Tyrant (KING Book 2)

by T. M. Frazier

  They ignore.

  I preferred the fighting. Because at least then they were communicating on some level, even an angry and bitter one.

  My father smiles and walks up to me where I’m sitting on the edge of the pool in silence, while Nadine tries to raise the spirits of my classmates and friends. “Happy Birthday, Princess,” my father says, handing me the flowers.

  “For me?” I ask, pushing my bangs out of my eyes.

  “It’s your birthday isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, it is.” I sound as defeated as I feel.

  “You’re nine now, and that’s a big birthday. I was thinking of getting you another stuffed animal, but I figured that flowers would be a much more appropriate gift for a young lady like yourself.” My father stuck his nose inside the bouquet and inhaled, only to pull away abruptly to close his eyes and cough. I giggled. “People always say these things smell so good. To me they smell just awful.” My dad laughed when he saw my smile and handed me the bouquet. “But nonetheless they are for you, my sweet girl.” The green tissue paper is melting underneath my wet hand which isn’t big enough to fully circle the stems. The flowers tipped in my hand and my father caught them before they fell into the pool. He held them out to me and I pressed my face into the bouquet and inhaled like he had, but didn’t have the same reaction. I decided right then and there that roses were my new favorite smell.

  My new favorite thing ever.

  “Why do all the party goers look as if they just played pin the tail on the donkey and the donkey kicked them?” he asks, glancing over at the table where my friends sit in silence. I don’t want to tell him that Mom crashed my party in every way, but I don’t have to, because the sliding glass door opens and my mother walks out in a black bikini and floppy hat. She’s still holding a glass, except this one is full to the brim.

  “Margot,” my father says in a warning tone.

  “What?” she snaps loudly.

  My father stands and holds onto my mother’s elbow as he guides her back inside. His jaw is tight and I can tell that even though his mouth isn’t opening and closing that he is doing that thing where he talks through his teeth because his lips are moving.

  “FINE!” Comes a shout from inside the house followed by a crash. A few minutes pass and he hasn’t come back outside. I just gave up and was about to just tell my friends they should leave before things get worse when the door opens and my father comes running out of the house. Not in a suit. Not in a jacket. Not in a tie. Nope. My father. Senator to his very core. Was wearing long black swim trunks. And nothing else.

  Shirtless.

  My. FATHER. Shirtless.

  “CANNONBALL!” He shouts as he leaps off the edge of the pool and launches himself into the air, hugging his knees to his chest as he crashes into the water, sending water splashing over the edge like a tidal wave, completely soaking me and the picnic table where my friends sit in total shock.

  Followed by total laughter.

  “Now let’s see who has the best splash,” my father says, coming up for air and shaking the water from his black hair. “Nadine, you and I will be the judges. Winner gets extra cake!”

  “Mom said that we shouldn’t eat cake. Said it will make us fat.”

  “Well, your mother can…” He closes his mouth, takes a breath and starts over. “Your mother said that because she doesn’t like cake. But that’s her loss. Besides, everyone knows the calories from cake don’t count on a birthday. It’s like, basic science. Right guys?” he asks. My friends cheer and shout. Dad hoists himself up and let his feet dangle, as my friends line up one by one to showcase their best cannonball.

  “Ramie, you’re first. Now make it a good once. The Price Family is famous worldwide for their cannonball skills so don’t let me down!”

  I go first and emerge from the water to clapping and cheers. “See? Didn’t I tell you guys? It’s in her blood!”

  After the competition, my father’s assistant enters the backyard through the side gate and informs him of an upcoming teleconference that he is almost late for. With another “Happy Birthday” and a kiss on the top of my head, my father wraps a towel around his waist and is gone.

  I look over to the picnic table where my friends are happily shoveling cake into their mouths and arguing over who had the better splash. My roses are in the center of the table, an old grey paint bucket serving as a makeshift vase.

  It was the best day of my life and although he’d only been part of it for less than an hour, it was the best day with my dad I’d ever spent.

  Because that hour wasn’t about politics, values, campaigns, my mother, how we looked to the public, agendas…it was just about me and my birthday. “Your dad actually jumped in the pool!” Nikki exclaims, dumping a scoop of ice cream onto her third piece of cake.

  “I know,” I whisper, still not believing it myself. Unlike the other party-goers, only Nikki and Tanner know that this wasn’t normal behavior for my dad.

  “I wish my dad was more like yours,” said Stephanie, twirling a strand of her curly red hair in her fingers. “Because your dad’s the best.”

  I catch a glimpse from the side of the house of my father emerging from the garage in his standard uniform of suit and tie, but before he gets into the awaiting Town Car, he turns and our eyes meet. He waves and blows me a kiss. I catch it in the air and press it onto my cheek. He flashes me one last smile and wave before ducking into the car.

  “Yeah. My dad’s the best,” I agree. And on that day, in that moment, for the first time in my life, I’d meant it.

  “Ramie, wake up. Wake up!” I opened my eyes, but only one cooperated. The other was swollen shut. And although my head was still spinning, my vision finally focused in on my father, who was kneeling over me. I tried to lift my arms, but they wouldn’t separate. I gazed down to find them bound together in a weave of elaborate knots.

  “Dad?” I asked, still thinking I might be caught up in my memory. But as a drop of sweat beaded from his forehead and dripped onto my arm, I knew it was really him.

  “Who the hell did this to you, Ramie?” My father asked with genuine concern in his voice. He jostled my wrists around, trying to untie the impossible looking binding.

  I opened my mouth to speak again but my tongue felt heavy in my mouth, dry and thick. All I could manage was a few groans and grunts. “It’s going to be okay. I’m going to get you help.”

  I needed to warn him. To tell him about Nadine. “Tanner,” I croaked. “Tanner.”

  “Where is Tanner?” my father asked still pulling at the ropes. “He is the one who told me to come out here. He texted me, said there had been some sort of accident. I borrowed my secretary’s car and raced over here. And where is Samuel?” I was brought fully back into the present at the mention of my son’s name. I sat up and the room spun. “Dad, go find Sammy. Please. Don’t bother with me. Just go find my son!” I plead. My words coming out garbled but understandable.

  My father gave up on the knots at my wrists and snaked his arm around my shoulders. He lifted me up off the floor. It wasn’t until I was upright that I realized we were in the houseboat. “Dad, Sammy…because Tanner…Nadine,” I started again, but the series of names in no way formed the warning I was trying to relay.

  “What happened to Nadine?” my father asked still working at the ropes.

  “She’s dead. Tanner—”

  “What about me, Ray?” Tanner asked, entering through a large rusted hole in the side of the boat. In his hand was a shiny silver pistol with a long wide barrel and a black handle. “Are you talking about that slut Nadine?”

  It was aimed at us.

  “What did you do?” my father asked, sounding horrified. His face paled.

  “Turns out that bitch was keeping an eye out on your daughter for the fucking pedophile she is so obsessed with.” Tanner clucked his tongue. “Nothing to worry about now. Bitch got what was coming to her.”

  “Son, you don’t have to do this—” my father start
ed.

  Tanner laughed. “Son?” He waved the gun from side to side. “Ray doesn’t want me to be your son anymore.”

  “Watch your mouth, boy, and lower that pistol. Ray’s hurt. I’m taking her to the hospital. You and I can talk when we get back,” my father argued, his southern accent coming out in full force, which made me realize that in public he took great steps to hide it, but now, not concerned about pre planned speeches or impressing constituents, his drawl was much heavier and thicker than I remembered. He hadn’t lost his accent, he’d just been hiding it. “Step aside, Tanner.” My father took a step toward the door and I limped beside him. Tanner aimed his gun at the ceiling above our heads and fired off a shot which tore a skylight sized hole in the roof that rattled the houseboat, echoing in the small space, sending rust raining down around us.

  Tanner again took aim at us. “The only thing you’re going to do is set her down or you can watch as I kill her first.”

  My father didn’t budge. Instead he pulled me in closer to his side, my head resting on the shoulder of his suit jacket. “There is no need to do this,” my father started, his accent filtering out of his voice. His cool and calm political persona taking over. “You have a lot going on for you and a bright future ahead of you. You don’t want to throw it all away just because my daughter broke your heart.”

  “No, not just because she broke my heart, because she’s been toying with it since we were fucking kids!” Tanner took a few more steps into the room. He was in the kitchen area and we were facing him with our backs to the sliding glass door. “But she hasn’t left me. Not yet. I got to her just in time.” Tanner cocked the gun. “Now put her the fuck down, Senator. I won’t be repeating myself again.” Reluctantly, my father loosened his grip around me and gently set me back onto the floor. “Good, now step aside.” My father looked down at me and with a pained expression on his usually unreadable face. He took two steps to the side and raised his hands in the air.

  “I can help you, Tanner,” the senator offered. “Just like when you were sick and I got you help. I can do that for you again,” he said calmly. “I can help you.”

  Every movement of Tanner’s was jittery. With sweat pouring off his forehead, his white Polo shirt was wet and yellowed at the armpits. “You wanna help me? You can get the fuck out of my way,” Tanner screamed. “All I need is her!” He pointed his gun toward me and then back to my father.

  “How do you want me to do that?” the senator asked.

  A good negotiator asks more questions than he gives answers to…I remembered my father always saying.

  Tanner laughed and licked his bottom lip. Sucking it into his mouth he bit down on it and scrunched up his nose.

  “You can fucking die.”

  Chapter 30

  King

  The first thing I heard was a whimper. A small mewing coming from somewhere in the houseboat.

  Pup.

  I scanned the room, but I didn’t see her, my eyes instead landing on the senator, who was standing between the kitchen and the main room with his back toward me.

  I cracked my knuckles. “Where the fuck is she?”

  My answer was the resounding explosion of a gunshot that tore through the senator’s chest. His back exploded. Pieces of his suit along with flesh and blood splattered warm and wet against my clothes and skin. The senator fell backward onto the floor, his eyes rolled upward into his head as he gurgled and strained to breathe. Blood pooled in his mouth and spilled down the side his cheek.

  What the fuck?

  I looked up from the dying senator at my feet, to where the shot had come from. Standing in the kitchen—gun now aimed at me—was Tanner. The senator’s gold watch on his wrist. “You?”

  “You looking at this?” Tanner asked, holding up his wrist and gesturing to the watch. “Nice, right? The senator gave it to me last night after the party. A wedding gift for his new son-in-law.” Redness crept from his neck to his face. His eyes darted back to me and he pushed out the gun as he spoke. “But I guess it wasn’t as good as the gift you gave, Ray,” he spat.

  “Where the fuck is she?” I roared. I took a step toward him and he cocked the gun, stopping me in my tracks. “Tell me where she is now and I promise that when I kill you, I’ll make it quick.”

  “Sit fucking down and cuff yourself to the chair, and maybe I’ll tell you where she is.” He gestured to the single wooden chair in the center of the room.

  “Fuck you.”

  “Let me rephrase. Sit in that fucking chair and cuff yourself to it or I’ll shoot her just like I did her daddy. Only I think I’ll aim for her fucking head, seeing as that’s where all the trouble seems to be coming from,” Tanner said, an evil glint in his eye.

  I reluctantly did as he asked and sat on the chair. He tossed me a pair of cuffs. “To the chair. Behind your back.” I cuffed one hand and then the other, looping the chain through the back of the chair. Tanner circled around me and tightened the cuffs. “You know, I’m kind of glad the asshole I hired to kill you couldn’t do the fucking job I paid him to do, because how does the saying go? You want something done right—you have to kill it yourself.”

  “What’s your fucking play here?” I asked.

  “This isn’t a fucking game, asshole. This is my life. A life that you are trying to take from me. You didn’t think I was just going to step aside and let that happen now, did you? She’s supposed to be my wife.”

  “No she fucking isn’t,” I said, clicking the cuffs in place. It took all the self-control I didn’t know I had not to destroy the kid with my bare hands.

  “Yes, she fucking is! We said vows goddamn it!” Tanner stomped his foot on the floor and his face turned bright red. “I have her father’s fucking blessing!”

  He looked around my chair to the senator who lay lifeless on the floor. “Or…should I say, had.” Tanner smiled his toothpaste ad manic smile. His eyes were bloodshot and rimmed in red.

  I pulled on the cuffs, itching to damage him in any way I could but they didn’t budge.

  “Listen, you fucking amateur, there ain’t no way you’re getting out of this without feeling blowback from someone. Even if you kill me and her, you don’t get out of this clean.”

  “Me? I’m not getting away with anything. I’m just the son-in-law. I was just as shocked as everyone else to hear about the senator’s murder.” He exaggerated his surprise with his hand over his mouth. “But I was also so glad to hear that the man who killed him, Brantley King, the criminal with a rap sheet longer than a football field, was also found dead.”

  “Clever,” I said sarcastically.

  “Shut your fucking mouth!” he spat, shaking the gun at me.

  “Where the fuck is she?” I asked, again.

  His smiled returned. Tanner walked over to the closet and opened the door. Out tumbled a mess of white-blonde hair streaked in red. She was tied to a small white patio chair. She crashed onto the floor with a hollow thud. My heart seized when I didn’t see her move, but started back up again when a few strands of her hair that had fallen into her face were pushed away when she exhaled.

  She was alive.

  And so was my resolve to kill this motherfucker.

  “If you somehow come out of this alive, I assure you, you won’t be that way for long. I may be alone now, but there are people out there. They know where I am,” I warned.

  “Yes, but who do they think you are meeting?” Tanner laughed. “They think you’re meeting the senator, right? So, when I crawl out of here they’ll easily believe what I tell them to believe, because it’s what YOU had believed. You barged in here. Had a fight with the senator. Guns were fired. People died. That’s all she wrote.”

  He leaned down and pushed the hair out of her face, kissing her on the lips. She stirred and my heart leapt. It was killing me that I couldn’t help her. I wanted to carry her out of there and put a bullet in this kid’s brain. “What’s going…?” she started to ask. Her eyes opened and landed on Tanner. She j
umped like she’d been doused with ice water, but bound to her own chair, both legs and wrists, she couldn’t get more than an inch or two as she tried desperately to scoot across the floor and away from Tanner. He picked up her overturned chair and set her a few feet in front of me so she was facing me. She was close enough to where if I reached out to her, I could put a hand on her leg. If I had use of my arms.

  “Ssshhhhh darling,” Tanner said, running the barrel of his gun down her cheek. “I’m here. Your husband is here. Everything is going to be okay, now.”

  “Tanner. No. I have to go. I have to go get…” She stumbled over her words, clearly confused from whatever damage Tanner had inflicted. Tanner grabbed her chin and forced her head up.

  “This who you’re looking for, dear?” he asked, rubbing his nose against her cheek.

  Doe’s eyes seemed to finally focus, and when they did and they landed on me, her eyes widened in surprise and she gasped. She struggled against her restraints but it was useless. Surprisingly, Tanner released her bindings.

  “Kneel,” he hissed.

  “Please. Don’t do this. Let’s talk okay? You and me. Let him go. He has nothing to do with this anyway and we’ll go for a walk like we used to do and talk.”

  “The time for talking is over. I am so fucking tired of all the fucking talking!” he screamed in her face. “KNEEL!” he ordered again. This time she complied, looking straight out at me.

  I’m sorry, she mouthed to me.

  I wish I could tell her this wasn’t her fault. This was my fault. It all was. But I was so fucking tired of blaming myself for everything that happened. So instead I focused on not losing hope. I focused on what it would feel like to squeeze the last breath from Tanner’s lungs.

  “Don’t fucking touch her,” I roared.

  “Do you think she really wants a white trash piece of shit like you? She’s confused. She doesn’t know what she wants. The only reason she was even with you was because she had a brain injury.” Tanner’s eyes glazed over. “She’s my WIFE. We’re finally going to be the family we were always supposed to be…” Tanner trailed off.