by Jewel, Bella
“This house is spectacular,” I breathe.
“Thank you, it’s over a hundred years old. I purchased it off my grandparents about five years ago.”
“It’s incredible. You’ve really taken care of it.”
“You wait until you see the inside.”
We get out of the car, and I admire the beauty of the home with every step we take, from the stone steps, to the timber patio, to the gorgeous gardens and beautiful green lawn. When Steven opens the door and we step inside, I’m utterly blown away. The walls are the same gorgeous brick as outside, and the floors a deep brown. The furniture is all antique, matching the houses character. There are beautiful old rugs, pictures, chandeliers. Everything you could imagine is in this home.
It’s absolutely stunning.
“Oh, oh my. I feel like I’ve just stepped back a hundred years. This is incredible.”
“Thank you.” Steven smiles, walking into the large living area with a roaring fireplace. “I take a lot of pride in my home.”
“I can tell.”
“Let me show you around, and then I’ll show you my office. It’s quite large, with an incredible view.”
He shows me around the rest of the house, with its eight bedrooms, old ballroom, two dining areas, three living areas, and a kitchen that utterly takes my breath away. When we arrive in his office, I’m completely taken aback at how large it actually is. It’s bigger than my apartment, I’m sure of it. He has a huge timber desk overlooking a large window that showcases his entire garden.
“Oh, wow, I don’t know how you go to work when you have an office like this,” I breathe.
“Believe me, I don’t know either. Please, take a seat. Would you like a drink?”
“Yes, please.”
I take a seat while he goes to his office fridge and gets me a drink. Then, we get down to business. Straight into it. That’s what I like about him. There is no messing around. We work for what seems like hours, until the sun sets and I’m starving. I step away from the laptop to stretch my body.
“Are you hungry?” Steven asks. “I’ll make us some dinner, if you’d like?”
I should get home, but the idea of eating right now is tempting. I’m starving.
“I should get home ...”
“Let me feed you first. I can’t expect you to go home hungry after you’ve been helping me all day. I’ll make something quick and easy.”
“That would be really nice, thank you.”
He smiles at me and stands, stretching out. “Go for a look around the house, by all means. I won’t be too long.”
“I might just do that.”
I flash him another smile and then set off to explore the gorgeous house. Every room I walk into is different, and yet all of them are decked out so historically, they’re utterly beautiful. I see grand pianos, old furniture, book collections and the most exquisite art pieces. I reach a door that is labeled basement, and I find myself hesitating. The note flashes through my mind and, with an outstretched hand, I wonder if I should be looking down there.
It’s not my place to snoop down there.
Yet ... the note has me turning the doorhandle.
It couldn’t hurt to have a quick look. I’ve found nothing else so far—if the basement is clear, then I’ll know the note was nothing and I can free my mind of it.
Feeling better about my logical plan, I twist the knob and walk down to the large basement.
The first thing I see is a massive wine cellar. The biggest I’ve ever seen. Walls and walls of wine bottles. I walk over, in complete awe, and pull out a bottle of wine that is over fifty years old. This is incredible. Large barrels are stacked in the corner and there is a beautiful light that automatically turns on when you walk in there, lighting up the spectacular space.
It’s stunning.
I keep walking around, letting my eyes scan over things a little more than I usually would. Guilt tugs at my chest, mostly because I’m letting my mind get the better of me and I’m looking into someone I don’t honestly believe has anything to do with this. Still, I won’t be able to stop thinking about it if I don’t just look and get it over with. So far, it’s a clean basement. Not a single thing lying around that would indicate anything is off here.
I walk past a pile of old boxes and something catches my eye in between two of them. I lean down, squinting, and shuffle the boxes apart just a little to get a better look. Someone has scratched the wall, deep penetrating scratches that can be seen by the naked eye standing up. I lean in closer, trying to get a better look without having to move the pile of boxes sitting in front of it. I can see a few letters, maybe even a date, but I can’t read what it says.
Dammit.
I glance behind me, and when I don’t see anyone, I very quickly move two of the boxes. They’re heavy and they hurt my very fragile body as I lift and move them. Then I lean in and pull out my phone, taking a quick snap of the writing on the wall. I don’t get a chance to read what it says, because I hear a noise above. Steven is coming. I stand, shoving my phone into my pocket and quickly lifting the boxes and placing them back before rushing back into the wine cellar.
Steven appears a moment later, and I pretend to be staring in awe at the wine once more.
“This is the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen,” I say, acting as if him coming down here was zero surprise at all.
“You like wine?” he asks, seemingly unfazed that I’m down here.
If he was worried, he’d be upset. If he had something to hide, he’d be angry.
He’s neither of those things.
“To be honest, I’m not a huge fan, but this room ...”
“It’s my pride and joy,” he tells me with a smile. “I love coming down here. It’s my favorite place in this whole house.”
I turn to him and rub my stomach. “Something smells amazing.”
It really does, actually. The smell of garlic and something else fills my nose, and my stomach gurgles.
“Come, let me feed you.”
We walk upstairs and into the dining room where he has set out two plates of what looks like a delicious stir-fry. I take a seat and breathe in the incredible smell. “You cook too?” I laugh. “This looks amazing.”
“I don’t cook often,” he admits, flashing me a dazzling smile. “But, this is one dish I can get right. Teriyaki chicken stir-fry. I hope you like it.”
I put my fork in and take a mouthful of the delicious smelling food to find it’s equally as good as it smells. I moan and close my eyes, chewing. When I swallow my first bite, I open my eyes and look to him. He’s smiling at me, a gentle expression on his face. “That’s the best stir-fry I’ve tasted.”
“Thank you.”
We both eat in silence, and when we’re done, I help him clean up the dishes before heading out to my car to get home. He walks me out, and I thank him profusely for letting me come over tonight and learn so much from him.
“I’ll see you in the morning, Zariah. Thank you for your hard work.”
“Thank you for having me,” I beam. “It is such an honor.”
“It’s no trouble at all. You’re incredible to have around.”
Our eyes lock and, in that moment, I know he’s going to kiss me. There is an expression men get on their faces when they are ready to make a move. It’s like a soft, lusty, masculine look that screams their intentions. I take a staggered breath and tell myself to look away so he doesn’t get the wrong idea, but before I can do that, he’s leaning in toward me.
His lips touch mine and, for a moment, I’m stunned.
Not horrified in any way, but stunned.
His lips coax at mine, and I find myself responding even though I know I shouldn’t. He smells great, he’s handsome, and he’s kissing me with a softness I can’t honestly say I’ve felt before. The kiss deepens and our tongues dance together as our kiss goes from being caressing to sexual. His hands slide to my lower back and he pulls me closer, deepening the kiss, pressing
my body to his.
I whimper and pull away before this can go any further.
I can’t risk complicating things with this.
Even though I will admit it feels nice.
Good, even.
My mind flitters to Kendric and the intense way he fucks me. He doesn’t kiss me. He barely touches me. He just takes me and brings me to heights I could never imagine.
Steven wouldn’t fuck like that.
He’s the kind of man who makes love to you. Who showers you with gifts and kindness. Who keeps you safe forever. He’s the man most women want.
Yet that very thing terrifies a woman like me.
“We shouldn’t,” I breathe, looking up at him. “I don’t want to complicate things ...”
“I understand,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky. “I do like you, Zariah.”
“I like you, too.”
“Have a safe drive home.”
He steps away, and I flash him a smile before slipping into my car and starting my drive home.
Well, one thing’s for sure ... That was an incredibly interesting night.
I’M LYING IN MY BED when I remember the photo I took on my phone. By the time I got home, put Jayden to bed, had a shower, and got into my own bed, I had forgotten about the picture. I take my phone from the bedside table and go into my gallery, finding the picture. It’s slightly blurred because it was dark where I was, but I pinch the screen and zoom in anyway. What I see has shivers running down my spine. I didn’t get the chance to read what was on the wall. I simply took a picture and then had to quickly put the boxes back.
I didn’t expect what I am seeing now.
On the wall, scratched in deeply, is a name, date, and a small piece of writing.
The name is Sophia Retland, the date is about three years ago, and the small piece of writing says, “I’ve been in here three years. He’ll never let me go. I will die here.”
My heart launches into my throat, and I feel sick.
I put my phone down and sit upright in bed, clutching my chest, fear, confusion and panic settling into my body.
Maybe this isn’t what it seems. Maybe it was there before he purchased the house. When did he say he purchased it? Five years ago. He said five years ago. No, this can’t be happening. Maybe it’s a misunderstanding. Maybe it’s got nothing to do with him being involved in capturing and selling girls. There was nothing else in his house to indicate that. Nothing at all.
This has to be a mistake.
It has to be.
My head spins as I zoom in and out of the picture, certain I must be seeing things. Deep down, I know I’m not. I know that this doesn’t have another explanation. What other explanation could there be? Someone was stuck down in that basement, locked away from the world. They put that on the wall so maybe, just maybe, someone would find it. Someone would know. Does Steven even know it’s there? Or has he got those boxes in front of it for a reason?
If I wasn’t looking as hard as I was, I wouldn’t have noticed it.
Anyone just walking through that basement would never notice, because they wouldn’t be looking. I was searching the walls, looking for clues.
I stumbled across that by chance.
I pick up my phone, my hands trembling. So many things are running through my mind right now. This man is quite possibly the most dangerous person I’ve ever met, mostly because he feels like he’s the safest, which means he absolutely is not. That thought is terrifying. None of it makes sense to me. Why would he risk so much, to do illegal things? His whole world is based around bringing down criminals.
Why would he do this?
I don’t understand.
Alarick was right, though. He’s the only one I can go to with this information now. The club will be the only people that might help. Before I call him, though, I search Sophia’s name on Google. Her picture comes up immediately as a missing person. She went missing about a month before the date on the wall, and to this day, she is still missing. Her family has quite a large reward on offer for her safe return.
She wasn’t a junkie from the streets with a bad life.
This girl looked loved.
She has a family that want her home.
Whoever took her, they did it for personal reasons. There is no way she was just taken and sold—no way. The whole idea of what they do is to take girls with no family, no friends, and no life so that nobody tracks them down. Was Sophia a mistake? Was she someone they thought didn’t have a family? Why did they take her? Why was she different? I don’t understand.
My mind is absolutely spinning.
I dial Alarick.
It’s late, but I don’t care.
“Zariah,” he answers, his voice groggy.
“I need to see you. Right now.”
“What happened?”
“I just need to see you. I’ll meet you at the club in ten minutes.”
I hang up the phone, get out of bed, and change from my pajamas. I go into Jayden’s room, saddened that I have to wake him up, but I need to go see Alarick now. Luckily for me, when I walk in, he’s awake and sitting in his bed. Jayden is a night owl and often plays for a good few hours before falling asleep. He never cries, or screams, he just sits happily.
He’s quite an incredible child.
“Hey, buddy,” I say, walking in and lifting him out of his bed. “Want to go for a ride in the car?”
“Car!” he cries happily, leaning down for his toy truck.
I carry him to the car and put him in, then I make my way to the club. I arrive about fifteen minutes later and see the lights are on and there are quite a few people still up. I don’t love the idea of taking Jayden in here, but I have no choice. I get out of the car, hold Jayden’s hand, and walk into the clubhouse. We get stopped quite a lot walking through the living area, and Jayden loves the attention he receives.
We reach Alarick’s office, and I open the door, stepping inside to see he is already here with Briella, Samson, Cohen, Bohdi and, of course, Kendric. I didn’t ask him to invite half the club, but I also don’t have time to worry about it. Briella looks at Jayden and her eyes light up. “Aww, you brought him. Hey, little man.”
He goes over to her, his little face lighting up. He likes Briella, and she adores him. She picks him up and tells me she’ll take him for a walk so I can talk to Alarick. When she’s gone, I turn to the group and exhale slowly, then I take in a deep breath and tell them what I found tonight. “You were all right. Steven is involved. I found something on his wall in the basement tonight.”
I pull out my phone, going to the picture, and I hand it to Alarick. Everyone gathers around him and, as he zooms in, his eyes widen. He shows the other guys and then looks up at me. “This was in his house?”
“Yes,” I say softly. “In his basement, scratched onto a wall. It was hidden behind some old boxes. I wouldn’t have found it if I wasn’t looking. But ... I found a note in his car today and I just needed to check to make sure he wasn’t involved. I truly didn’t think he was and ...”
Alarick glances at the phone again, and then looks to Cohen. “I fuckin’ knew it.”
“What do we do now?” Cohen asks, all of our eyes on Alarick.
“Fuck. Fuck. This is huge. We have our in, he trusts Zariah. The only problem is gettin’ the info we need. If we fuck this up again ...”
“I go to fuckin’ prison,” Kendric murmurs.
I nod. “We’re not going to stuff this up, we’re going to figure it out, but we can’t do it right now. I just had to show you.”
“Write down his address, we might be able to find somethin’ now we know where he lives,” Alarick suggests.
I nod and walk over to the desk, taking a piece of paper and a pen. As I’m scribbling the address, I notice some handwritten notes scattered on Alarick’s desk. Notes with a very familiar style. I pick one up and glance at it. It’s written in the same handwriting as the note I found in Steven’s car earlier. I spin around, holding the paper u
p. “You left the note in his car?”
Alarick, who is talking to Samson, turns to me and his eyes fall on mine. He looks to the note, and then back to me again.
“You’re in on this,” I whisper. “All along, it has been you ...”
My heart is racing as I toss the note down, backing up, glancing at them all. Do I know any of these men? Why else would that note be in Steven’s car, in Alarick’s handwriting, if they didn’t have something to do with this? Is it all a set up?
“Zariah, it’s not what you think. We’re not workin’ with him.”
“Then tell my why that note was in the car!” I yell, my hand flinching toward a gun that isn’t there because I’m not in uniform.
“I put it there,” Kendric says, his voice hard. “I put it there because you didn’t believe us. You refused to look into Blanche and we were runnin’ out of time. We knew if you saw that note, it would put doubt into your mind and all it would take was for your cop brain to kick in and you’d start snooping. We were right.”
I feel like my whole world is spinning, like I’ve been slapped in the face over and over again. They used me. They set me up. They didn’t trust that I could get them out of this, so they used me to get what they wanted. Kendric, who has been fucking me, was going behind my back the entire time.
“You set me up?” I whisper, my heart aching, my whole world spinning.
“Not tryin’ to hurt you, Zariah,” Alarick tells me. “We were runnin’ out of time, as Kendric said.”
“You don’t trust me?” I say, my voice coming out angry.
“We do fuckin’ trust you,” Samson pipes in now. “But you’re a fuckin’ cop and you weren’t willin’ to look into one of your own, even though they’ve been behind all of this. We had no choice.”
“You could have let me do it my way!” I cry. “I was getting closer!”
“Too slowly,” Kendric says, his voice tight.
I look to him, so hurt. “You were using me.”
His eyes hold mine. His face is hard. “Never claimed I wasn’t.”
His words are crushing, they feel like a knife to my soul. Of course he was using me. He wanted me to trust him enough to let him in on my plans. Without them, they wouldn’t have been able to plant that note and get me to do their dirty work for them. They were never on my side, that much is crystal clear.
