Brutal Heir (Billionaire Heirs #2)

Chapter 25

Sage

I arrive at the guard shack, the engine rumbling as I come to a stop. Ochoa steps out of the booth and saunters up, all swagger and confidence.

“Mornin’, Miss Sage.” He braces the clipboard against his hand, filling in my truck’s information and my name like it’s any other day, but it’s not. Today is Sunday, my day off. The fact he’s acting like nothing’s wrong says more about me and the time I spend at the office than anything else.

“Morning, Ochoa.” I try not to let the realization ruin my day, not after the marvelous way it started. “Anything to report?”

“Nothing.” He shakes his head but doesn’t lift his head as he continues writing. “With the holiday, we haven’t had anyone going in and out.”

I glance at the log and see I’m the second line, so only one other person has been by since six o’clock this morning.

“I guess that’s a good thing.”

“Gonna be a long day?” he asks.

I shake my head, “Nope, I should just be here long enough to do some paperwork for tomorrow.”

“I heard a rumor,” he says, his head snapping up so he can look at me. “Is it true the office got sold?”

I’m hesitant to give information, but it’s really a done deal, so what’s the harm in him finding out a few hours early. “Yes,” I finally confirm. “We’ll get the official announcement tomorrow.”

He nods. “Okay. Anything I should worry about?”

He’s concerned about his job. Well, technically, so am I. Nobody really knows what’ll happen with the new owner.

I try to put him at ease. “I don’t think so, but we’ll find out for sure tomorrow.” His shoulders slump in obvious disappointment he won’t get any additional information from me. I give a two-finger wave and move along.

As I drive down the familiar road toward the office, I can feel my nerves starting to creep up on me. The building comes into view. I take a deep breath. Will this be one of the last times I see it?

The parking lot is empty except for Elena’s car, parked neatly in her usual spot. Ah, she was the first line on the log. It doesn’t surprise me. She’s another workaholic, and I’m sure she’s trying to prepare for tomorrow.

I pull up beside it, turn off the engine, and step out into the stillness of the lot. The sun is shining, and there’s a warm breeze, but I can’t shake the feeling something’s off. I glance around, taking stock of the area, looking for any threat, but I’m alone.

I take the steps at a quick pace, hand hovering over the railing. All those safety videos have fueled my habits, over the years. I don’t tend to have issues when I don’t have a big, hunky rancher watching my every move.

The monitor at the door clicks, unlocking as soon as it recognizes the app on my cell. I make my way into the building, my footsteps echoing through the empty hallway. The silence is deafening, and I can feel my anxiety growing with every step. I check her office, but it’s empty. Maybe she’s getting some coffee . But the break room is empty, too, and the bathroom is dark.

The sense of unease I got when I arrived comes back with a vengeance. It’s like I’m the only person left in a deserted city. Where is she? What’s going on? The unanswered questions buzz in my head like angry bees, and I can feel a sense of dread inching closer.

“Elena?” I go running toward the back, in case we happen to have walked in opposite directions. But that can’t be. I would have heard her footsteps, like I can hear my steel-toe boots doing now. “Elena!” I repeat, loud enough for her to hear me anywhere in the building.

I stop at Bill’s office. There are a couple of boxes, partially filled, like he’s packing. What happened here? Has he been fired?

I pull out my phone and unlock it, fingers shaking slightly as I navigate to the contacts list and dial her number. The line is ringing as I head to the back, pushing the bar to throw open the door.

I check the smoking area, even though I know she doesn’t have that habit. Nothing. Then her phone goes to voice mail.

Cold, hard fear settles in. I can almost feel someone coming up behind me. I check over my shoulder to make sure that isn’t the case. I’m alone. Just miles of mesquite and brush all around me. God protect me, but, for the first time since the incident, I wish I had a weapon.

“Elena,” I call out in desperation. I make it all the way around to the parking area. Her car is still there, so I haven’t missed her. I scan the ground, looking for signs of a struggle, and find nothing. That leaves me with an even bigger mystery.

I turn back to my cell, scanning the screen for the number I need. My stomach is in knots as the phone in the guard shack rings. After what seems like an eternity, Ochoa picks up. “What time did Elena come in?” I ask, voice holding a slight tremble.

“Elena?” he says, confusion clear in his tone.

“Yes, Elena Santos.” As if there’s more than one. “What time did she come in this morning?”

“Uh, just a sec.”

Papers rustle on the other end of the line as Ochoa searches for something. My stomach clenches with anxiety, and I take a deep breath to try and calm myself. Finally, he speaks again.

“Sorry, Sage, but Elena hasn’t been to the office this morning.” My knees go weak. This can’t be happening. “I thought maybe she came in before I got here, but no.”

“Check yesterday’s page,” I instruct, hoping against hope she was just missed somehow.

There’s a rustling sound as Ochoa flips the page. After a moment, he says, “No, I don’t see her on here.”

A sense of panic rises inside me. “Are you sure?”

“I’m positive,” he replies firmly, papers still rustling. “Wait a minute. Rudy has her logging in on Friday.”

“Friday?” I come up with all kinds of scenarios in my head. Was there a fight? Was it an illegal alien? Was it a wild animal? I can feel my heart pounding in my chest as I get a flashback of the snake incident.

“There’s no exit,” he says, catching on to my concern. “Hang on. Let me call him.” He puts me on hold, but, seconds later, he comes back. “No answer. I left a message and…I just sent a text.”

“Thanks.” I’m dreading the next steps, but it has to be done. “I’ll call Bill. You get on the radio to gate five and three, tell them to shut down and get over here so we can search the perimeter.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Code 10-40, Ochoa.” The code giving them authorization to speed on the premises, without using sirens.

“Roger that,” he says, sounding serious.

I take a deep breath and pick the phone up again, this time calling Bill. The phone rings once, twice, three times. My heart sinks as his voice mail starts. Elena’s like one of his own kids, so I know he won’t handle this well.

Taking a deep breath I try and figure out what to say without causing a panic. Bill has enough going on with his wife being sick.

“Bill, it’s Sage. Can you give me a call as soon as you get this message?”

Ochoa comes down the road and pull into the parking lot. “What’s the plan?”

“We need to check the perimeter.” I swallow hard. “In case there are signs of foul play.” I can’t even imagine having to do a notification on someone I know. Especially someone I just sat down with a couple of days ago.

Ochoa looks out at the brush. “You think she got taken?”

The memory of feeling like someone was coming up behind me returns. A memory of a fist coming down. Pain exploding on the side of my head. My ribs breaking. I shake the memory away.

“I don’t know.” Which isn’t going to set anyone at ease. “But we have to start somewhere.”

He nods. “I’ll get my gaiters.”

“Damn.” I curse under my breath.

“No snake guards?” he asks.

You’d think I’d have some with me after what I just went through. “No, I don’t.”

“I’ll get started,” he says heading back to his SUV. “The guys should have some, too.” He pops open the back. “We’ll do the leg work.”

“Thanks.” I make a mental note to get some snake guards.

“I should have asked if anyone’s seen illegals,” Ochoa says offhandedly.

“Oh.” My eyes widen. “I saw a group on the side of the road.”

He stops, one leg covered in the snake guard. “Coming out of the ranch?”

“They were toward the far end of the ranch, over by the property line.” Which is probably too far.

My phone rings. The familiar tone announces Bill calling. I take a deep breath and hit the button, while Ochoa heads back to his vehicle.

“Bill, thanks for getting back to me.” Another call comes in. Ezequiel. Unfortunately, I have to let the call go to voice mail.

“What’s wrong, Sage?” Bill asks, both tired and serious.

“Listen, something’s happened.” I moderate my tone, making sure I don’t sound dire. “I came to the office earlier and found Elena’s car.” I lick my lips. “Seems Rudy logged her in on Friday, but she never logged out.” Never…I shouldn’t have used that word.”

“Nobody noticed she didn’t leave?” he asks, his composure cracking.

I shut my eyes. “I know.” How could the guard not check on her?

“Let’s not get carried away,” he says, reverting to his usual steady tone. “I’m sure you’ve already hit all the worst-case scenarios.”

“You don’t think it’s foul play?” I ask, hoping she isn’t hurt, or worse. Some of the people coming through are hardened criminals.

“Her car’s there, so there’s a good chance she’s okay. She probably had car trouble and got a ride back to town. Have you tried calling her?”

“She didn’t answer.” I feel like I’m going to be sick. “I’m really worried, Bill.” My voice trembles, despite trying my best to keep it steady. “There’s no sign of a struggle.” Though that doesn’t mean she wasn’t taken.

“We’re heading home, but it’ll be hours before I make it.” His wife is asking questions in the background. My heart breaks for her. “Can you get someone to check her house?”

“I’ll go.” It’s something I can do, since I’m not prepared for anything else. “I have the guards on the way to help check the perimeter.”

“Good idea,” he says, sounding sad.

This can’t be happening. Not to Elena. I take a deep breath and try to focus on the task at hand. I need to find her. I need to find out what’s happened.

“I’ll keep you updated.”

“Call Ezequiel,” he suggests. “He can round up his guys to lend a hand.”

“Will do.” I end the call. A second guard has shown up. Ochoa’s bringing him up to date. “I’m heading to town to check her place.”

Ochoa gives a thumbs up. I jump in my truck and head up the road and around the cones he set up across the one gate that doesn’t have an actual bar to close the entrance. We may have to do something about that.

I hit the highway just as the third guard heads into the ranch. Thank goodness . I smash my foot down on the gas.

Crap, I have to call Ezequiel. I bring the phone up so I’m holding it at the top of the steering wheel as I find the number and hit the button to call.

The phone rings; my blood pressure skyrockets. “Damn it. Doesn’t anyone answer their phones anymore?”