Page 73 of I Would Beg For You
She nods. “I’ve seen her spaced out a few times. Chalked it up to the strain of the campaign, and that she was missing you. You two haven’t seen each other since we were last here, right?”
I shake my head. A picture is forming, and I suddenly want to retch. “You think he was drugging her?”
“It’s easier to commit someone to such a place if their blood work shows substance abuse,” Carson ventures to say. “There must be a verifiable problem, an offer to help extended, and the person refusing the proffered help.”
“But doesn’t a judge have to sign off on this or something?”
He gives a dry laugh. “You don’t think they have a judge in their pockets?”
I’m frowning now. “They? I thought it was her father who did this.”
“It goes deeper than this.” He turns to Anya, gives her a nod.
She turns to me. “You know they have her phone, right?”
I nod.
“Well, you’re listed in her contacts as Tina. I’m supposing it’s so it won’t draw attention. If they went through her text history with you, they’ll figure out something was going on.”
I cringe softly. We sexted on that thread earlier on.
“Pineridge doesn’t state this anywhere,” Anya continues. “But in certain closed circles, they’re better known for the fact they provide conversion therapy.”
My stomach bottoms out. Tina—they thought she was dating a woman. And a governor not promoting LGBTQ+ rights couldn’t have that come out during his campaign.
“The plan to marry her off to Billings’ son,” I say. “That was also their doing?”
“Valentino, you of all people should know power is wielded in the corridors everywhere and very rarely out in the open,” Carson says.
The man’s bread and butter came from knowing the ins and outs of the country’s politics. And here I find who he’s actually working for all this time.
“You’re Reeves’ what? Employee?” I ask.
He laughs. “Let’s just say he gave me a leg up, and I return the favor anytime I can.”
That’s as close as admitting he works for the man that I’d get. Of course, the likes of Reeves don’t get their hands dirty—they have others everywhere to move the pieces for them.
“Why are you here today? And how?” I ask.
He shrugs. “I was in DC when Declan called me. I would’ve helped anyway, but I’m fond of Naomi.”
“You know her?”
“She’s got a brilliant mind. Needs some refining, but I’d have hired her to work for me even without her uncle asking me to keep an eye on her.”
It’s not making sense…until it does. Naomi was returning from Salt Lake City when I met her again. She’d mentioned doing an internship there at some point. I didn’t ask where or for whom. Turns out we were both coming home after passing through the offices of Carson Felix back then.
A ringtone shakes the atmosphere, and I tense up. Anya pops the laptop open and accepts the call. Declan Reeves gives us a nod from his side.
“What do we do?” I ask, wasting no time in preambles.
“You’re getting her out,” he states.
“You bet I am.”
I can’t even allow myself to think of what Naomi is going through. Everyone’s heard of psych holds. Britney Spears, regular people, then the law allowing hospitals in New Jersey to indefinitely extend the seventy-two hours if a bed can’t be found in a psychiatric establishment. It’s such a horrible thought and concept, nobody in their right mind would stop to ponder what happens when such a thing takes place. Frustration, denial, drugging, abuse… I can’t! It’ll just make me want to kill someone, or everyone I encounter on the way to get to her.
Declan nods. “Okay. So, this is what you’ll have to do.”
