Bad Blood (Lone Star Mobster Book 5)

by Cynthia Rayne

  “W-what are you doing?” Chase was right. This was a fool’s errand.

  “What I have to.”

  Mary braced herself for the worst.

  “I won’t be makin’ the same mistake twice. I’m gonna give you a chance to calm down and think this through and eventually forgive me.”

  For orphaning me? Not likely.

  Mary raised her chin. “And if I don’t?”

  “I prefer to focus on the positive. You’re a smart young lady with a bright future ahead of you, Mary. Surely, you’ll see reason. Once I’m assured of your loyalty, you’ll return to Harvard, finish your degree, and pursue your career, as we’d planned and we’ll never discuss this ugly business again.”

  The implicit threat hovered in the air.

  And if she didn’t play the compliant granddaughter, he’d arrange an accident for her, too. Mary wished she could say she was surprised, but she wasn’t. Her grandfather was despicable, and without conscience, both Jasper and Chase had been right.

  Tucker Cobb was a wolf.

  And Mary didn’t have any tears left for him. The last of what she felt for Tucker was stripped away.

  He was a murderer, plain and simple.

  “Take Mary to her room and guard the door,” Tucker said to the strange man.

  “You can’t do this.”

  “Yes, I can and I will. I’ll do anythin’ to protect us both.” And then he turned away.

  The guard took Mary by the arm and led her upstairs.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Is he home?”

  The soldier standing at the back door nodded. Chase took a gander at him and noticed bruises and welts marred his face. One of his pupils was blown, too. The man could barely stand.

  “What the fuck happened to you?”

  Alan rubbed his swollen jaw. “The Lone Star boys paid me a visit.”

  Fuck. So Noah knew what had happened already. There went the element of surprise.

  “They paid me a visit, too. You should probably go to the hospital.”

  “Yeah, well, your dad’s pissed at me, and I’m stuck with guard duty for the foreseeable future.” His brows lifted. “Sure you wanna go in there?”

  Chase nodded grimly. “Nope, but I have to.”

  He’d been waiting long enough.

  After he’d bandaged the wound, Chase had taken some pain meds after the alcohol had left his system. He wanted to go into this confrontation with a clear head and his wits about him.

  “Your funeral, man.”

  Chase winced. “Tell you what? I’ll handle my dad if you take yourself to the doctor and get checked out, okay?”

  Alan hesitated. “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely.” This way, he wouldn’t have to face Alan, too. Chase wanted to minimize the damage if he could. Besides, he was probably saving Alan. His dad didn’t forgive failure easily and no doubt had plans to take the man out by the end of the evening.

  “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

  “No problem.” Chase clapped him on the back and Alan took off toward his car.

  After squaring his shoulders, Chase walked into the den, determined to get some answers. His father sat at the oak desk. When Chase walked in, he slid an old notebook into the top desk drawer. He’d never taken a gander at it, but Chase bet there was a lot of incriminating information inside.

  “Where the fuck have you been? I’ve been callin’ you for an hour.”

  “I was too busy being unconscious.” Chase rubbed the back of his head. “You could’ve had someone check on me, old man.” The gun felt heavy in his jacket pocket, weighing him down. Unfortunately, the mobster had wounded him on the right side, his gun hand.

  “I figured you were dead.” His brows furrowed, a suspicious expression on his face.

  “You seem really broken up about the prospect.”

  He shrugged. “I know you can handle yourself.”

  “They took her, you know, so the game’s over.”

  “Yeah, I figured they’d come for Mary. Why did they leave you alive anyway?” Noah sneered.

  Did Noah suspect he’d colluded with the Lone Star Mafia? He’d always been paranoid, but this was ridiculous.

  Frankly, Chase had no idea, unless Mary had pleaded his case. It was the most likely scenario, although he wouldn’t share the insight with his father. The less he knew about their relationship, the better.

  Chase shrugged. “Maybe because they found her safe and sound.”

  Noah shook his head. “It doesn't sound like Tucker to me. Unless you cooperated with them?”

  “The bullet I pulled out of my shoulder says otherwise.”

  “Both you and Alan failed us, and you lived to tell the tale.” Noah tensed. “It’s awfully convenient. Both of you walked away from this with no permanent damage.”

  Chase snorted. “Maybe you should’ve approached Tucker sooner like I told you to, and none of this would’ve happened.”

  “I’m the underboss, and we do things my way, not yours.”

  Chase rolled his eyes. “I didn’t come here to argue about it anyway.”

  “Did you come to beg for forgiveness then?” Noah leaned back in his chair, like a king viewing a loyal subject. “You should.”

  “Not so much.” Chase hadn’t come here to kiss the ring. Before his father could react, he pulled out the gun and trained it on his head. “Tell me what you did, you sick son of a bitch.”

  “What are you doing?” Noah froze, but he didn’t seem frightened. Pity. Chase wanted to scare the shit out of him.

  “What’s it look like?”

  “I should’ve known you’d turn on me eventually. As for the question, you’re gonna have to be more specific, I’ve done a lot of things.”

  “I’m talkin’ about Faith.”

  His calm façade cracked. “What about her?”

  “Don’t act so innocent. You know exactly what I’m talkin’ about and I wanna know what you did to her.” Chase was itching to pull the trigger. The old man deserved it. Actually, no, he’d earned worse. A bullet to the head would be a kindness for someone who’d done such horrific things.

  “I raised her, fed her, and clothed her.”

  “And you forgot one thing on the list.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You raped her, too.” Chase practically shouted the words.

  Finally, Noah went pale, the color slowly draining from his face and Chase knew he’d hit a pressure point.

  Goddammit. He’d held onto some vain hope all of this was a giant misunderstanding, but it wasn’t.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You’re gonna sit here and pretend it didn’t happen?”

  “Don’t be disgustin’, Chase, I never touched her.”

  “Your face says otherwise, and Mom all but confirmed it. Don’t even think about tellin’ me a story, old man. I know what you did to her.”

  “You’re takin’ your mother’s word? The lying bitch has—”

  “Watch your mouth.” He might have issues with Wendy, but he wouldn’t listen to Noah run her down in front of him. “And I’ve seen the police report, the one you tried to bury.”

  This time, he said nothing.

  “How long did it go on?”

  Noah glanced away.

  For a long time, he said nothing. Chase waited the terrible silence out, needing to get some kind of explanation.

  “It wasn’t like that. I loved her.” The words were so soft, barely above a whisper. “I couldn’t help myself. Faith was so beautiful, special.”

  The awful, terrifying images entered his mind again. Ugh, I need to wipe my brain out. He shook his head, trying to stop the onslaught.

  “She was a child and your daughter, you prick.”

  And for once in his life, Chase saw shame in his father’s eyes. He didn’t think Noah was capable of regret.

  Noah cleared his throat. “I know, but I loved her.”

  No, he didn’t, not the way
a father should love his own daughter. His love, if you could call it that, was a perversion, a sickness.

  “Is that why you got divorced from Mom?” Chase was angry with both of them and himself for not seeing it sooner. He’d let her down, and now he had a crystal sort of clarity about what she’d endured.

  “No, I—”

  “Don’t.”

  “Okay, yes, damn you, is that what you want to hear?”

  “Do I want to hear this? No, but I need to know what the fuck happened.”

  “You could never understand what I felt for her, feel for her. Faith was precious to me.”

  “Precious? So you decided to molest her?” Chase lifted the gun, getting ready to make his move.

  “She was fourteen when I…had her the first time, hardly a child. I waited until she was old enough. In olden times, women used to be married at that age.” As he spoke, Noah stepped around the desk.

  “Don’t even think about.” His father kept a gun in the bookcase, along the far wall. He’d shown it to Chase once after one of Noah’s employees had to be “terminated.”

  “I wasn’t gonna—”

  “We both know you were goin’ for the gun.” Chase was tired of excuses. “We don’t live in the dark ages, and she wasn’t your wife, she was your daughter. How could you rape your own flesh and blood?”

  “It wasn’t rape.”

  What the fuck? “Don’t try tellin’ me she wanted… this sick, twisted thing.”

  “Not at first, but I was tender, I made sure she—”

  “Stop!” Chase roared. “I can’t hear anymore.” He didn’t want to picture the two of them together. Even the thought made him violently ill. “You’re right, I don’t get it and I never will.”

  “Of course not.” A fever burned in his eyes. “She was mine, all mine.”

  How could he have crossed the line? Although, Chase supposed if his father delighted in breaking boundaries, and taboos didn’t seem to bother him, maybe this had been the ultimate thrill, a forbidden desire he couldn’t resist.

  Or maybe he was merely sick in the head. Clearly, the old man had been obsessed with her.

  “I’d always thought you were a monster, but I didn’t know how bad you actually were, until now.” In his book, this was way worse than being a member of the mafia.

  “You don’t have any right to judge me, and I don’t give a shit what you think.”

  “Yeah, you’ve made it clear on several occasions, and I feel the same about you.”

  Noah crossed his arms over his chest. “So what happens now? Did you come here to play judge, jury, and executioner?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes.” He lifted the weapon once more, ready to pull the trigger. “Once I’m satisfied. Tell me how you killed her.”

  “I didn’t murder Faith.” Noah met his gaze evenly. “I’d never harm her.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “You should, because I loved Faith, and I didn’t murder her.”

  It was hard to believe, mainly because he’d abused her for years, but Noah didn’t even flinch. And if the man had admitted to incest without blinking, maybe he didn’t kill her.

  “Fuck. You really didn’t do it, did you?”

  “No.”

  “Then who did?”

  “I already told you, Tucker Cobb and his boys did.”

  “No, I don’t think so.” None of this made any sense. “They would’ve taken credit for it. They’d want us to know they’d murdered one of our own.”

  “Cobb must’ve done it. I don’t know why they kept it quiet.”

  “Regardless, you don’t deserve to live.” Chase aimed the gun. “This is for Faith.”

  Noah lifted his chin and didn’t even shut his eyes.

  And then the strangest thing happened.

  Chase couldn’t pull the trigger.

  He kept thinking about Mary. What would she say? She’d tell him to walk away, turn the other cheek, because if he took Noah out, Chase might become just like him, a wolf.

  And regardless, Chase didn’t know if he could live with himself. He didn’t want to be the kind of man who murdered his own father, no matter what terrible things he’d done.

  Noah gave a smug little laugh. “You don’t have the balls, do you?”

  Noah considered mercy a weakness, but Chase knew better. It was a strength.

  “Since I’m sparin’ your life, watch your tone. I’m done with you, and this family, the whole damn thing. I’m out.” Chase backed toward the door.

  “You can’t walk away from this, from me.”

  “Oh yeah? Watch me.”

  “The last time I checked, you took an oath.”

  “As far as I’m concerned, it’s null and void.” Chase took a step back, intending to get in his car and leave this place forever.

  “We’ll hunt your ass down. You’ll always be lookin’ over your shoulder.”

  “You forgot about my bargainin’ chip. Come after me, and I’ll tell everyone you molested your own daughter. The men in the outfit might be murderers and thugs, but they’d find you disgustin’. There’s a reason prison inmates attack child molesters.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “I would. It’s time I got the fuck out of here and started a new life.”

  And then Chase felt the barrel of a gun slip right between his shoulder blades.

  “Is that right? Well, my .45 might have somethin’ to say about that.” Even though Chase couldn’t see his face, he recognized Harry’s voice.

  Oh shit.

  ***

  Later in the evening, Mary stood on her balcony, trying to talk herself into an insane plan. Staying here was no longer an option.

  Luckily, her room was in the rear of the building, away from the guard tower. She’d changed into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt beneath a black windbreaker, dressed for a stealthy climb.

  Earlier, Mary had raided the emergency funds she’d tucked into her lingerie drawer. Between the stash and the money Tucker had given her before the trip, she had seven hundred dollars, which wasn’t much, but it would get her the heck out of here, which was all she cared about.

  Now, if only I can take the first step.

  The drop was steep and forbidding. The wind whipped around her, blowing hair in her face. It was chilly, too.

  And Mary had an overwhelming fear of heights to contend with and move past.

  This is stupid, Mary. You’re gonna break your neck.

  Nope, I got this.

  All she had to do was drop down on the patio roof below. And then she could hang onto the edge of it and ease herself the last eight feet to the ground.

  Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.

  Her vision tunneled as she stared down at the steep drop. It was hard not to imagine one of those cartoon “splat” noises as she plummeted to the ground below.

  Yeah, I can’t do this.

  Mary closed her eyes, gathering every last bit of courage she possessed. She wanted to run away from this whole mess and start over again, which wasn’t possible if she was trapped like a princess in a tower.

  Hmph, Chase is right, the nickname suits me. What would he do in this situation? Get his butt on the ground, that’s what.

  So stop stalling.

  Unlike Rapunzel, she didn’t have long hair to climb down like a rope, so she’d have to make do with her wits. Mary swung a leg over the rail and stayed there for a bit, eyes closed, getting used to the feeling, as the wind buffeted her body.

  Don’t look down.

  She swung the other leg over and clutched the rail. Now, she had to hold on and lower herself unto the roof.

  I should’ve spent more time in the campus gym.

  Mary reached down and gripped the lower bars and then stepped off the balcony, dangling.

  Her heart pounded, and the blood roared in her ears. The roof was a few feet below her, so she’d have to let go and trust her instincts. Mary hung there for what felt like hours, clinging, afraid to
drop down.

  “I can do this.” She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming and let go with a yelp, landing on the tile, but it was at an incline, so she rolled over the edge. She scrambled, trying to slow her own momentum, but couldn’t.

  There was nothing to grab onto, just smooth tile and she kept sliding, until she hung off the side, dangling over the hard marble below.

  And then two strong arms encircled her waist, holding her tight.

  Unable to help herself, Mary shrieked.

  A hand clamped over her mouth. “Shh, be quiet, I’ve got you. Don’t worry, I ain’t gonna hurt ya.” And then she was set safely on her feet, and the man backed away.

  When Mary turned around, she found herself staring into a familiar face.

  “Hello, Byron.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Oh crap.

  Mary gaped at the mobster because she didn’t know what to say. She’d escaped from one murderer only to end up with another.

  I have the worst luck ever.

  And she had another problem. Mary knew she should be afraid, but she’d known the man her entire life. Familiarity warred with her newfound knowledge of who and what he was.

  Byron Beauregard cocked a disbelieving brow. “And why, may I ask, are you pullin’ a Spider-Man? Is the elevator down?”

  Mary tried to devise a plausible explanation on the spot, but couldn’t think of one. She hesitated, trying to find the right words.

  “Mary?”

  “It’s a long story. Thank you for catchin’ me.”

  “Not a problem.”

  “Good night.” Mary stalked off, intending to get in her car and get out of this place before Byron had a chance to blab.

  “And where might you be going?” Byron followed her to the garage.

  “Away.”

  “Why aren’t you lookin’ at me?”

  “No reason.” Mary kept right on trucking.

  Byron snagged her arm. “Turn around and talk to me.”

  “What do you want?” Mary did and fixed him with a cold glare.

  “Christ Almighty.” He placed his hands on his hips. “What’s wrong with you?”

  She couldn’t play pretend anymore. Mary was tired of all the deceptions.

  “Guess.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You know, dontcha?”

  “Yeah, I do.” Mary tossed her head back, meeting his gaze. “About everything.”