by Cat Mason
“Not now, Chief,” I bite out, starting for the gates. I stop cold when I see Hoss’s lifeless body in a puddle of his own blood.
“She’s gone.” Whipping around at his words, I meet his eyes. “Got Cheyenne in the back of my squad car. She’s pretty roughed up. Stupid fucker had her tied up and locked in the kitchen pantry. Damn near took out Kennedy’s truck when he blew out of the lot with Roanne. I’ve put an A.P.B. out for Troy.”
“D.A. did this?” I ask, my teeth grinding together painfully. My hands shake at my sides, itching to find the bastard so I can wrap them around the motherfucker’s throat and rip his fucking head off.
“I know that asshole’s truck,” Jace says, stomping over angrily. “Burned out of here like a bat outta hell. He was too busy shovin’ that bitch around he had in the cab with him to watch the fuckin’ road.”
My boot connects with Jace’s stomach, sending him to the ground hard. “Watch your fuckin’ mouth, asshole,” I warn, pulling my gun and aiming at his head. All the pent up rage I feel is being taken out on this teenage prick. And I am fine with that shit. “Callin’ a man’s Ol’ lady a bitch will get you killed.”
“I’m sorry.” Holding up his hands, his eyes widen frantically. “I’m sorry.”
“Goddammit, Stone,” McKelvy roars. “Put it away. This doesn’t solve shit.”
“Don’t be sorry, dickhead. Be helpful,” Doc barks from behind me. He must have been following me closer than I thought. Not like I was paying attention to being followed. All I can think about is Roanne and how badly this entire situation has gone tonight. Coming to stand beside me, he crosses his arms over his chest. “Which way did they go?”
“How long ago?” I ask, shoving the gun back into my holster.
“That way,” Jace points, his hands shaking as he gestures in the direction we just came. “About fifteen or twenty minutes. I don’t know. Hell, I wasn’t even gonna call it in.” He swallows hard. “Until I saw him,” he finishes, pointing at Hoss.
“Why the fuck is my daughter in the back of your goddamn car, Pig?” Doc growls, his eyes shooting to the chief.
Doc doesn’t wait for an answer. Storming over, he yanks open the backdoor. Climbing out, Shy immediately throws herself into her father’s arms, sobbing uncontrollably into his chest.“He hurt you?” Not waiting for her answer, he tips up her chin with his hand, his face hardening as he checks her over. Releasing his hold on her face, he wraps his arms around her, pulling her close. Looking at me, his jaw ticks angrily. “When we find that worthless motherfuckin’ traitor,” he grinds out, rage filling his dark eyes. “The bullet that ends him is mine.”
“Once Roanne is safe, he’s dead,” I reply, nodding my head. Yanking the phone from my pocket, I scroll through the contacts to find what I need. “For now, take care of Shy. I’ve got a call to make.”
Chapter Eighteen
Roanne
Everything hurts.
My body, my head, and most importantly, my heart. Hoss is dead. The sight of him being shot down by D.A. while trying to save me is all I see when I close my eyes. My ears are filled with Shy’s screams.
We were betrayed by a man who all of us trusted.
We didn’t see the monster hiding behind the smile until it was too late.
Lying on the cold concrete floor, with my wrists bound in front of me, I stare up at the small cardboard covered window. I silently will it to fall so that I can at least have some sort of ability to keep up with how much time passes.
The room is so dark, so eerily quiet. The only sound, other than my shaky breathing, is the near constant dripping of, what I am almost sure is, a leaky pipe on the other side of the room. I drift in and out of consciousness, woken by nightmares and the throbbing pain slicing through my body.
I play back everything that happened a million times in my head. D.A. came into the kitchen while Shy and I were trying to distract ourselves by cleaning up. He said it was over. That Wright was dead and my father was alive, but hurt. Jensen needed him to bring me to the hospital immediately.
When Shy challenged him and started asking questions, D.A. became violent. She didn’t buy his story for a minute and knew that Jensen would have come back here to tell me himself. Smacking her hard across the face, he knocked her into the cabinets, her body crashing to the floor. When I started to run, he pulled his gun, then proceeded to kick and scream at her until she stopped moving. Dragging Shy into the pantry by her hair, he forced me to tie her up. Then, he turned his frustrations out on me before binding my wrists and dragging me out to his truck.
I stiffen when I hear the door open. Light shines into the room, illuminating D.A.’s broad shoulders as he enters the room wearing a red t-shirt and a pair of black sweat pants with sneakers. His leather gone. “Mornin’,” he says, flipping on the light. “Sleep well?”
“Why are you doing this?” I blurt, trying to sit up as he moves toward me. “What have you done with my father, D.A.?”
“My name is Troy,” he barks, rearing back his fist. I wince, bracing myself. “I’m gonna let you in on a little secret about D.A.,” he laughs. “Those two letters stand for Dumbass. That name was given to me because they saw me as a fuckin’ joke. I’ve made serious cash for the club. Turned our parts business into something great that keeps the heat off those less than legal activities. And for what? So that some spoiled, rich boy with a chip on his shoulder can hold the gavel and pad his pockets with loads of cash he doesn’t even goddamn need, while I do his bidding? No fuckin’ way, Sweetheart. My loyalties no longer reside with Mayhem. Or Stone.” Grabbing a metal folding chair from the corner, he yanks it to the center of the room. Gripping my arms, he hoists me off the ground and plants me down so hard in the chair that I bite my tongue. Leaning down, he glares into my eyes. The once smiling face and easy going attitude are gone, replaced with hatred and disgust. “As for dear ol’ daddy, you’ll get your answers soon enough,” he adds, tapping the tip of my nose with his index finger. “That’s not my story to tell.”
“And Cheyenne?” I ask, shifting in the chair. “What about your loyalty to her?”
The back of his hand cracks hard across my face, knocking me from the chair. Slamming me onto my side on the concrete, the breath rushes from my body, making me heave. “That’s enough of your goddamn questions, bitch,” he barks, yanking me to my feet by my hair. Tears spring to my eyes, but I push them back, determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry.
“Let her go, Troy. You were told to make her comfortable. Not beat her bloody.”
My eyes snap to the door the moment I hear the familiar voice. Stepping into the room, Agent Laswell moves toward us, carrying a tray of food. As usual, he is in a black suit, though his blonde hair is damp and ruffled. Troy releases me, letting me fall to my knees on the hard, unforgiving floor. “You,” I blurt, my eyes widening in shock.
“Go back upstairs and wait for the others to arrive,” Laswell barks to Troy. Placing the tray down on a square wooden table in the corner, he stares him down. “That wasn’t a request.”
Huffing out a frustrated breath, Troy storms out of the room. “Sorry about that.” Moving toward me, Agent Laswell helps me to my feet. Guiding me to the table, he helps me to sit in the other chair before retrieving the other in the center of the room for himself. “Please, call me Richard,” he says, brushing the hair from my face. Sitting beside me, he removes the plastic top from a to-go coffee cup and begins adding cream and sugar. “You brought this on yourself, you know.”
“Brought what on?” I ask, shaking my head. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”
“I warned you something like this would happen, but you wouldn’t listen.” Stirring the coffee with a spoon from the tray, he replaces the lid snugly before placing it down in front of me. “I’m sorry it’s come to this. You don’t belong down here. You’re not like them, Roanne. I know that.”
“Not like who?” I ask, nervously.
“You should eat,
” he replies, his eyes softening as he begins untying my hands. Leaning over, he presses a kiss to my cheek and covers my hands with one of his own. “We don’t have much time.”
“Don’t fucking touch me,” I snap, yanking my hands away and turning my face. “I’m not hungry. I want answers.”
My knee bumps the table, the cup falling, spilling coffee all over the floor and his shoes. His expression changes, the look in his eyes becoming cold and hard. Pushing from the chair, he turns for the door. “I can assure you any demands you make will fall on deaf ears, Roanne. You’ll learn quickly exactly how little power you have.”
The door slams hard, the sound of the lock echoing in my ears. “Ugh!” I scream, shoving the tray, sending it crashing to the floor. Tears flood my eyes, spilling over onto my cheeks.
Pushing to my feet, I move toward the window, dragging the chair along with me. Carefully, I step up onto the seat and grab onto the metal lever on the window to steady myself. Pulling the cardboard out of my way, I place it on the chair and swipe at the filthy window until there is a spot clean enough to see through.
Troy’s truck sits in the same place he parked it last night, before he drug me down here and locked me away in this damn room. Another car, that I assume belongs to Richard, is now parked beside it. Turning the lever, I attempt to open the window. Though I doubt I can squeeze through it, that doesn’t mean I don’t plan to try. The window creaks and cracks, popping open about two inches before the lever seizes up. “Come on. Come on,” I plead, as if begging will help. Pushing against the wooden pane, I jerk on the lever again, trying to free it up, but it doesn’t budge.
Shit.
Looking up, I spot a large, black SUV barreling up the road toward the house. It skids to a stop, gravel and dust flying up into the air. The front door slams above me, then I hear two sets of heavy feet on the steps. Troy and Richard walk out to meet the vehicle as the doors open. Climbing out of the passenger side is a woman wearing tall, red heels and a long black jacket, her face veiled by her long black hair.
Her hips sway as she walks up to Troy, followed by a short man in a black suit and sunglasses. Grabbing her face, Troy slams his mouth to hers. His hand goes to her ass, lifting her off her feet and pulling her tightly into his body. Her arms wrap around his neck as he damn near mauls her face. My eyes widen in shock. In complete disbelief, I am unable to look away as they basically dry hump each other in the middle of the yard in front of the two other men.
“As much as I know Jensen will want to kill you himself,” I mutter, shaking my head. “I really hope he lets Shy cut your balls off first, asshole.”
Eventually, they break apart. Troy carefully eases the woman to her feet. Wrapping an arm around her, they disappear from view just as I hear feet on the steps again. Fuck. As quickly as I can, I grab the cardboard and fit it back into the window, causing the room to darken substantially. Easing myself back to the floor, I move the chair back to the table and sit. Closing my eyes, I breathe deeply, willing myself to calm down before someone comes back down here.
When the door unlocks and swings open again, I freeze, wondering who it will be coming in this time. Richard steps into the room, his eyes dropping to the spilled tray of food scattered across the floor. Shaking his head, he sighs. “Here.” Pulling a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket, he holds them out to me. “Put these on.”
“Fuck you,” I spit, glaring at him. “You tried so damn hard to put everything on Jensen and the club. On me. This whole fucking time you knew exactly where my dad was.”
“Wrong.” Slamming the cuffs down on the table in front of me, he leans in close. “I tried to protect you. You refused to see the kind of shit you got yourself involved with. You’re blind to everything going on around you.” Leaning back, he blows out a breath. “If you want answers, you’ll do what I tell you. It wouldn’t be smart to make an enemy of your only ally in this house.”
I hesitate. There is no doubt in my mind that he could overpower me and put the damn things on my wrists himself. But he doesn’t. Looking up into his eyes, I try to get a read on him.
“Fine.” Shrugging his shoulders, he turns his back to me. “I’ll go tell your father you’ve refused to see him.”
“Wait!” I shout, pushing to my feet. Reaching out, I grab his arm. “He’s here?”
“Yes,” he replies, coolly. Stepping out of my reach, he shoots me a frigid look over his shoulder. “And you’re making him wait.”
Grabbing the cuffs from the table, I put them on quickly. Stopping at the door, he gestures for me to go ahead of him. Nodding, I blow out a breath and do as instructed. His hand presses into my lower back as he guides me around the stairs to another door. “Open it,” he commands, nudging me.
My hands shake as I wrap my fingers around the knob and turn it. Fear coursing through my veins. I am terrified that I am about to walk in and see my father’s dead body lying on the ground. Having been here as long as I have, how have I not heard him?
The second my father’s body comes into view, my heart leaps into my chest. Head bowed, he sits, tied to a chair in the middle of the room. He has been beaten nearly beyond recognition, his face swollen and bloody. “Dad,” I choke out, covering my mouth with my hands. Going to him, I drop to my knees. “Daddy, it’s me.”
His eyes flutter open, widening when they land on me. “No,” he breathes, his voice small, sounding nothing like my father. “Not my sweet girl.” Looking over my shoulder, he shakes his head. “She isn’t part of this, Rich.”
“Of course she is,” Troy says stepping into the room, dragging a sobbing Olivia with him. The clothes she is wearing are covered in dirt and blood, her face puffy and bruised. Dragging Olivia over to the far wall, he shoves her to the ground, laughing when she whimpers. Turning his attention to me, Troy gives me a wink. “You’re next, Sweetheart.”
“No,” Dad grunts, lifting his head. “Don’t fucking touch her.”
“Don’t think you’re in a position to argue, old man,” Troy challenges, grabbing me by the back of the neck and yanking me to my feet. “I can do whatever the hell I want and there’s fuck all you can do about it,” he taunts. Wrapping his hand around my throat, he squeezes tightly as his other hand cups my breast through my shirt. My hands fly up, clawing at his forearm and wrist while trying to drag air into my lungs
“My daughter did nothing wrong,” my father argues. “She’s innocent.
“She’s far from innocent, Alfred,” a female voice purrs from behind us. High heels tap over the concrete floor. “Troy, that’s enough, baby. I didn’t bring her here for that.”
Releasing his hold on me, Troy shoves me into the wall, the force of the impact sending me to the floor. Rolling to my side, I pull my knees into my chest, biting back the whimper I refuse to let him hear. Jensen’s words echo in my head, almost as if he were here saying them to me now.
“There are two kinds of people in this world. Those filled with fear and those filled with fight. You are your father’s daughter. You push back. Always have. That sets you apart from the weak in this world, Roanne. You don’t have it in you to be beaten down.”
“I’ll give you anything you want, Ivy,” Dad pleads. “Let the women go.”
Ivy laughs. “The only thing I want, you can’t give me.” Walking over to a small table in the corner, she begins unpacking things from a black leather bag. “Because you took it.”
“I’m sorry, Ro,” Dad says, sounding broken. “I’m so sorry, my sweet girl. This is all my fault.”
“I’m okay,” I breathe, pushing up to my knees. “I can take it.”
She laughs again. “We’ll see about that, Mouse.”
Turning to face me, she flashes a million-dollar smile. “Miracle?” I ask in disbelief, blinking several times.
The woman standing before me now looks nothing like the flashy skank that cornered me in the clubhouse. Her once beach blonde hair is now jet black. The trashy clothes and slutty heels she wore, now re
placed with jeans and a blue sweater. Her eyes, though now a deep gray, are still cold and calculating, filled with hate as she stares me down.
“Ivy, actually,” she corrects me. “Ivy Vaughn.”
“Her father worked for Xander and I years ago,” Dad adds, glancing over at me.
“George,” I blurt, nodding in acknowledgement. “He killed Jensen’s parents.” My father’s eyes widen as the words tumble from my lips. “I found paperwork in the basement,” I shrug.
“Lies!” Ivy screams, pointing at me with a knife. “All lies from an evil man, hell bent on covering his own ass. No matter the cost. Your father is a monster.” Walking over to my father, she grabs a fist full of his hair and places the blade to his throat. Dad gasps while Olivia wails loudly. My heart stutters in my chest. “It’s time you come clean, Alfred. You and your whore are going to tell everyone exactly how you set up my father. Then, I’m going to kill you while your daughter watches.”
“You’ve got it all wrong, Ivy,” my father grunts. “Xander had proof. You’ve seen it.”
“I’ve seen a stack of bullshit photocopies!” she screams, releasing her hold on him. “None of that paperwork, you sent my men, prove anything.”
“Face it, Ivy. You’re getting nowhere with him. You’ve beat the man bloody every fucking day since he got here,” Richard says, throwing up his hands. “Roanne didn’t know anything about this shit. What the hell makes you think he’s instantly going to admit it now?” he asks, gesturing to me. “Bringing my mother here sure as shit didn’t shake him.”
My jaw drops. Olivia is Richard’s mother? Bits of information begin clicking together in my head like pieces of a puzzle, the picture starting to become clear. He must have been the one who took the photo of them I found when we went to see her. Did he really help kidnap his own mother? All the while he has been spinning all of this shit to look like somehow we were behind it all from the jump.
How did he manage to keep that from McKelvy and the others? There is no way any law agency would assign an agent to investigate his own mother’s disappearance.
