A Billionaire's Mistake

47|Hurricane

Chapter Forty-Seven: Hurricane

Lincoln

Since that god awful night in Los Angeles when Sienna's world turned upside down, I've been doing everything in my power to try and find this fucker she unfortunately has to call her ex. I don't have much to offer other than my knowledge after a few years in college studying criminal justice. Archer is the one who graduated. Archer is the one who is an actual police officer. He gets to live the dream we both had at one point before I got sucked into taking over my father's business.

I don't have personal access to police records, but Archer does, and he was able to swipe the file on Travis. I'm not surprised that there's nothing recently reported. A twenty-six-year-old male with a documented jagged scar across his chin... But this version of him in his mugshot is a lot different from the version I saw of him that day of the conference. In his mugshot, he's freshly shaved with a head full of hair, but on that day he was bald, and the beard he grew covered up most of that scar, making it barely recognizable unless you got close to him. Smart.

This guy used to be a former Marine.

What the fuck?

I don't understand how a man who served our country could become so off the rails, but a part of me is actually glad he was in the service. This gives me an advantage as I know there's probably a full workup of his background that they must have done before he went in.

Rummaging quickly through the stack of papers, I breathe a sigh of relief when I see the Marine Corps symbol centered on one of the pages—his fingerprints and a list of known relatives included. Jackpot.

I stare at the cold-blooded gaze of Travis in his mugshot, the anger brewing deep down in my gut. If I catch him, he better hope it's not just the two of us. Without a shred of a doubt, without any hesitation, I'll kill him. Better yet, I'll tie him up and keep him stored somewhere and Sienna can tell me what to do to him. I want her to watch me tear this man apart piece by piece.

Reaching for my phone, I call the private investigator I've hired to look into Travis and his whereabouts. An ex-navy seal with ten years experience working in the secret service. He's worked with me plenty on pulling background checks on all the women my mother used to set me up with, so I wasn't afraid to ask him to help me with this. I know he'll be discreet.

"Good evening, sir." His husky voice echoes through the line, the sound of chatter and clinking dishes in the background. I glance behind me and realize that the sun has already set, and that it is, in fact, evening. He must be eating dinner.

"Sorry to bother you, Cal, I just had some names I'd like for you to take down for me. I need phone taps and pin registers on all of them. Immediately."

He clears his throat. "Sir, I don't really have that authority to—"

"You were in the secret service for ten years. If you can't do this, then I know for certain you know someone who can. I can ensure that you will be paid handsomely for your efforts, as well as the person you find capable enough for the job."

There's a long pause of silence. I hold my breath until he says, "Yes, sir. Will do."

Good choice.

"Perfect. Sorry to interrupt your night. We'll speak on Monday."

When we're off the phone, I notice that my entire staff seems to have gone home for the night. The overhead lights are shut off above the desks, just the backup generator low lights glowing about. Investigating Travis has taken up a lot of my time lately, but I get so engrossed in finding this fucker that time passes too quickly. I haven't even eaten dinner yet, but I've been waiting for Sienna to call. The last time we spoke she was heading over to her townhome to start packing up her things.