I clear my throat. “Hey, Sylvia, it’s Trix.” I keep my eyes on Hatch.
“Trix, hi. What’s going on?”
“Listen, um . . . I have to go out of town for a while, um . . . sick family member.” I swallow. “My sister.”
Hatch pins me with a glare, and his jaw works back and forth.
I shrug and mouth I’m sorry, it just came out. Which is total bullshit.
“Oh, no. Honey, I’m sorry. Is it serious?”
“Serious? Yeah, I’ll probably be gone for a while, but I’ll let you know.”
“Okay, sure. Yes, family first. I’m sorry to hear that.”
Hatch gets up and moves to the table to grab his coffee.
“It’s alright. I’m kinda looking forward to going home.” I fist my hand around the phone.
“Where’s home again?”
I pinch my eyes closed and hold my breath. “Majestic Mountain.”
I brace for Hatch’s punishing slap.
“Where’s that? I’ve never heard of it.”
“Just outside of town—” My throat constricts with the power of Hatch’s hand wrapped around my throat.
“Sounds lovely.
My mouth opens and closes, but I can’t breathe enough to get a word out. I watch as Hatch tries to figure it out, his eyes darting around the room, searching for something he missed.
“I’ll get you covered here. You let me know when . . .”
Her words dissolve as black invades my vision. My eyes roll, and the phone falls from my hand as I fight for consciousness. He shoves the phone to my ear and releases my throat enough to suck in a quick breath.
“Oh, honey, don’t cry. Your sister’ll be okay.”
“Thank you.”
He mouths say good-bye.
“Good-bye.”
“Bye, Tri—”
He rips the phone from my ear. “Nice try.”
This time I see his fist coming, but it’s too late to brace.
I barely register the pain before everything goes black.
I wake up to a rumbling in my belly and a killer fucking headache. The room is dark, but that means nothing. It could be high noon and I’d have no idea. I roll to my back and groan as my head swims and my jaw aches. My arm is attacked by pinpricks as blood rushes to my numb fingers.
“Nice of you to wake up.” Hatch, that motherfucker.
I ignore him until something he tosses at me lands on my belly. I look down and tears spring to my eyes.
My phone. Shattered into multiple pieces.
“You did it to yourself.” He stands and moves to the bathroom.
Finally alone, I allow the tears to flow freely. I’m never going to see him again. After this, Hatch won’t let me live. He knows I’ll go to the cops, turn his ass in, and tell them everything I know.
My search for Lana’s killer has become my death sentence. I’d laugh at the irony if it wasn’t so fucking sad. This is going to destroy my family.
The sound of running water muffles my cry as the reality of my situation hits me square in the chest. I wonder if this was how Svetlana spent her last few days: crying, begging for mercy that never came. Hoping beyond hope that God would deliver her. Or maybe she was strong. She always was, and she had faith that even the worst situations could never shake. Did she look her killer in the eyes and grind her teeth against the pain? Challenge them with her determination to die without giving them the satisfaction of knowing they’d broken her.
Hatch grabs my arm and frees me from the bed. “Come on, sunshine. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
Part of my brain registers that this would be a good time to fight. Being free means I could claw at him, find his gun, and scream at the top of my lungs until he put a bullet in my head.
But I’m weak and tired. So fucking tired.
He carries me to the bathroom and sets me down. He lifts my dress over my head and pulls off my boy shorts before motioning to the steamy cascade. “Go on.”
I half expect him to follow me in, rape me, at the very least demand something from me, but he doesn’t. Instead, he drops the lid on the toilet seat, sits down, and lights a smoke.
My toes hit the warm tub, and the heat sucks away every last bit of my energy. I sink to the floor of the dingy motel tub, pulling my knees to my face and wrapping my arms around my shins.
Dear Father in heaven, if this is it, if these are my last few days on this earth, please let them pass quickly. Have mercy on me in my death that it won’t be painful or messy. Comfort my family. They’ll need you now more than ever. And please, God, please . . . let Mason know that I love him, that he’s the only man I’ve ever loved, and that, even in death, I’ve dedicated my heart to him wholly and completely. Svetlana, moya sestra, moye serdtse. I will see you soon. Amen.
Thirty-six
Present day . . .
Mason
Could it be this easy? I stare at my phone and read the words again. Majestic Mountain Inn. Thirty-six miles outside of the city.
Unease stirs my gut, screaming that something ain’t right. This has to be a set up, but even if it is, I’ll walk right into a firing squad for the chance to get Trix back. I shove my phone into my pocket and watch as Rex spills a shoebox of ammo onto the table.
He tosses me a blade that I catch on the fly.
“We have to get the cops involved.” Gia stands off to the side of Rex, his rage making it clear to keep a safe distance.
Lane, who interrupted Rex’s full-fledged freak out, ended up being sent home with a sore jaw. Rex is radiating fury like I’ve never seen before only mirroring my own.
“No cops.” He pops a clip in his Sig and shoves it behind his belt.
Agreed.
“Rex, don’t risk—”
He slams his fist against the table, his glare aimed at her. “He hurt you. Who knows what the fuck he’s doing to Trix. I owe that woman my life for finding me when you were gone. No way we’re callin’ the cops. Not until I rip that fucker apart and beat him with his bloody limbs.”
The robotic tone to Rex’s voice matches the same detachment I feel in my head. It’s as if my body is protecting itself from total self-destruction, allowing it to stay separate from the whirling feelings that threaten to send me into chaos. No, this is a time for clear thinking.
Like the hours before a fight, calm, focused, a calculating predator with an appetite for annihilation.
The doorbell rings and Gia jumps.
“It’s alright.” He continues to fill his pockets with knives and ammo. “It’s Wade.”
“That’s good.” Her shoulders relax a little. “He’s level-headed. He’ll keep you from killing someone—”
“He’s not coming with.” Rex moves to the door while I continue to pace the kitchen, every second that passes another second we’re not getting my girl. “He’s staying with you.”
“What?” Her eyes pop wide and the tension in her shoulders returns.
“Just a precaution.” I try to speak as calmly as possible through the turbulence of fear and anger that coils in my gut. “This could be a set up to draw us out of town so he can get to you.”
She stares between Rex and me, shaking her head. “He’s not like that. He’d never hurt me.”
“Don’t you fucking defend him in my house!” Rex’s roar practically shakes the walls.
Gia cringes before her shoulders sag. “Your house?”
He recoils and crosses to her in long strides. “I’ll be back by morning.” He moves to touch her, but she pulls from his hold. Reaching again, he loops her behind her neck and presses a hard kiss to her lips before releasing her. She turns and stalks to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.
“Fuck.” He takes a long, exhausted breath. “Let’s get this over with.”
It’s about time. I move to the front door, tossing Wade a quick nod.
“Can’t believe I’m gonna miss this shit.” Wade shakes his head. “If you get a chance, grab a video.”
/> “My hands’ll be busy.” Killing. Maiming. Choking the life out of whoever stands between Trix and me. I eye Rex, who’s stuffing his pockets with weaponry. “Hate to rush this, but my woman’s out there.”
“Don’t get yourselves killed,” Wade mumbles to me as we pass.
Ha, if saving Trix means my death, it’ll be worth it.
We pull into the mostly abandoned motel parking lot less than thirty minutes later. From the outside, I’d assume the place had gone out of business years ago with its weed-ridden, cracked sidewalks and Bates-esque broken neon sign.
The No-Vacancy sign hangs to one side, only three of the nine letters visible. I flick off my headlights and pull the truck into the surrounding wooded area, inching around the back to a spot where we can get a clear view of the strip of rundown motel room doors. Only two cars are parked in the front, a mid-range compact with Nevada license plates and a rusted-out Jeep. Sticking to edge of the lot and out of sight, I park, shrouded in a canopy of shadows created by overgrown trees.
Rex grabs for the door handle before the truck comes to a complete stop.
“Hold on.”
He freezes and whips his head around, eyes wild like an animal who’s been locked in a cage for a year too long. “No, let’s go get this fucker.”
“We have no idea what we’re headed into here. Which door do we hit first? If they panic, they could throw her in a car and be gone in seconds. We gotta be smart about this. I won’t risk losing her again.”
He blinks, and the animalistic fog fades to logic. “You’re right. Okay.”
We sit back and watch the sleeping motel, checking windows for lights or curtain movement. Minutes pass and feel like hours. I know there’s a good chance Trix is just behind one of those doors. But which one?
The place is smaller, roughly twenty-five rooms. More of them face the highway, but I can’t imagine her being stashed over there where Hatch could be freely seen coming and going by people on the highway.
The clock ticks, and almost an hour passes before I catch movement to the far left of my vision. “Someone’s there.”
Rex follows my glare, and we watch a man emerge from a room on the far end. I squint, trying to make him out, but there are no lights in the lot or along the motel walls.
“He’s headed to another room.” Rex’s gaze tracks him right along with mine.
The closer he gets, the more he starts to come into focus. He’s wearing a baseball hat pulled down low, so I can’t make out any features, but something about him is familiar. Maybe he was at the villa the night she was taken.
“Dammit.” I squint when all but his legs are hidden from view beneath a fallen overhang. He stops at a door at the opposite end from where he came.
“I can’t see shit.” I keep my eyes on his feet, waiting to see who comes out of the room and where they’re off to. I hold my breath, hoping like hell it’s that motherfucker Hatchet so I can barge over there and beat the living piss out of him.
The door opens, and Rex and I lean in, but I can’t see enough to make out anything other than him disappearing into the room.
Fuckin’ hell . . . now what?
Trix
“Come on.” Hatch’s growl comes from the other side of the tiny two-person table. “Eat up.” He presses a whiskey bottle to his lips, taking a few long pulls of amber liquid.
Even after days of his barking commands, my stomach still twists every time he snaps. These last few hours he’s seemed tenser than usual, taking phone calls that require one word answers and end with a string of curses.
I’m cuffed by one arm to the leg of my chair while I pick at a cold cheeseburger with my free hand. “I’m not hungry.”
My heart burns at the memory of the last cheeseburger I had with Mason, how life had seemed so complicated then. I was so stupid. I had everything I never even knew I wanted and turned my back on it all for this?
Being held captive has given me time to think, to face my own mortality, and to pray. I’ve gone through every emotion possible, wringing them all dry until I’m left with only one.
Remorse.
I wasted so much time. I could have been living but didn’t, and Mason . . . God, I should’ve thrown myself at his feet when I had the chance. Now I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again.
“Eat!”
My eyes dart to Hatch’s, and the telltale glaze of inebriation coats his glare.
I pop a cold fry into my mouth and chew it until it’s liquid, my throat refusing to open and take food into my belly. I dip my chin, hiding my face behind my ratted hair, and try to hide my disgust.
“It’s almost over.” He tilts his head, watching me. “Soon, this’ll all be over.”
“I don’t even know what this is, Hatch.” I try to take a few sips of water, hoping it’ll ease my queasy stomach. “You haven’t told me anything other than you know who killed my sister but refuse to say.”
My gut burns as anger ignites my blood.
He chuckles, but the sound clashes against the pain that twists his expression. “It’ll all be over soon.”
God, why does he keep saying that? And furthermore, what does that mean? I answer my own question and my stomach revolts. They’re gonna kill me.
I pick away at my food in silence, and Hatch drinks while punching out the occasional text. Since when did he get so popular?
A knock on the door makes me jump, slamming my knee into the table.
I study Hatch, who doesn’t seem surprised by the visitor. I haven’t seen another person besides Hatch since he brought me here.
A sheen of sweat breaks across my skin, and I pull helplessly against my cuffed wrist. Equal parts panic and hope explode in my chest as Hatch cracks the door and speaks in a hushed voice.
I lean to try to peek around his massive back, but I’m at a weird angle and unable to see past him.
Seconds pass before he steps back and a man enters the room. I can’t make him out at first, other than he’s wearing a baseball hat and his lack of leather and denim tells me he’s not a biker.
Once inside, the guy steps closer to me, and the dim lamp light reveals his face.
I choke on a gasp and cough through a sob.
“Drake? Oh God, Drake!” I pull hard with my arm, pushing my seat back and standing up to launch myself into his arms. “Get me out of here.” I stand and move toward him, dragging the chair with me.
He peruses me with narrowed eyes, seeing me in nothing but an oversized T-shirt and hair that hasn’t been brushed in days, but says nothing.
Dread trickles in, cooling the warmth I’d felt upon first seeing him. My head spins as I try to piece it all together, and when he sets his dark and frigid eyes on mine, it all clicks into place.
I drop back into my chair. “You did this?”
He closes the space between us, but sits at the foot of the bed, just outside arm’s reach. Smart. I’d claw his fucking eyes out. “I did.”
I swallow the lump forming in my throat. “But . . .” I shake my head, looking between Hatch and Drake. These men aren’t strangers. Hatch was a friend and Drake is my boyfriend’s brother. “Why?”
He takes off his hat and runs one palm over his cropped hair before popping it back on. “I needed out.”
I swing my gaze to Hatch, who throws back more booze, ignoring me. “What does that have to do with me?”
“Blood for blood. A life for a life.” He says it with zero feeling, as if he didn’t just sign my death warrant.
“My life”—I take a few seconds to process—“for your life.”
“Yes.”
I should feel something, a wave of rage that crashes over me and takes away all thought and turns me into some kind of feral animal that will risk my very breath for the chance to escape. Instead, I’m strangely numb, as if the concept is too much for my heart to take. Too complex for my mind to assimilate.
“But . . . Mason.”
Drake nods, as if he’d considered that too. “H
e’ll get over you.”
That’s it? He’ll get over me?
“No, he’ll kill you,” I spit between clenched teeth, the primal beast inside waking to the idea that by doing this, Drake will cause Mason pain.
He sighs and leans forward, his elbows on his knees. “He’ll believe you left him. He’s been through it before. He’ll get through it again.”
No, he won’t. Maybe he has in the past, but what we have is different. What we have is forever.
The last band that tethered me to sanity snaps, and I cover my mouth, trying to force back the beginnings of crazed laughter.
His eyes narrow and he takes me in, cautious, as if at any moment I’ll morph into a rabid beast. A giggle bursts from between my lips and quickly matures to full-blown laughter.
A chuckle grates from Hatch as I double over in my seat, letting the absurdity overtake me. Tears spring to my eyes as I suck air into my lungs. “He’s so gonna kill you.”
“Shut up!” Drake’s jaw ticks.
I hold up my hand, silently asking him to give me a second, but the giggles continue to roll from my lips. “He’s done . . . everything . . . for you.” More laughter.
Anger twists his features, his scar turning light against his fury-flushed skin. “I said shut the fuck up!”
“If you kill me . . . he’ll find out.” I wipe back tears as a sob rolls into a hiccup while the chaos of emotions tumbles through me. “He’ll never give up until you’re dead.”
As sick as it is, the laughter makes me feel better about dying. Maybe it’s the stress release or the confirmation of what I knew to be a possibility, but either way, I know Mason will dedicate his life to finding out what happened and make the fucker pay.
I lean back and slide deep into my chair, my T-shirt riding up high on my bare thighs, and smile. “You don’t deserve him.”
Even beneath the bill of his hat, I can see the war that wages behind his eyes.
“He actually loves you.” I tilt my head, stare, and glory in the way he squirms. “Probably the only person who really does.”
Drake pushes to standing so quickly my heart jumps. “Don’t have to listen to this shit.” He pulls something out of his pocket and steps behind me. “Let’s get this over with.”
Fighting for Forever Page 30
