Payback Princess (Lost Daughter of a Serial Killer Book 2)

by C. M. Stunich

  As soon as I see my sister’s handwriting, my heart breaks all over again. How many times can that happen before it shatters irreparably, before I can’t put the pieces together anymore? A person can only use so much tape and glue, so many staples and nails, to cobble the shards of their damaged heart into something recognizable.

  I hand the letter back to Maxx and close my eyes.

  “You read it,” I instruct him. “Just in case.”

  He takes it carefully from my fingers as I lean back against the wall and listen.

  “Baby Sister,” X begins, pausing to clear his throat.

  That’s how it starts. I almost lose it right then, reaching up to dash tears from my eyes.

  “I can’t even pretend to understand what you’re going through. The day that woman caught us at the coffee shop was one of the worst for me because I knew she’d try to keep us apart. That’s what I fear the most, that this physical distance between us will turn into emotional distance.

  “When I gave you the phone, I hoped we’d be able to keep in touch despite that woman’s influence.”

  I smile a little because Maxine has always referred to Tess as ‘that woman’. She doesn’t seem to have any intention of changing that now. No matter how many times she has to write it or say it or type it.

  “I don’t know what she’s done to scare you the way she has, but I will never give up on you. Never. I know you love me just as much as I love you. Kota, you will be my baby sister even when we’re old and gray. I am here for you, no matter what. Whatever happened, whatever she’s done, whatever you’ve done, it doesn’t change the way I feel about you.

  “Talk to me, please. I miss you and love you fierce.

  “Kisses and hugs from your Big Sister, Maxie.”

  A choked sound escapes me, and I open my eyes, shoving up to my feet and throwing the closet door open.

  Just in time apparently.

  I happen to glance out the window at the same moment that a black limo rumbles past the gate.

  Another limo.

  Just like the white one that we took to the country club that day. I’ve since learned that it was Laverne’s limo. Parrish’s cranky old grandma can shove that limo right up her ass. She hasn’t even bothered to stop by since her grandson went missing, but I have heard her screaming over the phone at Tess and Paul both on occasion. She’s in Medina currently, however. I do know that.

  “He’s here,” X says, moving up beside me. “Are you sure about this?”

  “If I don’t go, Parrish dies,” I tell him, glancing back and meeting his beautiful eyes. I have no idea what’s going to happen between us—if anything at all. But I can’t think about that right now. “Wish me luck.”

  I grab both of my phones from Parrish’s desk and head downstairs just in time to see Delphine opening the front door.

  Justin Prior waits on the other side, charming smile already in place.

  “Hello, princess,” he says, and then off we go.

  To lunch with a deranged serial killer who murders teenagers.

  Lucky me.

  “How are you doing today, sweetheart?” Justin asks, settling into his seat like a man very accustomed to grotesque wealth. Raúl prepares him a glass of champagne, offering me up a glass as well. I just stare at it. But what’s a little underage drinking compared to everything else I’ve fucking done?

  I take it, and Justin seems pleased, his smile widening in an almost disturbing sort of way.

  Raúl retreats, closing the door and joining the driver in the front seat.

  The dark glass between us and them keeps our conversation private; I’m sure that’s not by accident.

  I down the entire glass of champagne in one go, switching it out for the bottle. I yank it from the ice bucket by the neck, remembering that fateful day in the white limo with Parrish, when I dry heaved and nearly threw up into an empty bucket very similar to this.

  That was lifetimes ago, wasn’t it?

  I’ve done so many things I never thought I’d do.

  That, and I’ve fallen in love. More than once? I have no idea. Actually, I do, but it’s sort of a heavy subject and I don’t have the headspace for it, not when I’m sitting kitty-corner to a guy who kills people.

  “How about you tell me how Parrish is doing and then I’ll answer your question?” I retort, downing some of the champagne and letting it fizz across my tongue. Justin’s still smiling at me, his legs crossed, revealing black socks above his dark brown shoes. He’s got on a blue suit, the jacket unbuttoned, the top few buttons on his dress shirt also undone. There’s an expensive watch on one wrist, but really, it’s his bright blue eyes that command my attention.

  “I’m a man of my word, princess. If you begin to question my integrity, I might start to get angry.” He slides his phone from his pocket with the hand that isn’t holding the champagne. After tapping the screen a few times, he passes it over to me.

  I look down to see what appears to be a live feed of Parrish pacing the floor. His bed is messy, the covers half on the floor. His fingers are locked together behind his head, his chocolate hair falling onto his forehead. The sun-bleached bits seem a little darker, but maybe that’s just the lighting?

  His chest and belly are sliced up, and he winces slightly as he drops his arms to his sides. But at the very least, he seems clean, and the wounds are still shiny, still slathered with some sort of salve or ointment. My heart contracts painfully, and I forget to breathe for so long that I let out a choking breath, like I’m suffocating.

  Justin seems to find that funny, chuckling as he collects the phone from my hand, taps the screen again, and puts it back in the pocket of his jacket.

  “You want to know how I’m doing today?” I inquire politely. “Well, since you seem to be so big on honesty, I’ll tell you. Shitty, that’s how I’m doing.”

  He chuckles at me again and sips his champagne, watching me over the rim of the glass like I’m the most curious and most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. The expression echoes Tess’ warning from earlier, and I shiver.

  “Why is that, darling?” he asks, and I grit my teeth. The constant pet names are grating.

  “Um, you threatened me into fucking my sister’s boyfriend last night,” I snap, too frustrated to even be embarrassed. Well, okay, so my cheeks flame and my tits burn, but at least he can’t see the latter part of my flush. “That’s sick. You’re sick. This whole thing is sick.”

  Justin doesn’t appear bothered by my outburst, cocking his head slightly to one side as he studies me some more. Taking me in. Absorbing me. I’ll admit, I get a small sort of thrill at seeing the split at the edge of his lip and the purpling of a bruise just beneath a fine layer of foundation. He tried to hide it, but since I know what I’m looking for, it seems obvious.

  “To be fair, Maxine broke up with Maxim prior to last night. He was a free man. Try not to be so hard on yourself.” Justin finishes his champagne and then delicately places the glass in a cup holder opposite him. “Besides, you’re attracted to Maxx, are you not?”

  “I’m your daughter,” I reply blandly, my hand tightening around the neck of the champagne bottle. “Why would you even ask me that?”

  He sighs, but in a patronizing sort of way, like I’m just a heathen who hasn’t learned how to behave properly just yet. His eyes flick to the tennis bracelet on my wrist, and the edge of his mouth quirks up in amusement. Bingo.

  “Attraction, sex, romance, they’re all just games we play with ourselves. Reward yourself with your wants. Don’t be ashamed of them.”

  “Oh, you mean the way you do?” I retort, wondering how sassy I can get before this all backfires on me—and Parrish. I should probably watch my tongue, but then, Justin never told me I had to. He hasn’t made it a command—yet. “You murder people.”

  “Every murderer is probably somebody’s old friend. You cannot mix up sentiment and reason,” he says, as if quoting something from memory. Justin gives me a sharp smile in response
to my questioning look. “The Mysterious Affair at Styles.” When I give no indication of understanding, Justin throws his head back in a manic yet somehow also genteel laugh. I shiver again. I’m going to be doing a lot of shivering around this man, apparently. Just like I had a billion forced smiles with Tess.

  Fuck. My. Life.

  “An Agatha Christie novel, darling.” He leans in toward me, and I get that whiff of his spicy scent again, the one that makes me feel as if there are memories dancing at the edges of my consciousness. But when was the last time I saw this man? When I was one? One and a half, at best? You can’t have real memories from those ages, just fragments of thought. Still, his scent lingers. Just like Tess’. My parents. Tess Vanguard, the crime writer, and Justin Prior, the app developer/serial killer. Hmm. Should I be proud or, like, suicidal? “I see that Tess hasn’t enlightened you much on her past. You know, her grandmother was obsessed with Agatha Christie.” He sits back and nods his head once, as if he’s recalling a fond memory. “She’s the world’s bestselling author, Tess’ hero.” Justin snorts and crosses his arms. “Has she told you nothing about her past?”

  “She mentioned Agatha Christie in passing,” I admit, studying Justin the same way that he’s studying me. Are there clues here to finding Parrish? Clues in his appearance? In this limo? In our destination? “What does it matter?”

  Justin heaves a sigh and shakes his head again.

  “History is important, Mia. Lest we repeat the same mistakes over and over again.” He smiles at me again. “As I’ve said before, this town is cursed. Cursed in blood and diamonds.” Justin chuckles at himself. He seems to enjoy laughing, but every sound he makes is tinged with shadows. “I certainly won’t be repeating my mistakes from fourteen years ago.”

  “How old are you?” I ask. Tess mentioned they went to Whitehall together, but for how long?

  “Thirty-six. Is that important?” He cocks his head to the side, still smiling. Always smiling.

  “Just putting together clues,” I reply, leaning back in my seat and trying to affect a calm demeanor. I’ve grown up light-years in the last few weeks thanks to this prick. Might as well put those skills to good use.

  “Is that so? Do you know where to find Parrish?” This time, he isn’t just smiling, he’s grinning maniacally. “I’m guessing not or else you would’ve freed him. No mind. I truly didn’t expect you to solve this mystery just yet. Even my intelligent, perceptive little daughter needs to learn to walk before she can run.”

  I glare at him, gritting my teeth so hard that they actually hurt.

  “So, can I ask you questions? Will you answer them?” I take another swig of the champagne.

  “Depends on the questions. Ask away. I won’t be mad. If I don’t want to answer, I simply won’t.”

  Hmm. Okay. It’s like, bizarre as fuck that Justin Prior is more open than Tess Vanguard. She doesn’t really invite conversation or questions. At least, not until recently. Justin seems excited by the idea.

  I decide to start small and work my way up.

  “What’s up with the black stag mask?” I ask, raising a brow. “It’s a little odd, don’t you think?”

  Justin snorts and leans toward me, arms still crossed. He looks so young. I was expecting someone much older; I don’t know why. Tess was eighteen when she had me; Justin was twenty. I should’ve figured they’d be close in age.

  “Oh, there are so many reasons for that.” He grins again, his teeth a brilliant, blinding white. “The black stag represents mystery and rebellion. It’s a warning to avoid flashy things and search for substance.” My eyes flick to the watch on Justin’s wrist before returning to his face, and he freaking winks at me. Total creeper. “Anyway, we used to watch the movie Bambi together when you were a baby. I’m sure you don’t remember, but it always struck me, that scene where the young fawn finally meets his father.” He holds up a hand, like he’s reliving the memory.

  Typical Millennial. Loves Disney. A lot. Also likes killing people. Not sure if that’s a Millennial trait specifically though. I’m guessing not.

  “Stags represent fatherhood in certain cultures.” He waves that same hand in a dismissive fashion. “Anyway, it’s just pageantry. Just for fun. You have to have fun in life where you can. It’s the little things, Mia.” Justin chuckles at himself yet again, and I stare wide-eyed in return.

  Good lord.

  He’s nuts.

  He is absolutely nuts.

  “This is as exciting as I always imagined it would be.” He sits back in his seat, recrossing his arms. “Next question.”

  “Why are you doing this to me?” I manage to whisper, past the sudden surge of fear and anxiety that I’m feeling. Every second that I spend with this man confirms what I need to do. I need to offer myself to him completely in order to save Parrish. In order to save everyone I love, actually. He has all the resources: the money, the connections, the power, that horrible app.

  That app. Milk Carton. I don’t know much about it, but I got a horrible, horrible feeling when I heard the pitch during the press conference.

  The Milk Carton app puts powerful facial recognition software in the hands of the public with a simple, user-friendly interface. More advanced than any of its predecessors, it can even search the dark web, comb social media, use side profiles, blurred faces, and link to traffic cams, store surveillance cameras, airport security and more. Milk Carton even utilizes its own cutting-edge aging software to help find missing children years after their image was last captured.

  Milk Carton, the only application a parent will ever need to install on their phone.

  Keeping children safe is not only our mission—it’s our passion.

  And it can be yours, too—for fourteen dollars on your favorite app store.

  Track anyone, anytime, anywhere. All in the palm of your hand.

  Keeping children safe, right? Unless, you know, the CEO kills them first.

  Anyway, how creepy is all that?

  I suck in a deep breath. The scope of this app is terrifying. I’m not even sure how it’s legal.

  “Doing this to you?” Justin parrots back. “I’m not doing anything to you, Mia. I’m parenting you.”

  “My name is Dakota,” I snap back, and he cocks a perfectly manicured eyebrow.

  “You want to be called by the name of your kidnapper’s dead baby?” I cringe at that, but it’s the truth, whether I like it or not. “Okay. I’ll play along, Dakota.” He continues to smile at me. “I’m not doing this to hurt you; I’m teaching you. The world is sick and sad and cruel. You need to learn to master it, or it will master you.”

  Oh my god. Oh my god. He really is freaking insane.

  “You see, I’ve ascended to a higher level of being. All these years of being alone, of missing you, of missing your mother, of living in exile, I’ve learned so much. All of these hard-won truths, I’m passing onto you in a much simpler, much easier to digest way. You should be grateful you have such an adoring father.” He gives me a faux little frown. “You’re not upset with me, are you?”

  Wow. Um. Wow.

  “Take me,” I blurt out, setting the bottle aside and not caring if it spills on the expensive leather seat. Justin grabs it right away and places it back into the bucket of ice. “Just take me right now and let Parrish go. I’ll do whatever you want, participate in any lesson. I’ll crash cars and throw things and insult whoever you need me to insult.”

  Justin stares at me for a moment, and then he starts to laugh again, this deeply mirthful, rolling sound that echoes around the back of the limo.

  “Oh, Dakota, princess, you’re adorable.” He reaches out and cups the side of my face in gentle fingers, stroking my hair back. I don’t dare push his hand away. What was it he said to me on the note that came with the heart pin? I’m not sure either of us would survive that. Yep. That’s the vibe I’m getting. “Oh no, you’ll still have to find him. I appreciate your enthusiasm, but these lessons cannot be rushed. There are hard cons
equences for everything we do in life; this is yours. You want Parrish back? Find him. He belongs to you. You can do whatever you want with him; I won’t interfere.”

  I’m shaking now, and I feel like I might very well puke, same way I did in Tess’ limo way back when. Um. I mean, three and a half months ago. Sure feels like a century has passed.

  “What if … what if when I find him, I come to you and give myself up then? Will you leave everyone I love alone? Could we work that out?”

  Justin appears to consider this for a minute and then shrugs, a casual, easy roll of his shoulders.

  “Mm, not likely, but I’ll give it some consideration. Some.” He points at me. “But don’t count on it.”

  I’m just staring at him now, wondering how the fuck this will ever end. Where does he stop? When does he let me go? Never?

  I’m going to have to kill him.

  That thought hits me like a ton of bricks, and my head spins. I feel dizzy.

  I don’t want to do that, kill my own biological father. But what if it’s the only way out of this?

  The only way out is … to give up a vital part of myself? To commit murder?

  I’m stricken. I’m devastated. I can barely breathe.

  “Oh, look, we’re here!” Justin cheers, grinning at me as the limo rolls to a stop and Raúl opens the door for us. “Go on now, I think you’ll like the place I picked.”

  Even though I want nothing more than to drop to the ground in despair, I make myself climb out of the limo only to find myself outside of a tiny little hole-in-the-wall restaurant. It’s barely big enough for three adults to stand with their arms outstretched from one wall to the other. The building itself is crammed in between two others, the exterior brick painted a dingy yellow.

  Uh. This looks nothing like the country club where Tess took me to lunch.

  This is … “A Mexican restaurant?” I guess as I read the name. Un Padre, Dos Hijas. I don’t really speak Spanish, but I think it means … one father, two daughters? I’m assuming that means the place is owned by a guy and his daughters. How poignant. As far as I know, I’m this idiot’s only kid.