There was a beep, indicating I had another call and I pulled the phone from my ear to see the screen read private number. My heart rate picked up as I stared at it.
"I have to go, Maddix. See you soon."
I swallowed before pressing the green button. " Hello?"
"Hey… It's me."
Blood rushed to my ears, but I forced even breaths and my voice to remain calm. "Hey little brother… How are you?"
Kevin cleared his throat and paused before replying. "Is there something you needed?"
"Yeah," I said, bitterness seeping into my tone. "I'm in a bit of trouble."
"I can't come back. I'm sorry if that's what you're going to ask."
I took a deep breath and rested an elbow on the desk. "I know, Kev… I just uh. I need you to tell me if you remember someone that worked for you. James Williams."
Kevin paused. "James Williams?"
"Yeah."
"Doesn't ring a bell."
My breath caught and I swear my heart stopped for a few moments. Laila really had lied to me. For days I'd been trying to track down some asshole who didn't exist. It hadn't exactly come as a surprise, but the news still had the same devastating effect. I'd have to tell Dravin, and then I'd have to put a bullet in her head. Shit.
"You're sure?" I finally managed once I'd gotten a breath.
"I mean I've had a lot of people work for me, but the name doesn't stand out. What's going on?"
I leaned back in my chair and ran a hand through my hair. "There's an ongoing investigation, and a fuckin' rat leaking to law enforcement. James Williams was the best lead I had, and I'm pretty sure he's a fake. I just needed to verify with you."
"Oh, shit," Kevin said. His voice carried more empathy than it previously had. "Does Dad know?"
"Oh, he knows," I gritted and flicked my eyes to the door as if Dravin would suddenly appear. "Don't worry about it, though. I'm handling it, I just needed to verify that name. Take care of your family."
My tone turned serious when I spoke my last sentence, and I hope he picked up on the underlying meaning. I knew about my niece, and I very much wish he'd told me about her himself. With the way he paused and sighed into the phone, I'd say he picked it up just fine.
"I didn't know if you'd want me to call you."
"Of course I wanted you to call me!" I said, a bit too heated. I took a deep breath and rolled my neck until I'd relaxed. "Kev, you're my brother… I know with what happened there might be some tension, but—"
Kevin's dry laugh froze the words on my tongue. "Jake, you ordered me to kill my wife."
"I didn't know what she meant to you. I mean, Jesus, she attacked a top-ranking employee in my home."
"She was defending a girl being beaten."
"It didn't matter. Actions have consequences, and she was a slave at the time. You fucking know how that made both of us look."
Kevin huffed. "Right… And Jake Cryson couldn't possibly look weak. No matter what it costs anyone else."
My irritation dissipated as that damn unwanted memory came to mind. Kevin had a point. No matter how much I wanted to deny it.
"I'm sorry," I said, deflating into the chair. "I fucked up. I know I did."
Kevin didn't respond and my mind swam, searching for the right words to say. I really did see his wife as my family, regardless of the past. But how would Kevin know? Even worse, what if he didn't feel the same way about me?
"Your family is my family. You're always going to be my brother, Kev. It doesn't matter what happens or how weak it makes me look."
I don't think he realized how much I meant that last statement. My position would be given back to me in a heartbeat if I'd only turned the blame on him. He'd fucked up. He'd left evidence for police to find and left the company in shambles. I was the only one who knew it. As far as Dravin and my father were concerned, Laila's investigation revolved around me. Kevin had simply "gotten tired of working for me" and ran off. My father still expected him to come back and run his own branch.
"I gotta go, Jake. I'm sorry to hear about the investigation."
The line went dead before I had a chance to say anything further, and I threw the phone across the room in frustration. I rested my elbows on the desk and leaned into my palms.
Everything was so messed up. I couldn't even think straight. My mind kept switching between concentrating on what to do with Laila to concentrating on how to fix things with my brother. I wanted to know my niece, or at least be sent the Christmas card once a year. And Laila… I still didn't know what I wanted with her, but it sure as hell wasn't death. The image of Laila's corpse and lifeless eyes twisted my stomach, and my brain searched for possible alternatives… Nothing.
I took a shaky breath and sobered as I spotted something on the credit card statement beneath my elbow. I lifted the piece of paper and held it in front of my face. There was a charge at a country club. Harvington Country Club, which happened to be incredibly exclusive. Did Laila play golf?
I thought back to when we'd emptied her apartment. There weren't any golf clubs that I could remember. No photos of her golfing on social media. No mention of it in any of our conversations.
I scanned the statement and spotted another charge for the same amount two weeks later. The charge was about how much it would cost for two drinks.
Holy shit.
I stood and crossed the room where my phone had landed. After dialing my PI's number, I pressed the phone to my ear and waited. My gaze wouldn’t move from the piece of paper. I stared at it as if it were treasure. It held the answer to the mole's identity this entire time.
"Mr. Cryson," the voice on the other end of the line answered.
"I need you to get me surveillance footage from Harvington Country Club's bar for two different dates."
Laila
I'd searched Jake's bedroom the entire day. Every drawer had been gone through, every box from the top of his closet had been opened. Apart from a few photographs and a treasure chest of whips and restraints, I hadn't found anything interesting. There was absolutely nothing in this room that told me who Jake was.
I huffed on the floor of the closet and crossed my arms over my knees. I don't know why it mattered so much to me. Maybe it was the investigation or maybe just my own curiosity. Whatever the case, it was frustrating as hell.
I perked up as the door to the room creaked and footsteps neared the closet. Jake's photographs still sat in a pile beside me, and Rita's eyebrows raised as she spotted them. She had tonight's dinner and a water bottle in her hand.
"What on Earth, child?"
"Who is this?" I asked, holding up one of the photos. Some of them I knew were his siblings by the way the three of them gathered around. From what I could deduce, Jake was the middle child, and Kevin was the youngest. There was an older brother who I noticed had Jake’s hard look, but resembled Kevin in other ways. Their crystal-blue eyes contrasted Jake’s fern-green, and Jake’s hair was a darker color.
The thing that made me most curious was a black and white photo of a woman who didn't appear in any of the other pictures. I held it up to Rita only for her to snatch it.
"You shouldn't touch things that aren't yours. Come on, get out of there." Rita backed up and gestured for me to come with her. I didn't budge. I don't know why I was being such a brat today, but it might've been one of the last I had, so what the hell. Might as well do what I wanted. Rita's shoulders slumped and she sighed when I didn't move.
"Why are you so loyal to him?" I asked. "Do you have any idea how he pays for this mansion? Or how he pays you."
Rita set the plate and water on the dresser and narrowed her eyes as she took a few steps toward me. I almost scooted away from her as I took in her angry expression, even though I knew I could take this woman out easily. Hell, if the guards didn't all have Tasers and guns, I might've even tried my luck with them.
Rita scooped up the pictures that sat beside me and tucked them into the box I'd taken them from. She mumbled someth
ing in Spanish as she did.
"Is she his mom?" I asked, referring to the photo she'd taken from my hand. I wish it hadn't been black and white so I could've seen the color of her eyes and hair. That would've been a dead giveaway if they'd matched.
She froze with her hand still touching the top shelf. Both of our heads snapped to the door of the closet as footsteps sounded. Jake appeared in the doorway with a passive expression.
He turned to Rita. "Hay algo mal?"
"No, Senor. La chica solo queria una camis nueva."
I stared blankly at both of them as they spoke. Damn, I should've paid closer attention in introductory Spanish.
Jake nodded at Rita before taking a step into the closet and pulling a T-shirt out of the dresser drawer. I caught the shirt as he tossed it to me, and I studied it in my hands.
"That's what you wanted, yes?"
My eyes darted from him to Rita. "Yeah… thanks."
His eyes moved to Rita. "Puedes irte."
She took one last look at me before nodding and leaving the room.
I still hadn't made a move with the shirt. Obviously, Rita had attempted to cover for me, but we both knew I wasn't just getting some clothes. I still sat on the ground with his once perfectly spaced clothes rack pushed to one side.
He scanned the closet and shook his head. "Find anything interesting?"
"Hardly."
I wanted to bring up the photo but thought better of it. I’d probably pushed my luck enough for the day. His face was still impassive. There weren't any traces of anger in his expression, but it was almost more terrifying that way. Something seemed off.
"Is everything okay?" I asked, standing and taking a step toward him. Anxiety coursed through my veins as he made no attempt to reassure me.
"Do you golf?"
"What?" I asked, tilting my head. His stare pierced me, making me feel smaller than I really was. He didn't say anything else. He just waited for the meaning of his words to register with me. And then it did.
My eyes widened, and I took a step back. "Jake—"
"You lied to me," he stated as he stepped toward me. I backed into the wall of the closet, and he stood a foot away, not touching me but also not giving me a chance to run.
"Please," I whispered, waiting for him to strike. I suppose I'd known it was coming. I shouldn't have been surprised, yet somehow I was. Somehow, a part of me didn't think he was capable of murdering me.
"This is happening, detective. Soon. Obviously I can't trust you to be in my room anymore, so you're going to need to wait in the basement."
"Wait for what?" I asked, the emotion beginning to bubble up my throat.
"For me to go through the security footage of your meeting with the mole. Unless you want to make it easier for both of us and just give it up now?"
I shook my head and wrapped my arms around Jake's waist while pressing my face to his chest. He didn't wrap his arms around me. Instead, he pushed on my shoulders until I backed up.
"I'll have a guard escort you down. Don't fight and you won't be harmed."
He turned to walk away, and I grabbed onto the arm of his suit jacket. "Jake, please. You don't have to do this."
"Yes I do." He shrugged me off and continued out of the closet.
17
Jake
"Morning, Rita," I said as I sauntered into the kitchen. Rita was busy making coffee and didn't look at me. I yawned and stretched my arms over my head as I waited for it to brew. It was six in the morning, and I barely functioned without coffee until around seven.
Rita still hadn't glanced at me as she grabbed a cup from the cabinet and slammed it down beside me. My eyebrow quirked. "Something wrong?"
"Why is Laila in the dungeon?"
I wiped some of the sleep from my eyes and forced myself to be more alert. She’d used Laila's name, which even in my tired state I found odd. I hadn't told her Laila's name.
"Don't call it a dungeon. You make me sound like a medieval king."
"Jacob," she snapped. Her eyes narrowed and I suddenly felt like a kid again. "I have stood by your side for many years. In all that time I've trusted your judgment."
"What are you saying, Rita? You don't trust me now?"
She didn't answer. Instead, she picked the cup back up and poured hot coffee into it before handing it to me. The cup was so hot it almost burned my hand before I had the chance to set it down. Anxiety stung as I waited for Rita to tell me whatever was on her mind. I had the feeling I wouldn't like it. She acted as if I'd broken a piece of fine china.
Rita leaned back against the counter and folded her arms in front of her. "I'm not saying I don't trust your judgment now, but I want to offer you a piece of advice and I want you to take it."
"Okay?"
"Get out. Cut the girl lose, pack a bag, and run. Go find your brother and be with family."
I held a hand up to cut her off. "That's enough."
Rita lifted off the counter and took a step toward me. "Your father has no loyalty to you, Jacob! Stop trying to earn it and cut your losses."
My jaw clenched and eyes widened. "I said that's enough." My voice was laced with venom and Rita backed off. She'd gone too far and she knew it. She stared off into space and neither of us spoke for several moments.
"I'll fix breakfast for the girl," she mumbled as she opened the fridge.
I sighed and tilted my head back. Rita had my best intentions in mind. She always did. If there was ever a woman who could question me, it was her. I still didn't like it. This was more than just a job to me. It was my legacy. I'd been born a Cryson and I would die a Cryson. I wasn't fucking running from it because of a few hiccups.
"Leave it on the counter. I'll take it down to her in just a bit."
I pushed off the counter with the intention of heading back to my room so that I could shower and shave, but something stopped me before I could leave the kitchen. I sighed before glancing over my shoulder to take in Rita's disappointed composure. "It's going to be okay, Rita. You know that, right?"
She looked up at me with sad eyes. "Of course, Jacob." There wasn’t an ounce of sincerity in her voice, and she returned to pouring pancake batter into a bowl.
I bit my lip and continued on toward the bedroom. When I got there, yet another person waited to speak to me. It was way too early in the morning for all the women in my life to bring me their concerns.
"Morning, Isabella."
"Did you put Laila in the chamber?"
"Basement. It's a freaking basement." I opened the door to my bedroom and passed Isabella. Why did everyone insist on being so melodramatic? It was a room downstairs with a few instruments and suggestive furniture. There wasn't even a cell.
"Why would you put her down there?" Isabella followed me into the room. Genuine worry lingered in her tone, and I turned to see that same worry written all over her face. I didn't think Isabella gave a shit about Laila.
"What does it matter?"
Her eyes softened, and she took a step toward me. "I want this to be over… I want you in charge again."
Isabella's emotion softened my irritation, and I sighed. "Don't worry," I said, reaching out and brushing her hair over her shoulder. "It's almost over. My PI should be sending surveillance footage of Laila's meeting with the mole any time now. As soon as I have it, Dravin goes and things will return to normal."
I felt for Isabella. She'd been an obedient slave all these years, and the past month had taken a real toll on her. It wasn't easy to always answer to someone else, especially for someone so strong-willed such as Isabella. Her strength was why I’d chosen her as a slave. I couldn't stand to be around a broken woman.
"Okay," Isabella said, subtly stepping back out of my reach. "I'm glad it'll be over soon." She forced a smile. "I'll, um, let you get to it then."
Isabella turned and left. Okay then. Shaking my head, I headed for the bathroom to take a shower.
Laila
My body swayed as I drifted in and out of conscious
ness. The muscles in my arms ached, and my legs cramped from trying to stand on my toes for so long. I groaned past the gag and lifted my head to stare at the chains they'd secured my wrists in. Well, as it turned out things could've indeed been worse. I found myself grateful for the comfort of Jake's bed the past week and craved to go back to yesterday. I would've carried on with my plan to make him fall for me, even as it hurt, instead of going through all his things and pushing him away. Now, I really was fucked.
My neck straightened as footsteps echoed on the stairs. I was torn between being relieved that this would soon be over and being terrified of anyone coming down here.
The metal door opened and Jake appeared. I moaned past the gag and writhed against the chains. Jake by himself in that tailored suit and sexy walk was a far better sight than Dravin. It wasn't the time. Jake was just coming to check on me, and I grew more eager as I spotted the plated pancakes and water bottle in his hand.
His brows pinched when he approached, and he gave a disapproving shake of his head. I stood still on my toes and held my breath. I wanted so desperately to win back his affection and get the hell out of there.
"Good morning," he said before setting the plate on the bench we'd had sex on. My cheeks flamed as I laid eyes on it. He stepped up to me and removed the gag. A string of saliva followed the cotton material to hang around my neck, but I had no care. I was just relieved to be able to relax my mouth again. Pain settled in my jaw, but it was so much better still.
"Good morning," I replied.
Jake sat on the bench and leaned back on his palms. He looked so sinister with his head tilted as he watched me in silence. No expression could be read on his face, but he seemed to be considering something.
I flicked my gaze to the water and back to him. "I'm thirsty," I croaked. My throat had become hoarse from screaming hours ago. It had been a waste as no one could hear me.
He stared at me a few more moments before rising to his feet and grabbing the water. He came close to me, closer than necessary, and pressed the bottle to my lips. I took large gulps before he pulled it back, but didn’t step away. The material of his suit brushed against me and his face was maybe six inches from mine.
Dethroned (Darker Places Book 3) Page 16
