"I crept back down the stairs to the kitchen. I heard Jeremy's chair scoot back from the table, and then Harry call out to see who was there. I didn't hear the answer from the other side of the door, but I heard the door open. There was a man at the door. I could hear his voice but didn't see his face. I heard Harry clap him on the back and tell him it was good to see him. Tucker stepped into the kitchen doorway and told me it was safe to come out."
Tears flowed freely down her cheeks now.
"That's when Tucker's head exploded. I heard the soft sound of a silencer go off two times. Tucker's body was lying there. So much blood." Christy's hands shook as she retold the story.
"Jeremy shouted for me to run, and I heard the gun discharge again. I turned to run up the stairs. There was a rope ladder in my room for easy escape. When I got to the kitchen door, there was a Hispanic man blocking my way. One of the guys had been boiling water for his tea that he drank each night. I grabbed the pot of water and threw it in the man’s face. While he was distracted, I ran up the steps. I got to my room and shut and locked the door, and then scrambled out the window. Once I hit the ground, I ran into the woods. But before I got there, someone from the upstairs window shot me."
Christy's breathing was heavy, as if she were back there running for her life, and her eyes were unfocused, like she was seeing something the rest of them couldn't see.
"I was so scared. I fell to the ground, but I knew that they were there for me. To kill me. So I got up and took off again. I didn't stop for at least an hour. Thank God I've been running for years. And I knew my way around the woods. Not these, but I was familiar with how to navigate the terrain."
No one interrupted her story, as if asking questions right then would break the spell that Christy had cast on the room. They were all back there with her.
"I found a small cave near the water and dragged some brush across the ground to cover the opening. It was tiny. Barely big enough for me to fit inside. But by then, the bleeding was bad, and I knew I needed to try and staunch it. I tore part of my shirt off and pressed it tightly to my wound as I lay there waiting for them to find me.
"It was a couple of hours later when they finally caught up. They never saw the cave, but I could see them. There were three men with guns, all of Hispanic descent. A few minutes later, a man in jeans and a leather jacket came into view. He turned around, and I swore he saw me. He looked right at me, but he just turned around. Barked some orders at the guy about 'finding that bitch' and left."
"Who was it?" Sully asked, his voice breaking the spell.
"Haney."
"Andrew Haney?" Cate's voice ratcheted up a few octaves, and her hands shook. Andrew Haney had tried to rape Cate at a sex party and then sell her off to sex traffickers. She'd been beaten and tortured after he'd turned her over to them. Gabriel took her hand in his, from his perch on the couch's arm, and tucked it close to him. Cate visibly relaxed at his touch.
"The one and only."
"The General must be using him," Sully said. "Who else does he have in his employ?"
"From what I could tell during my time at the service, quite a few people. He's a master at learning how to use people's weaknesses against them. He collects their mistakes like wishes in a well. Then uses them when they least expect it."
"The Hispanic guys were Avila's guys. Gang members."
Christy shivered. "I've heard what they do to women. I sure am glad they didn't catch me."
"You were lucky. And smart. You'll be safer here than going back to another safe house. No one knows we have you, and no one is getting in that gate without us knowing," Sully said, turning to Zach. "Find out what you can on Haney. I want his sorry ass thrown into jail. He should have been locked up last time, when he attacked Cate."
Christy looked tired, and Maggie wondered how much longer they would keep her awake. Sully must have noticed, too.
"Thank you, Christy, for sharing what happened. I know it wasn't easy. We'll get Kingston, I promise you."
"Kingston? Charles Kingston?" Christy asked.
"Yes, we discovered that Kingston and The General were one and the same about three months ago, when he kidnapped Ella. We had just connected the dots when he took her," Gabriel answered.
"Kingston has been jerking us around since we were right out of high school. He was also responsible for Bruno Lopez, who killed my mom and attacked Isabel," Sully said.
"Wait, Bruno killed your mother?" Christy asked.
"Yes."
"And Kingston knew about it?" Christy asked.
"He did."
"Oh, no, it can't be," Christy said, her hands coming up to cover her mouth.
"What do you mean? What's going on?"
"Sully, Kingston was a client. He was my client for years. I thought you knew."
"Knew that he was your client? Cate told us that he was on the date that she went on with Haney. I knew that he had some connection with the escort service, and I knew that he was your investor."
Christy shook her head, sitting up so that she could drive home her story. "No. I mean, yes, he was on that date, and yes, he was the investor, but Kingston was my personal client for about four years when I first started. Way before he set me up with District Escort Service. Before he became secretary of state, when he'd just become a senator."
Maggie watched Christy, her face showing every emotion. Sully looked wary, and Maggie felt dread building inside her with each word that fell out of Christy's mouth.
"It was probably fifteen years ago. Kingston liked to talk. After our night together, he lay in the bed smoking a cigarette, and said something about Bruno taking care of a problem for him. A woman had tried to blackmail him. Bruno took care of her."
"You think that woman was my mother?" Sully asked, anger clouding his features.
Christy nodded. "But that's not all."
Maggie knew it was going to be bad. She just hadn't realized how bad.
"Spit it out, Christy," Sully growled.
"She had a son. Kingston's son."
Chapter 16
The sympathetic glances around the room were more than Sully could handle. Isabel's eyes welled with tears, Maggie looked as if someone had just kicked her dog, and the guys—well, they all looked like he'd told them he was sending them all back to the Middle East.
It was a freaking cluster—that's what it was.
"I'm sorry to drop the bomb that way. I hadn't put the pieces of the puzzle together, but I—" Christy started.
Sully held up his hand to stop her. "Let's take a break. I need to think."
Everyone stood up, watching him, waiting for the ticking time bomb to explode. In a way, that's kind of what he felt like. He'd explode at any moment.
So he did the only thing he knew to do when he was this troubled. He fought.
Sully took the stairs to the first floor, two at a time. He couldn't get to the shower rooms quickly enough. He kept clothes down there for this very reason. No one wanted to have to go get clothes from the third floor and then go back down to the first. When they wanted to blow off steam, they wanted instant access.
He'd had shower rooms and cubbies installed so they could keep their things next to the workout room and ring.
He had his eye on the bags today.
Stripping down to his underwear, he slid on a pair of athletic shorts, not bothering with a shirt, and marched out to the heavy bags. Gloves with his name on them sat on a shelf nearby. He strapped them on and punched his fists together.
Then he let the thoughts go.
Charles Kingston was his father.
The evil son of a bitch who'd had his mother killed, and his sister almost raped—who’d toyed with their lives for years, sold women into sex slavery, and had numerous men killed for his purposes. That was his biological father.
Strike.
He hit the bag with all his might.
Strike, strike.
In his mind, Sully knew that this didn't change who he was. He was sti
ll the same guy from thirty minutes ago. Just because his world had been turned on its head didn't mean that he was any different. Right?
Strike, strike, strike, strike.
Sully worked his way around the bag, hitting it as hard as he could. He tuned the world out and pummeled the heavy sack, his breath ripping from his lungs in whooshes, his ears pounding with the sound of the blood pumping in his head, and his fists growing numb with the force of his punches.
This man was his father. A man who had evil running through his veins. Sully shared his blood. Did he also share his mind? Could he be capable of the same things that Kingston had done?
His blood runs through my veins.
What if a switch flipped? What if one day, he woke up and was just like him?
But no, he couldn't. He would never hurt his brothers, his family, his sister. He would never hurt Maggie.
Maggie.
What would she think about him now? Why would she want a man like him, when she could have someone who was good and pure? How could she want him to be around her son when they found him?
Nothing had changed, and yet, it felt like everything had.
Charles Kingston was his father.
He'd killed Sully’s mother and allowed Bruno the opportunity to almost rape Sully's sister.
He was a monster.
And Sully shared his blood.
He wasn't sure how long he worked the bag. Finally, a hand touched his shoulder, and he whirled around, his fist drawn back to attack.
Ethan's hands flew up to block his face, and then he held them out in surrender.
"Man, you gotta stop," Ethan said, as Sully's breathing filled the gym.
"Why?" he asked, not understanding why Ethan was stopping him.
"You've been at that bag for an hour. You won't be able to lift your arms tonight."
As if coming awake from a dream, everything suddenly zoomed into focus. The weight of his arms, his ragged breathing, the sweat pouring off his body, the soreness in his hands.
Geez, he was really going to be messed up.
Sully swiped his forehead with the back of his glove, his arm shaking as he did.
Ethan clapped him on the shoulder. "Dude, it changes nothing."
Sully nodded. "I know that here," he said, pointing to his head.
"Well, you need to get it into your soul. That monster may have lent you his DNA, but that's it. You are nothing like him."
Shrugging off Ethan's comments, Sully walked back to the shower rooms. He'd need to sit in the hot tub for a while, or he'd be in no shape to even move in an hour. What had he been thinking?
Oh, yeah. He hadn't been. Well, not about his workout, anyway. All his thoughts had been consumed with the man who'd made him.
Sully took off his gloves and cringed. His hands were a bloody mess. His knuckles were bruised and raw from rubbing against the gloves. In his haste to start punching, he'd failed to wrap his hands before he'd started. Damn, that was going to hurt when the adrenaline wore off.
The hot tub soothed his tired muscles as he let his mind go blank. For a few minutes, he just wanted to feel the warm water and think of nothing. Several minutes later, he took a shower and put his clothes on, barely able to pull his t-shirt over his head.
He took the elevator up to his office, grateful for the contraption as his whole body was tired. When he rounded the corner to his office, a pink-haired vision sat in his chair.
Maggie's feet were propped up on his desk, and her arms were crossed over her chest. She looked…pissed.
Why the hell was she pissed at him?
Sully shut his door with more force than was necessary. Apparently, he was spoiling for a fight, even though he'd just fought an imaginary enemy for more than an hour.
"What do you want, Pixie?" he asked, cringing at the sharpness of his words. He didn't mean to be an ass. But come on. Give him at least a little break.
His tone was lost on her, as she kicked her feet down and stood to her full, five-foot-nothing height.
"Are you trying to kill yourself?" she asked, her eyes narrowed, and he swore that steam was coming out her ears.
"What are you talking about?"
"Ethan told me that you'd worked yourself into a trance down there, beating the shit out of a bag." Sully made a mental note to kick Ethan's ass. Later. When he could lift his arms again.
"Ethan needs to mind his damn business," Sully said, coming around the corner of his desk and hoping to intimidate the small fairy blocking his path to his chair.
She wasn't intimidated.
Instead, she jabbed her finger into his chest. Ouch. His chest hurt almost as much as his arms did.
"You need to stop forgetting that you aren't in this alone. There are people all around you ready to help carry this burden, Sully. And instead, you go off like a lone ranger, beating the crap out of an inanimate object and coming back looking like you just got the news that you have two weeks to live."
"I don't think you understand. My father is a ruthless bastard who killed my mother, had my sister attacked, shipped me and my friends off to different branches of the military—toying with our careers the entire time, kidnapped and sold women as sex slaves, and killed God only knows how many people in order to further his career. This is the man whose DNA I share."
"And yet you're nothing like him." Maggie reached up and took his face in her hands, barely able to reach. "You are everything that is good and kind. You love your friends and family fiercely. You've protected and rescued the innocent."
She stepped closer to him, gazing into his eyes, her own bright blue ones shimmering with tears. "You are his exact opposite."
Something in his chest released, and he breathed deeply for the first time in hours. He couldn't say he was good and kind. Maggie didn't know what he'd done as a Marine—the people he'd killed. Some of them innocent, he was sure.
But he did love his friends and his family. They were all his family, really. Ethan, Lucas, Gabriel, and Zach had all become his brothers, and their wives, his sisters. Isabel was about to give birth to his niece or nephew, and rumor had it that Lucas had knocked Scarlett up, too.
His family was growing. And he'd be damned if he was going to let Kingston get in his head and ruin their lives.
But she needed to know the whole truth.
Sully took a step back, his heart hammering in his chest. He wanted to keep her thinking good thoughts about him. But if they were going to have any future together, she needed to know him. All of him.
"Sit," he said quietly.
Confusion marred her brow.
"You said I was good and kind." She opened her mouth to protest, but he held up a hand. "I'm not. It's true that I love my family and friends. I agree with you there."
He dropped his head in his hands as he paced the floor.
"Two years before my mother died, I walked out of her apartment. I was angry. I was tired of her using her body to pay for food and clothes. I'd told her to stop. Told her I'd help. But she kept it up. Said I couldn't take care of her forever. She needed to make her own way. So I left."
Sully hated the next part. If only he'd stayed, his mom might not be dead, and Isabel might not have experienced such brutality at Bruno's hands.
"I tried to visit as much as possible, bringing Isabel fashion magazines or books or lip gloss whenever I came home. I wanted her to know that I hadn't forgotten her. But really, I was so glad that I wasn't living there anymore. That I'd escaped D-town in some ways. I was working as a waiter at a nice restaurant. I made a pretty decent salary, rented a room in a fairly nice apartment with another single guy. It wasn't anything fancy, but it was a far cry from what I'd grown up in.
"I was determined to make something of myself, and my visits back to Isabel and my mom became fewer and farther between. I didn't want to be reminded of that life.
"I hadn't planned on stopping by that night. I had just been by to see Izz a few days before and had brought her one of those magazines
she seemed to like so much. But I had been in the neighborhood to see some friends. I had this sudden need to go see Izz, to make sure she was ok."
Tears clogged Sully's throat as he remembered the scene he'd walked in on. Isabel on the bed, naked from the waist down. Bruno beating her with a belt, his pants pushed down around his knees.
"Bruno was there. He was about to rape Isabel. I beat him and only stopped when Isabel broke through my anger and told me to stop. If she hadn't been there, I would have killed him. I should have killed him.
“I didn't even stop to think afterwards. I took Isabel with me. My roommate told me that she could live there for a little while, and I started looking for apartments for the two of us. A week later, Raina, my mom's friend, called me. Mom had been found in the apartment, a bullet between her eyes. Bruno had killed her."
He let the tears fall. The whole day—finding out that Kingston was his father, and then reliving his past, his mother's death—had been too much. He swiped at the traitorous things on his face and felt Maggie's arms go around him.
"It wasn't your fault."
He pushed her away. "It was my fault. Don't you see? I left them there. Vulnerable. I should have taken my mother out of there, too. I never should have left Isabel in that house, knowing what kind of riffraff floated in and out."
"You were just a kid, Sully. Your mother was the adult. If anyone is to blame, it's her. She should have protected Izz. She should have listened to you. You were right, and you weren't responsible for your much younger sister. You saved her."
He wanted to believe it. Wanted to believe that he wasn't responsible for what had happened. But he'd lived too many years bearing this burden.
"Listen to me," Maggie said, gripping his face between her hands. “You need to get over yourself, Sully."
Sully reared back as if she'd slapped him. "Those people out there? Isabel? Your team? Me? We're counting on you. We're counting on you to pull us out of this mess. And we're here to help you. You didn't kill your mother. Bruno and Kingston did. You aren't responsible for Isabel's almost rape. Bruno and Kingston are."
Castle Investigations Box Set Page 112
