Blood Money: A Captive Romance (The Dirty Money Duet Book 2)

by BL Mute

I nod and open my mouth to reply, but sirens in the distance have us both going silent. Red and blue lights flash frantically in the dark sky, and it makes me worry we’re too late.

  I snatch the gun from where Cyrus tucked it in his pants and push him away. “Go!”

  He stares at me for a moment, and I can tell he doesn’t want to leave, but I’m not giving him a choice. “Carmen—”

  “Go!” I yell again, looking over my shoulder to see if the lights are any closer.

  His nostrils flare, and I know he isn’t happy, but we’re out of time to argue now. He steps forward and grabs my face. Pressing his lips to mine, he whispers against them. “I’ll come back for you.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut, telling myself not to let my emotions get the best of me. “I know.”

  Quickly, I use my shirt to wipe down every piece of the gun I can, hoping it’s enough.

  With that, he lets go, picks up his discarded shirt from the ground, and turns away, disappearing into the night.

  I watch him fade the further he goes until he’s completely out of sight, and then I lose it. Dropping to my knees, I let the gun fall from my shirt and release every emotion I’ve been holding back. Sobs rack my body as I melt into the muddy ground.

  The sirens get closer, and red and blue lights bounce off the glass windows of the greenhouse, but I don’t move. I’m locked in the fetal position on the ground until someone squats beside me.

  Pushing the gun out of my reach, an older woman with short brown hair places a hand on my shoulder. Rain beads off the brim of her hat, almost creating a curtain that shields her face, but I can still see the genuine concern in her eyes. “Ma’am? Are you hurt?”

  Yes, I want to say, but it’s not in a way they could fix. In a matter of minutes, I’ve lost more than I can even comprehend, so I shake my head.

  “Chief!” someone yells from the greenhouse, and her eyes snap from mine. “We have two fatalities.”

  Her gaze moves back to me. “I need you to tell me what happened.” Her voice is calm and smooth.

  I nod and force myself to sit up. She gives me a moment, then stands and extends her hand to me. Taking it, she helps me to my feet, then leads me to her car. As she opens the door, I look around and notice more cop cars and an ambulance pulling up.

  “Have a seat. I’m going to grab you a blanket.”

  I tuck myself into the back of her car and wrap my arms around my center. Within seconds, she’s back and wrapping an itchy gray blanket around my shoulders.

  “They’re dead,” I mumble.

  “Who are they?”

  “My dad and our butler,” I choke out, feeling it would be best to leave out the whole truth.

  “Do you know what happened?” she asks again, this time a little firmer but still calm.

  I bite my lip and look over her head into the distance. “I came home and found my dad standing over William, our butler…” I bring my eyes back to hers. “He was going to kill me.” My lip wobbles.

  Her lips turn down in a frown as her eyebrows pull together. “Did he do this?” she asks, brushing my hair behind my shoulder and revealing the light bruising on my neck.

  I nod and turn into myself, squeezing my arms around my center harder.

  She rubs my knee gently. “Okay. I’m going to have the EMTs take you to get checked out while we process the scene.”

  I nod again but stay silent. I’m already lying while high on adrenaline and shock. I don’t trust myself to say anything else without giving myself away. Or worse, Cyrus.

  She walks over to the ambulance and talks to the paramedics for a moment before coming back to where I sit with one of them in tow and another officer. “This is Tony. He’s going to make sure you get to the hospital safely, okay?”

  Safely. I know better. They already consider me a suspect and don’t want me running, but it’s fine. I just need to keep my cool and stick with my story. I refuse to let all of this be without reason. When I said everything ends tonight, I meant it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CARMEN

  “We’re going to take some samples from your body, but we will need your clothes too,” a nurse says as we get back into a room. “Here is a gown you can put on and a bag for your clothes.”

  I nod and wait for her to leave the room so I can undress.

  As soon as the door clicks closed behind her, I drop the bag and gown she gave me on the bed and rush to the phone plugged in next to it. Dialing Lydia’s number, I bring it to my ear. The plastic is cold against my face, and the smell of antiseptic overwhelms my nostrils, making my stomach turn.

  I shake it away, praying she answers as I watch the door to make sure no one catches me. At this point, they haven’t said I’m a suspect, but I know how this shit works.

  “Hello?”

  Lydia’s voice has me releasing the breath I didn’t know I was holding. “911. I’m okay, but I’m at the hospital.”

  “What? What happened?” Concern has her voice screeching.

  “Just get here. I need your help.” I hang up before she can ask any more questions. Right now, I can’t risk talking to anyone unless it’s in person.

  I lay the phone back down on the bedside table and start to strip. Starting with my shoes, I slip them from my feet and put them in the clear plastic bag. As I lift my shirt, it pulls my skin. Dried blood has it sticking to me, and it does nothing but make me feel even more nauseous. Once it’s finally off, I slip out of my shorts and throw them in the bag too, then slip the gown on backward so I can tie it in the front.

  Once it’s secured, there is a soft knock on the door before it opens. “Miss Shultz,” the same nurse from earlier starts as she walks in pushing a cart with a man following. “This is Dr. Sullivan. He’ll be getting the samples from your body and examining you to make sure you’re okay.”

  I nod and perch myself on the edge of the bed. “Will I be able to shower afterwards?”

  “Yes.”

  Thank fuck.

  “We’re going to start with your hair, okay?” The old man walks toward me as he puts on his gloves.

  I nod again. It’s not like I can say no; it would make me look guilty, and that’s definitely not what I want at this point.

  He picks up a black plastic comb from the cart, along with a manilla envelope. He slowly brushes through my brown locks, holding the envelope under each section to catch anything that may come out. It snags in the tangles a few times, but I grind my teeth and focus on the nurse watching intently beside us instead of the pain.

  Once he finishes, he seals the envelope and hands it to the nurse, who places it in an evidence bag. “Next, I need to take some swabs from your body. Every place blood may have touched you.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut. Getting naked for an old doctor wasn’t on my agenda today, but then again, none of this was. I stand from the bed and untie the gown, revealing myself to him and the nurse. The air is cold as it hits my skin, but the cotton swaps covered in whatever liquid he’s drenched them in are even colder.

  He swabs around my chest, then moves to my stomach with a new Q-Tip, then down to my legs. “I need to do your feet now. Take a seat and lift one at a time.”

  I do as he says, not surprised to see the soles of my feet are stained with blood. The rain washed it from my skin, then slid down my body and into my shoes. After he’s finished, I turn around and let him repeat the same process for the back of me. When he’s done, I sit back on the edge of the bed.

  The nurse puts each swab into its own vile, then places them in a different manilla envelope. “The last thing we need to do is a GSR test on your hands.”

  He pulls out something that almost looks like a stamp as I tie my gown back around me. Just a small round plastic piece that’s smaller than a bottle cap, but a little taller. I extend both my hands out, and he starts pressing it along my skin, going all the way to my wrist.

  “That’s it. I’ll let you get cleaned up and come back later for your exam.” He
smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

  I stay silent as the nurse pulls a couple of towels from the cart and hands them to me. Silence seems to be my best friend at this point until I figure out a solid plan to make my story believable.

  “You can shower now. Just leave the towels in the basket there, and I’ll collect them later,” she says with a flick of her wrist toward the basket she mentioned.

  Another nod is all I give them as they exit the room, pulling the cart with them.

  As the door closes, I stand from the bed again and head straight to the bathroom. The floor is sloped in the center with a drain. The toilet is to the left and the shower to the right with no curtain. Normally, I’d stick it out, wait till I was home and could shower with my own things where I’m comfortable, but there is no telling how long they will try and keep me here. I set the towel on the small counter, where there is a fresh gown, then slip the one from my body. Walking across the cold tile, I position myself under the showerhead and turn it on. The burst of cold water only lasts a few seconds before it’s warmer and inviting.

  I rinse my hair, then run my hands along every inch of my body, hoping it gets everything off me. The small bottle of shampoo in the nook under the knobs won’t do much, but it’ll be enough for now. I use a quarter-sized drop in my hair, then the rest to scrub my skin. Once the water starts to run clear, I turn it off and wring out my hair.

  I walk back to the counter and grab the towel, then wipe it along my wet skin. It’s coarse and itchy and makes every nerve in my body scream. Once I’m dry, I place the new gown on and leave the bathroom with the old gown and towel in hand.

  As I place it in the basket, the door creeps open. Lydia looks around frantically until her eyes land on me. I can see the relief wash through her body. “Fuck, Carmen!” she squeals, rushing to me.

  She places her hands on my shoulders, then rakes her eyes over me. “I’m fine, I promise,” I lie to her.

  Truth is, I’m fine physically but not mentally. I just witnessed the man I thought to be my father killed and the man who was my father dead, but I need to keep my cool. This isn’t over yet.

  “Are you sure?” she quizzes.

  She knows the answer, but she wants me to say it. Lydia has always been able to see right through me. “I just need help.”

  She looks over her shoulder, then brings her finger to her lips. “You have a friend outside, so watch what you say.”

  I suck in a breath. “Yep. That’s Tony. I don’t think he’ll be leaving that post for a while.”

  She steps closer and leans into my side. “Cut the details and just tell me what you need.”

  “A lawyer.”

  She rears back and looks at me with wide eyes. “What did you do, Carmen?” she whispers.

  I shake my head. “Nothing, but it doesn’t look that way.”

  She stares at me a moment like she’s contemplating what to do. “I—” She cuts herself off and brings her hand to her mouth to bite her nails and looks down.

  “It’s Alexander. Cyrus did it because he killed William, but no one can know that. You’ve done this before. You’ve covered up an entire murder to save Carter, so help me. Please,” I beg.

  Her eyes snap back to me. “William?” I can see the agony tracing her features.

  Everyone loved William. He was caring and sweet. And he was my dad… but I’ll never get to talk to him about that. He’s gone, and there is no turning back time.

  “Don’t make me focus on that right now. I can’t handle it.” My words come out choked and weak.

  As tears well in her eyes, she pulls me into a hug. “The pain never goes away, but it does get easier. Some days, you’ll wake up and it will feel like there is a knife in your heart, and other days, it’s just a distant throb.”

  I wrap my arms around her waist and squeeze. I never would have thought our roles would be reversed. It was less than two years ago that it was me trying to comfort her and be strong while she mourned her dad, but here we are. I did all the shit she warned me not to and got myself in this position, and I can’t help but think the only reason William is gone is because of me. That adds a new layer of pain I don’t feel will ever go away.

  “How long until the knife part goes away? Because it hurts so bad.” I sob. I can’t even control it anymore. The dam breaks, and all my sadness spills out.

  “Weeks, months, maybe years. There is no telling. You just have to remember it does get easier. And until then, you have me to hold you and tell you everything is going to be okay.”

  “What if it isn’t you I want holding me?” I ask on a whisper.

  She pulls away and looks me in my eyes. “Do you love him?”

  Her question catches me off guard. It’s the same thing I asked her when she came to me for help to get her and Carter away from Mac’s wrath. “Love is a strong word.” I echo the same thing I told Cyrus not long ago. “But I think it could lead to that. Maybe? He makes me feel seen, Lydia. Like I’m not alone because he’s just as complicated and messy.”

  “Then let’s figure this out. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

  I give her a small smile. “Thank you.”

  “You know I can’t tell you no. You helped me when I was at my lowest. This is just me returning the favor the only way I can.”

  I open my mouth to speak, but the door opens, cutting me off. “Miss Shultz, let’s get you checked out so you can get out of here,” Dr. Sullivan says, walking inside with the nurse in tow.

  I grab Lydia’s hand and give it a squeeze as I wipe the tears from my cheeks. “Just find a good lawyer. I won’t say anything until then,” I whisper.

  She nods and squeezes my hand back before dropping it and walking out the door.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CYRUS

  Seeing her break as I just stood and watched was the hardest thing I think I’ve ever had to do, but she told me to go—told me not to look back—but it isn’t looking back if I never left, is it? I understand her eagerness to fix this and clean up the mess I made, but I refuse to let her do it alone. Sliding my phone from my pocket, I dial a number I hope to never see again after this.

  It rings a couple of times before he finally answers. “Carmen?”

  I close my eyes and take a deep breath. The desperation in his voice makes me remember how much he actually cares about her and why I’m even doing this in the first place. “No. She’s in trouble, and I need help.”

  The line goes silent for a beat. “Can you meet me at my place?”

  “I don’t have wheels. I left my car with my brother, and the cops are all over Carmen’s place, so I can’t take hers.”

  “Cops? What happened?”

  “Can you meet me somewhere or what, Bradley? Because time is fucking sensitive right now,” I snap.

  He scoffs. “Fine, but only because she needs help. Not you.”

  “She’s all I’m worried about, but I need you to do something first.” When he stays silent, I take it as my cue to continue. “The cameras at her place. Can you wipe them?”

  “If you’re trying to hide something, wiping them wouldn’t be the best thing. I can hack the security company’s system and put them on a loop though. It’ll keep anyone who sees them from asking questions.”

  “How long will it take?” I ask, still watching from the line of trees next to her house as the cops finally make their way inside.

  “Depends on how good their system is, but let’s say maybe thirty minutes. I’m good at what I do.”

  “And what if they’re unplugged from the house before then? Will it still work?”

  “If the data is collected wirelessly and stored at the company’s location, then yes. But if it’s stored on something like a SIM card, I won’t be able to do shit unless it’s plugged in and running.”

  I nod. “Then let’s hope it’s wireless because the cops just went inside, and I’m sure that’s the first thing they’ll be looking into. Call me if you run into any prob
lems.”

  I go to hang up, but his voice stops me. “What about Ghost? Shouldn’t we only talk about this shit in person?”

  “Ghost is gone. That’s all you need to know right now.”

  “Okay… Where am I supposed to meet you when I finish this?”

  “I’ll let you know.” I end the call and shove my phone back in my pocket.

  Right now, there is only one place I can go, so I start walking.

  Carter’s place isn’t too far, but on foot it’s not very close either. When I’m almost there, the rain finally starts to slow, but I’m already drenched. With it being so late in the night, it’s chilly too. My teeth chatter from the cold, but I clamp them together, doing my best to make the sound stop. It’s too loud. Too intrusive in my brain, and it’s working my nerves.

  When Carter’s house comes into view, I feel a wave of relief. Even if he won’t see me, surely Lydia wouldn’t turn me away. Carmen is her best friend, after all, and she’ll want to know what’s going on.

  I walk all the way up the drive until I hit their front door. Tucking myself under the small overhang above the door, I give myself a minute to catch my breath, then knock. I can hear movement, but no one answers. When I knock again, Tiny barks, and it sounds close.

  “It’s just me, boy,” I say, trying to calm him down.

  Within a few seconds, he stops, and then the door slides open. Tucking my hands into the pockets of my jeans, I look at Carter as he stares at me. “Can I come in?”

  He looks behind me at the light rain falling before finally moving to the side and pushing the door open further. “What do you want?” His voice is short and clipped.

  Tiny moves to my legs, so I reach my hand down to pet him as I step inside, still keeping my eyes on Carter. “Is Lydia here? It’s about Carmen.”

  He shakes his head before crossing his arms over his chest. “She already left to go to the hospital. What’d you do to her?” I can hear a hint of anger in his voice.

  “Me? I didn’t do anything. Why would you even think that?”

  “Well, you had no qualms about leaving me—knowing I’d be hurt—so it wouldn’t surprise me at this point.” He shrugs.