by Gabrielle G.
“Look, Oliver knew we were coming today. He would never miss time with Aito. So I give you twenty-four hours before calling my guy. He might only be a PR asshole in your eyes, but he does know what he’s doing and can deal with any situation. I tell you something isn’t right. Oliver would never ditch Na and Aito. Ever.” That’s true. He would do anything for his son. Even if Oliver doesn’t want me the way I want him or if he regrets what happened between us, I won’t let him drown by himself. He might be more shaken up than I thought for him to miss his son visiting.
“Okay,” Mark says, “but let me at least check with Elaine’s parents. “Tessa, are you coming?”
“Of course. Lars, who’s the guy you’re talking about?” I ask, praying it’s the one I need to talk to.
“Dex Crawford. Have you heard of him?”
I glance at Mark, who gives me one of his mischievous smiles.
“Yes. As a matter of fact, I did.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
OLIVER
There are two women in front of me.
One is sad, depicted, looking at me with all the sorrow in her eyes, begging me not to die, to continue to live, to fight, and go on. I haven’t seen those sad eyes since the first time I’ve met her. And even then, I don’t think she was sad per se. More dejected about life than anything. She used to be so beautiful, so alive. Smiling into the camera. Loving me, her hair flying in the wind.
“Oliver. Fight…” She’s screaming, but it comes as a whisper.
I turn my head to the other woman. The blue has vanished. She’s laughing at me. Laughing at the fact, I realized I had feelings for her a little too late. She’s dancing in a puddle of blood as Gene Kelly sings in the rain. Her laugh is chilling my spine.
“Don’t let them win.” Sweet Elaine. I wish listening to her would be that simple.
“What are you waiting for? Kill him already.”
Tessa.
Tessa wants me to die.
I feel a prickle in my arm. Another one. She’s drugging me some more. I failed at escaping, so I got stung.
I killed the goons, at least I think so… I haven’t heard their voices in a while.
Tessa has me under her spell. She doesn’t want to save me.
Elaine wants to, but there is nothing she can do about it.
Dead people save living ones only in Patrick Swayze movies.
“Ol… Wake the fuck up. What are you waiting for.” Anna is there too. I think the women of my life are having a party on my grave. I can’t wait to see Naomi. Sweet Naomi. Behind her tattoo and sad eyes is a badass. When she finally appears, she slaps me behind the head.
“Wake up, dickhead!” I dart my eyes open and groan, but I’m not fast enough to avoid the bucket of icy water being thrown at me. It’s the way the new goons have to clean my wounds.
Mrs. VanHorn does have quite a lot of people working for her. “You can’t die on our watch, or she won’t be happy.”
One guy touches my wound, and I wince. “I know it hurts, just stay alive, and once she gets what she wants from you, it won’t hurt anymore… That’s the good thing about death. You don’t hurt any longer.” He bandages me up and slaps my shoulder. Compared to the two first guys, these ones don’t have any foreign accent — American purebred assholes.
“What does she want?” I mumble through my dry lips, but he ignores me.
He’s as old as Tessa’s mother.
Maybe older.
The other guy could be his son. But there is something familiar about him. I try to remember where I would have seen him, but nothing comes up. My thoughts have been foggy since I got shot, not helping me work through the mountain of complications being kidnapped by the mother of the girl I’m seeing. The fact that she wants to kill me is a bonus.
“Okay, boy,” the older man says, “tell us where it is.” I chuckle at the stupidity of his words. Telling them where my computer is a sure way to die. I need to buy some time for Mark to realize I didn’t bail on life, for him to know they have to find me and save me. Hopefully, they’ll understand soon enough. I disappeared quite suddenly from Tessa’s apartment and not because I have commitment issues, but because I’m a moron who thought he was safe.
It’s also a matter of time before they understand Andre VanHorn has no secret to hide except the ones of his wife.
“I want to talk to Mrs. VanHorn.”
“Well, she’s at a charity event at the moment, so you have my boy and me here,” he points to who I believe was his son.
“I’m Oliver,” I tell him.
“Dereck,” he nods. The infamous Dereck. The one in Fitzpatrick’s life.
“And that’s…” I study his son for a while, still trying to figure it all out.
The guy scoffs, and that’s when I see it. He scoffs like Tessa. “Tessa’s brother?” How the heck don’t we know Mrs. VanHorn had another child?
“Cousin… You’re smart, Spencer. I didn’t think you had figured it out, but maybe I was wrong.” No, he’s not, but I’m piecing back together every section of the puzzle. Between what Tessa’s mother told me and what I had figured out, I’m fairly sure it’s a little more complicated than what I can think of.
“So you do her dirty work because she’s a mother figure to your boy?” Dereck rolls his eyes and sits facing me. The boy in question is maybe ten years older than Tessa and looks a lot like Dereck except some mimics and expressions he certainly got from his mother.
“Do you know what love is, Oliver? Do you know how it is to love someone so hard you almost die when they die first?”
The irony of my existence… Don’t I know it? Isn’t Elaine the sole reason I’m in a basement bound to a chair right now?
I nod.
“And then one day…” He stops talking when the door opens, and the sound of heels against the stairs comes to us. We both turn our heads to see Mrs. VanHorn coming toward us.
“Dereck… I’m pretty certain he knows what it is to fall in love again.” She says before coming toward him and languorously kissing him. “Love knows no bounds, right Mr. Spencer?” If being underestimated is perfect to create an element of surprise, being overestimated helps you kill your prey without effort. You don’t need to do anything but pretend you know what the people in front of you are hiding for them to feed you more than what you’ve actually discovered.
So I swallow the surprise of seeing her kiss this guy after she told me she used him and nod.
“We have a problem, Mr. Spencer. We haven’t found your computer yet. Your research is quite sensitive, and destroying any evidence is the key to my happiness. Would you mind kindly telling me where I could find it, so I wouldn’t have to hurt your son?”
“Not that you would do that yourself...” I smirk while my heart drops at the idea of her touching Aito.
“I never did anything myself. I’m a poor brainless housewife Mr. Spencer, who only thrives through social status and charity events. Isn’t it how my dear daughter has pictured me?”
She jerks her head toward her nephew, who instantly obeys and comes toward me. His hand wraps around my injured arm and presses into my injury. I clench my jaw not to scream and breathe in deeply.
“Where is your computer, Mr. Spencer?” His thumb pushes in, and I fist my hands to release the jolt of pain I feel in my arm.
“There is nothing on my computer. Do you think I would be stupid enough to keep files in there knowing the risks I was taking uncovering the death of a beloved NASCAR driver?” I have nothing on my computer except, by now, Tessa’s birth certificate, which would trace back to Andre being her father even if he’s not.
“So you know?” Dereck narrows his eyes on me. I didn’t yesterday, but he just admitted that he has something to do with it.
Still not giving them shit, I shrug.
My SEAL buddies and I played poker a lot in between missions and being good at reading people, I won a lot. I could tell who was bluffing and when, but they could rarely tell when I was. If in poker you bl
uff for your opponents to fold, bluffing in life becomes a subconscious defense against a threat, and you need to be sure of your opponent’s reaction not to end up dead. If I’m not entirely sure of the extent of the power of Mrs. VanHorn, then I know Dereck is quite in love with a manipulative bitch, and I can turn this to my advantage.
“I know what Mrs. VanHorn told me, blaming you for Fitzpatrick’s death and Andre VanHorn being her soulmate.”
Dereck snaps his gaze toward her, and his son releases my arm. Blood rushes to my open flesh, and it takes everything in me not to let the ball of bile in my throat end up on my knees. I gulp the queasiness back down my pipes and focus on the task at hand.
Playing them against one another might be my only chance to come out of this alive.
“She was adamant about living with the love of her life. You didn’t think this was you Dereck, did you? She even said something about you being a poor bloke crushing on her.” Mrs. VanHorn sends me the equivalent of a death stare for me to shut up, but seeing the distress on Dereck’s face and even more on his son, I know I’m on the right path.
“Yes. She even said she would get rid of you once all this is done so there will be no witnesses…”
“I thought we were getting rid of Andre? Making it look like a suicide after he retracted from the race for being unmasked as a liar on his military service?”
“Dad, shut up.” The son finally speaks, “you don’t know what he knows or not and what Emeline told him. He’s just playing the game.”
“Am I? Do you trust your aunt so much that you will bet your father’s life on it?”
“Shut up!” The guys scream, “VanHorn has to die!”
I can’t ignore the adrenaline rushing through my veins being in the fucked up situation I’m in. That guy is unstable and has an issue with Andre VanHorn. Dereck is ready to lose his shit because he loves a woman who is using him.
Mrs. VanHorn is set to kill me so that I will shut up, and I idiotically love every second of it. Even if I know, she has eyes on Aito. I have no control whatsoever on what is happening in front of me, but I’m elated and high on danger.
Fuck, I’ve missed this.
I’ve missed myself.
“I get it, man. I hated the navy SEALs for a while after I found out they failed me. So what did the CIA do to you?” He doesn’t answer, and I decide not to push him so I won’t risk perishing at his hands. Even if I am now playing with my safety, I’m not entirely ready to die.
“So if you don’t have any information on your computer,” Mrs. VanHorn tries to redirect the train wreck that conversation became, “where do you keep the drive with the files?”
I roll my eyes. “The Cloud, Mrs. VanHorn. Everything is in the Cloud. Password protected Cloud that only one person has access to in case I disappear more than twenty-four hours. We’re almost there, right?” I see the slight panic in her and Dereck’s eyes, and I know I have them in the midst of doubt that will only grow with time.
“You don’t give me any other choice than to hurt your son, Mr. Spencer.”
I don’t play her game. I’m better than that.
“Do… But I hope you’re ready for his mother because she’s been to hell and back, and if you touch a hair on his head, I can promise you, she won’t let you rest until she has fed you to tigers. It’s your turn to bet on life, Mrs. VanHorn. Are you ready to unleash the dragon, or would you prefer we find a compromise?”
Maybe my bluff skills are rusty, and her soul is already too dark to care because without a glance in my direction, she turns her back to me and looks toward Dereck’s son.
If I thought I'd won her over, her next words show me how wrong I was.
“Kill him,” she announces without any emotion in her voice. And when the grip on the gun I didn’t know the guy was carrying hits me hard on the head, I know I’ve lost the most crucial poker game of my life.
But at least, she won’t touch my son.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
TESSA
For a PR guy, Dex Crawford acts as if he is a CIA agent.
Maybe this is normal in LA, but here it makes you look like a prick.
A gigantic prick in fact.
The first thing he did was throw me out of the conference room to talk to Mark alone.
He arrived this morning acting almighty, like he owns the place and trying to fix shit he had no idea about, but it seems Oliver’s friends think of him as the new Messiah. I don’t see how a tall scrawny guy in a suit will be better than the muscles and brains Cole Security Forces have in the office but it’s not up to me to tell Twilight how to navigate his ship. Knowing Mark, he’ll figure it out fast enough.
They have been cooped up together for hours, and haven’t even come up for a breath of fresh air.
To make matters worse, I couldn’t even spy through the blinds as Crawford shut them as soon as he entered the room.
Less worried now that the Savior has arrived, Naomi and the baby went back to the hotel room with the nanny, while Lars stayed behind, more to keep me company than anything.
We’re sharing a non-conversational moment, me leaving a message to Dereck to postpone our meeting and Trouble answering emails on his phone when the elevator doors open, and a woman dressed all in black with short bleached hair and scars on her face steps in. Walking as if she was on a mission to kill, she nods at Lars Trouble—who nods back—and without slowing down to mutter a word or ask for direction, walks toward the conference room and slides in as if she was expected. It lasted a few seconds, but it feels like she walked in slow motion like in a Tarantino movie. Kill Bill’s in the house.
“Who’s that?” I murmur, not sure I want her to know I’m asking about her.
“Crawford’s secret weapon. If someone knows something, it’s her. If you need someone to be found, she’ll do it as well. If there is anything to find, she’s one of the best.”
“Really? I thought that was Oliver?”
Lars scoffs. “Believe me, I would prefer to tell you she’s shit but I have to accept she’s the best… Last year, when I was accused of assault, she’s the one who detangled it all. We had shit. The police had shit. But she found the breach and pressed until it bled from its source.”
“She seems badass…”
Lars chuckles, “she is. It’s better to be on her good side.” I don’t impress easily but I surely want her to become my friend more than my enemy. Lars continues, “I didn’t think she was in the country but what do I know. It might be an in and out.” He goes back to his phone, types a few words on his screen before coming back to me. “Have to update Dan so his wife doesn’t lose her shit about Oliver. They are close. Very close. He’s been an ass the past week but they will always have each other’s back. But you’ve met her, right?” Remembering the awkward encounter where I wasn’t at my best and then Oliver’s anger explosion right after, I nod.
“She’s tough. The shit she gave me and Art when we met her. Incredible. We like to surround ourselves with tough women in this family. Oliver is no exception.” He winks and smiles and if I haven’t been rendered speechless by Lars Trouble just talking to me like we were friends about his bandmate, I would certainly correct him about my relationship with Oliver. Because I’m not Oliver’s woman. I’m not even his date. I’m the girl he fucks when he sees her, which has been a lot the past week, but we haven’t talked about our future, a relationship or anything of the sort. I’m a benefit without being a friend. I’m a repetitive one-night stand. I’m the girl he ditches when it gets to be too much.
Trying to regroup, I say the only thing that comes to my mind.
“Dex Crawford is an asshole.” I blurt and blush right away.
Lars laughs again. “He certainly is. Be glad he doesn’t control your life like he does mine. As a publicist, it’s hell sometimes. He protects us even against ourselves. He’s lucky he knows what he’s doing because I don’t know many people who could stand his bluntness.” He offers me a smile and turns
back to his phone at the same time as Mark’s office door opens and said asshole comes out like a silent fart in the wind— even if you don’t hear it coming doesn’t mean it won’t kill you.
“Miss Fitzpatrick, we’re ready for you,” the pompous ass tells me, his icy blue eyes almost rolling while his lips sneer a little. Great. We don’t know each other but we already have a certain dislike for one another. I can only imagine what my mother told his family over the years.
Trouble puts his hand on my shoulder and taps me on the back.
“Good luck,” he says while pushing me slowly out of my chair. Taking a big breath in, I stand and walk toward the raunchy smell of condescendence perspiring from Crawford.
Then it hits me.
“How do you know my name is Fitzpatrick?” He smiles like a Disney villain and shakes his head, a little amused by my question.
“Sit, and I’ll explain what I can.” He says before returning to the head of the table—where he was obviously sitting before— shuffling the files spread out in front of him. Mark nods at my arrival, showing me where to sit with his hand, and the bleach-haired girl smiles at me before introducing herself.
She seems nice, in a serial killer vibe kind of way.
“I’m Leo,” she says. I’m about to reply when dickhead interrupts us.
“I don’t have time for pleasantries. We have a question for Miss Fitzpatrick and I believe time is of the essence here as we’re certainly dealing with a kidnapping. Banks, tell us what you know.”
“Of course, Boss,” she snorts, “do you want me to remove the giant cactus up your ass first?” Crawford doesn’t even answer nor look at her. All he does is swirl his hand in the air for her to start speaking. I look at Mark who’s of course, amused by the situation, and cross my arms waiting for the woman to start.
“Let’s dive in. I’m sorry if it sounds a little impersonal but it’s better to get a better perspective on the target...” the girl says and, in a few seconds, I’m submerged by an ocean of information.
