running a hand down my face to chase the sleep away. It’s barely three in the morning, which means I nodded off for two hours after settling into the leather couch with a glass of whiskey and Broadway for company.

The faint sound of fingers tapping at a keyboard echoes in the quiet space while my men still work behind me.

I grab the phone, sliding my thumb across the screen. “Working overtime, I see. Any news?”

“Would I call for a chit-chat?” he spits back. “Of course I have news. Hailey’s right where we thought she would be.”

My heart lurches and my mind whirs around all the things Noretto’s men could’ve done to her by now.

I inhale a deep breath, marshaling the worry gnawing at my frayed brain. “Are you sure?”

“Yes I’m fucking sure, Carter.”

The sound of a safety being flipped clicks on his end and I no longer need an explanation. Sounds like he tortured the information out of some poor fucker and ended the interrogation in his usual fashion with a bullet between the eyes.

“I have one of Blaze’s men here. Well… his corpse. He clued me in on a few details. Like the fact Blaze holds his monthly auction in the basement of his strip club. It starts at seven pm and he always attends, so he won’t be home. Neither will most of his goons. That’s our window. Less security, less guns, less chance of dying. I’m sending Apollo with a team. You want in?”

Fuck. I did not anticipate Rhett taking matters into his own hands. I was certain he’d leave the extraction on my head as punishment for losing Hailey in the first place.

With his men in the picture, my chances of taking her off the grid without being followed are slim. Rhett’s either tired of waiting and decided to take care of Hailey himself, or he doesn’t trust me for shit and plans to take me out.

Let him try.

“We’ll stop by Columbus at four in the afternoon. Have your men ready to roll out.”

“They’ll be waiting,” he confirms, dragging the sentence in a way that tells me he’s onto me.

If that’s the case… if he realizes my allegiance has shifted from him, Dante, and everyone else in this world, to Hailey, then he’ll do whatever it takes to make me pay for insubordination.

He drops the call first, leaving my mind racing through the possibilities. As it stands, Rhett’s one step ahead. He’s never showed me all his cards, withholding information that might be crucial, like how does he know Hailey has the evidence or who it was he killed at the warehouse. The devil always lies in the details and I’m seriously lacking those.

“What did he say?” Broadway prompts somewhere behind me. “Where is she?”

I turn to find all four of them staring, ears perked, shoulders squared, backs straight like drawn strings: ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice.

“Noretto has her. Rhett’s sending his men with us which means we need to figure out how we’ll move her to the safe house without being followed.”

“How many is he sending?”

“He didn’t say.”

“Do you have a plan?” Ryder asks, eyes on me, but fingers flickering over the keyboard. “Because if you don’t, I may.”

“Hold that thought. I’ll call Dante and the rest of the crew. You can explain it at Bravo.”

They all nod, new energy coursing through them, evident in every hastened move they make while packing up.

Time to even out the playing field.