I kneel and look at Darrell, trying not to fucking shoot him in the Goddamn face. “Why the fuck were you talking to my brother?” I demand.
Vaughn is our oldest brother. The only son our father cares to acknowledge. ’Cause he wanted to own slaves. Just like our dad.
He gives a rough laugh. “Because he pays better than you.”
I press the gun to his temple, and he lets out a whimper. Not so fucking tough, are you? “You’re gonna take me to her.”
“She’s already dead.” His head falls to the side. He’s starting to lose consciousness.
I stand, the gun resting against my thigh. “Did you get a location on the phone?”
“Yes. But he could already be on the move …”
I look at Kayn. “Leave him here.” Then I turn my back on them and walk past Tristan. “Where is she?” I demand.
“Vancouver.”
I stop dead in my tracks and turn to face him. “Here?”
He nods. “About twenty minutes out.”
I look at Darrell’s body and then back at Tristan. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why take her and not run? He’s had her for forty-eight hours.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Kayn says. “It could be a trap.”
I run a hand down my face. Think. Vaughn has never been a sane man. Even as a child, he needed help. My mother tried to get it for him before she left us, but my father wouldn’t allow it. He found him and his twisted fucking mind to be perfect.
I look at Tristan. “Call your men.”
He nods. “How many you want?”
“At least ten.” I’m not gonna go in there blind, and I’m also not going to take my men. One of them is currently dying in my warehouse. I can’t trust the others at the moment.
“You’re wasting your time,” Darrell wheezes. Kayn has untied him, and he’s lying on his back next to the chair. “You’re not listening.” He swallows. “She. Is. Dead.” His head falls to the side while he lies in a puddle of his own blood. “Even if you get to her in time … she’ll need …” He coughs, and his body jerks. “Medical attention.”
My chest tightens at his words. He knew exactly what he was doing and still just handed her over.
“Call Lance,” I snap to Tristan. “He can go with us …”
Darrell starts to chuckle roughly and rolls onto his side. “The only men … you can trust … are in this room.” His voice is barely a whisper.
“How do you know that?” Tristan snaps.
His eyes close, and I run over to him. I kick him in the side. “Wake the fuck up!” He doesn’t move.
“He’s lost too much blood.” Kayn sighs. “You’ve killed him.”
Leaning down, I check his neck and I grind my teeth when I feel no pulse. He’s dead. “Motherfucker!” I hiss.
Kayn pulls out his phone. “I have someone. He’s a trauma surgeon. But it’ll cost …”
“Fucking call him! Tell him to meet us back at my house. Then call Marvin and inform him that we are expecting a visitor,” I order, heading toward the door.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
AVERY
IT TOOK US A TOTAL OF AN hour to get all of Tristan’s men rounded up and in position. And in that hour, I have gone from angry to explosive. I can’t quit imagining her lifeless body lying on the ground, looking up at me. I can’t quit thinking of all the horrible ways he could torture her. Her screams as tears run down her face. She’s so fragile. So small. I haven’t made sure she’s eaten well. It wouldn’t take much to break her. And my brother likes to use his fist. He was always a fighter.
“Avery?” A hand lands on my shoulder, and I jump. “We’re ready,” Tristan says; his blue eyes stare into mine with worry while we sit in the back seat of my SUV. He knows I’m probably minutes away from going postal on anyone and everyone. Just then my phone dings that I have a message, and I pull it out. It’s from the last person I thought I’d hear from.
Damon: Call me.
“I don’t have time for this …”
Tristan yanks my phone from my hands and types.
What do you want?
The reply is instant.
Damon: We need to talk.
Tristan throws me back my phone, ignoring his reply, and I pocket it. “I was just curious to see if it had to do with Presleigh,” he adds. And I forget all about it. I’m here on a mission. To save her.
The back of the hatch opens, and I see Kayn placing blankets and bottles of water back there. I had Tristan tell his guys to bring some supplies, not knowing what kind of condition she will be in.
I hate the unknown!
“Let’s go.” I open the door and get out. I look around the property. It’s dark outside. The sun just set on our way here, so I can’t see much. But what I can see is dead grass and trash. Everywhere. We’re walking on it.
“The back is clear, sir.” I hear a guy by the name of Brian in my earpiece.
“Don’t move until I give the go,” Tristan orders him.
“Yes, sir.”
We come up to the house, and there’s no lights coming from within. The once white shutters are now black and rotted. One hangs from its hinges. The paint is an ugly brown that you can tell was once yellow. Windows busted out and shingles missing. It looks like something from a horror movie.
“Are you sure this is it?” I ask Tristan. This doesn’t seem like somewhere our brother would take her. I mean, the fact she was only miles away is a red flag. Then to bring her here. My brother likes expensive mansions and villas. It doesn’t make sense.
“I’m positive,” Tristan answers.
“Take the side,” I tell him, and he takes off around the house. Kayn and I make our way up the old rotted steps.
I walk up the three stairs and see the brown door is cracked. Another bad sign. I place one hand on it, holding the gun raised with the other.
I step in and flip the light switch, but nothing happens. The house is cold and deserted. The floors cracked, walls missing. No furniture or appliances anywhere.
Please be here.
I tiptoe down a hall and come to a door. Turning the knob, I open it. I walk in, gun raised, but it’s clear.
I repeat the process with two more doors, opening all of them.
The last room has two metal tables in it side by side and a big light above one of them. That table has thick leather belt like straps on it, and my jaw tightens as I think of what they did to her while she lay there helpless. The light is also on, so the house obviously has power.
I walk in and over to it, lowering my gun when I see the small room is empty. It smells of disinfectant and blood. It’s smeared all over the table, and I know it’s from her neck. They must have sewn up her cut from the tracker being removed.
Kayn whistles softly, and I turn to look at him still standing by the door. He nods his head to the hallway and mouths someone’s here.
“Standby,” I whisper into the earpiece.
I make my way over to him and continue walking down the hallway, raising my gun once again. I hear a familiar male’s voice, and my jaw tightens. “Yeah, he went out. He should return soon. Yes, sir. I’ll stay until you get back.”
My hand tightens on the gun. Who the fuck is he talking to? And where the fuck is my brother? His phone signal put him here. Has he left since then? Or did he just leave his phone behind? If he left, did he take her with him? She has to be here. If not, I may never find her in time. If she’s not already dead.
I step into the small room. It has a desk in the middle, and that’s all. I watch as the man hangs up his phone and places it on the desk. I walk in with my gun trained at his head. “Where the fuck is she?” I ask Lance. The very man who saved her for me just weeks ago helped take her from me. My jaw tightens.
The only people you can trust are in this room. Fuck, even Darrell knew he was in on it too.
He spins around and comes face to face with the tip of my gun. “Don’t make me ask again.”
“Avery …?�
�
I press the gun into his mouth, cutting off his words when I shove his head back at an odd angle. He mumbles around it, and I pull it out just enough for him to talk. “Downstairs.” He goes to open a drawer in the desk.
“Don’t!” I snap. He may have a gun in there.
He sucks in a breath. “The key. You’re gonna need a key to get into it.”
“Kayn,” I say, and he opens the drawer and hands it to me.
“Last door on the left,” Lance rushes out.
“Who else is here?” I demand.
“No one. Just me.” He shakes his head frantically.
“Put him in a car,” I tell Kayn. I need answers, but I need Bunny more right now. I can torture him later.
I make my way to the last door on the left and see my brother when I descend the five stairs. “It’s locked,” he says, trying to jiggle the handle. “Stand back,” he orders, pointing his gun down at it.
“Stop. I have a key.”
I put it in, and the lock clicks. Pushing the door open, I lift my gun once again, not sure what I will find. At first, I see nothing. It’s too dark. Pitch black. “Bunny?” I call out.
No response.
I blink rapidly to adjust my eyes when I hear my brother enter and come to a stop beside me. That allows a little light to filter in behind us.
The room is cold with concrete walls and floor. Smells just like my cellar—death. “I can’t see anything …” My words trail off when something comes into view, a small frame huddled up in a corner.
I lower my gun and run over to it. The more I’m in the room, the more I smell the blood. My jaw tightens at the thought of my brother making her bleed.
Dropping to my knees, I place my hands on her bare legs. Her skin feels ice cold to the touch just like when I found her in the bathtub.
“Bunny?” I ask softly.
Her knees are pulled to her chest, and her forehead rests on them. Her dark hair is matted and falls over her body. It’s hard to see her because it’s so dark in here. “Is there a light?” I ask Tristan.
“I’m looking …” Seconds later, the room is lit with a single bulb dangling from the middle of the ceiling.
“Bunny?” I ask again, placing my hands on either side of her head and lifting it up. It falls back against the wall, and I shove the hair away from her face. I see her eyes shut. There’s a cut on both her upper and lower lip along with one across her nose. A stream of dark red blood runs down her parted lips to her bare chest.
“Presleigh?” I ask, watching for any kind of response. I get nothing. There’s a big knot on the right side of her head. I pry open her eyelids and find her pupils dilated. “She’s drugged,” I say through clenched teeth.
They kept her sedated.
Fucking bastards.
They’re no different than you!
A part of me hopes she’s been this way the entire time. I don’t want her to remember what happened to her while she was here.
“Goddammit,” my brother hisses.
“What?”
“Her neck.”
“What the …?” I ask, placing my hand on the two-inch-thick steel shackle around her delicate skin.
“She’s tried to get it off,” he observes, seeing the scratch marks that run up and down her neck. The skin is bruised blue and purple. Dried blood covers her bare neck and chest. She has stitches where her tracker was.
“Hang on, Bunny,” I say, panic rising. I remember what she did to herself in the bathtub with that tracker. I can imagine her sitting in here, chained to the wall and screaming while she tries to free herself. Her mind set on it no matter what it cost her. Even if it’s her life.
My hand goes to the back of the collar, and I feel a lock on it. Then a chain. “Hold her head up,” I demand. Tristan places his hands on either side of her head, holding it in place as I push her forward so I can see where it goes. “The chain is bolted to the wall,” I tell him.
“Does that key work?”
I try it. “No,” I snap.
“Fuck!” He growls.
My eyes drop, and I notice her hands are cuffed behind her back. “Fuck!”
“What is it?”
“Her hands are cuffed.” Fuck, Bunny! What did he do to you, baby?
“Motherfucker …”
“Go find out what we need from Lance. Kayn has him in the car.”
He nods and then takes off.
“Av … er … y.” Her broken voice breaks my heart.
I look down to see her eyes are still closed. “I’m here, Bunny.” Her body starts to shake, and she sniffs. “Hey. I’m here. You’re safe now,” I say and hate the words as soon as I say them. She should have been safe the entire time she was with me.
She starts to fight her restraints, and a soft cry comes from her busted lips. I kneel in front of her. “Bunny, look at me,” I say, holding her head again. “Come on, baby. Look at me.”
Her long dark lashes flutter open, showing me a little of her beautiful blue eyes. “That’s it.” They close again.
“We’re all clear,” I hear a voice in my ear.
“Stay alert,” my brother barks out to them.
“Try again, Bunny,” I say gently. “Open them up and look at me.”
They flutter open, but I know she’s not really seeing me because they’re glazed over. She blinks slowly. “That’s it, baby.”
“Got them,” my brother says, returning.
“Hold her head again,” I demand when he hands me the keys. He takes my place kneeling before her while I undo the lock on the back and slip it through the hole and remove it from her neck. Then I undo the cuffs from around her wrists. They’re bruised and covered in dry blood. She fought hard to get free, but it was never going to be enough.
I stand and remove my bulletproof vest, then grab the back of my shirt before ripping it over my head. I look down at her, and her eyes are closed again. Taking the shirt, I place it over her before lifting her up into my arms where she belongs.
“We’ve got her,” Tristan calls out into the earpiece. “Get your shit together and ready to go,” he orders his men.
I carry her out the front door to see Kayn standing outside by my SUV speaking to a few of Tristan’s men. “Where is Lance?” I demand.
“In the back of Jake’s SUV. Knocked out,” Kayn answers.
“Let’s go,” I order.
We all climb in, and Tristan immediately hands me the blanket his men brought for her, and I wrap her up in it.
“Here,” Tristan says, handing me a new bottle of water from the front.
“Drink this, Bunny.” I unscrew the lid. She doesn’t respond. “Bunny, you need to drink …” I shift her in my lap, attempting to wake her, but her head falls back, exposing her delicate neck covered in scratches, bruises, and blood. “Presleigh. Look at me. Come on, baby. I need you to wake up,” I say softly, but she keeps her eyes closed. “Look at me,” I demand this time.
My chest tightens when I get nothing. I drop my forehead down to hers and close my eyes. “I wasn’t too late,” I whisper, reassuring both of us that she isn’t gone. As if that will make it more believable. When my mind is telling me I failed her.
I pull back and readjust my arm under her head. “You need to drink this.” I press the bottle to her lips. Water runs down the side of her face, but some makes it into her mouth. She coughs, and her body jerks from the invasion of water filling her mouth.
Her eyes spring open, and she looks up at me through watery lashes. Eyes still dilated but wide. “Drink, Bunny. I need you to drink.” I press the bottle to her lips again and pour some more into her mouth. She reaches up her right hand and tries to push the bottle away, but she’s too weak. And she isn’t coordinated enough to fight me. I press it to her lips, avoiding her hand, and pour more down her throat. She swallows this time but still coughs as some runs down her face. “Good girl,” I say, handing the bottle to my brother, who is watching us. “That’s enough for now,” I tell
her, running my hand over her matted hair.
She looks up at me, eyes wide in fear. “Av … er … y …”
“It’s me, Bunny,” I say roughly. My throat tightens at the way she choked out my name. “I’ve got you, baby. You’re safe now.”
She shoves her face into my bare chest, and I feel wetness, then her body shakes, and I know she’s silently crying. I hold her tightly, rocking her back and forth.
Thirty minutes later, we pull into my roundabout drive followed by five cars. My brother jumps out and opens the back door for me, and I crawl out with her in my arms. She went back to sleep. And this time, I didn’t try to shove water down her throat or make her open her eyes. I know she’s alive, and that’s enough for now.
“What do you want to do with Lance?” Kayn asks.
“Put him in the cellar,” I order. “I’ll take care of him later.”
PRESLEIGH
Everything hurts! There’s a ringing in my ears. So loud, it’s deafening. The pounding in my head is so hard it’s hard to think. Fuck, it’s hard to breathe. My lips feel swollen and dry. My limbs heavy.
I hear voices, but they’re hard to make out over the ringing in my ears. So much pressure … I moan.
A man’s voice is far off in the distance. I recognize it. Where is it from?
I feel something grab my hand, and I try to pull it away, but I’m too weak. Too slow. Always overpowered.
I’m so cold. I swallow and flinch from the pain. My throat is raw. My tongue too big. I taste blood. A lot of it. The coppery taste overpowers everything else. I’m gonna get sick … I start coughing. The act making my already sore chest worse.
“Bunny?”
Too much pain.
So much blood—the taste being too strong.
My chest starts to heave, saliva building in my mouth mixing with the coppery taste ...
“Sit her up,” someone orders.
Fingers roughly dig into my sensitive shoulders, and I’m yanked upward just as the bile starts to rise. And then I’m vomiting. My body starts to shake uncontrollably while it rejects all it has inside. I can’t stop it. My eyes open and tears sting them, looking into a trash can that sits on my lap. I’m bent over at an odd angle, and my muscles scream in protest.
SLAUGHTER Page 22
