Ash hid his grimace. Some other time he might have found the club interesting, but now there was only one thing he cared about.
“Where’s Remi?” he demanded again, moving quickly toward an open doorway.
Liza called out something, but he didn’t hear. He was busy finding the switch to turn on the light. Then he made a strangled sound as he gazed around the smaller room. He assumed he’d become numb after all the shocks he’d endured, but he discovered he was still capable of feeling as if he’d been kicked in the head.
The room was an exact duplicate of Remi’s bedroom. Not similar. Not faintly akin. It was a perfect match. Hell, it even smelled like her room. Not perfume, but a fresh, clean soap.
The only thing missing was Remi.
“Christ,” he breathed.
“Money can accomplish whatever you desire,” Liza drawled.
He swiveled around to regard the woman with a bizarre sense of disbelief. Had he fallen asleep and was he having some weird dream? That’s what it felt like.
“Why would you have Remi’s room put down here?” he demanded.
The older woman scowled at him. “You know why.”
“No, I truly don’t.”
She made a sound of impatience. “Because of the disease, of course.”
“Disease?” Ash frowned. Had he misheard? “What disease?”
She gave a sharp motion with her hand, leading him across the room toward a mahogany door set in the paneling. She reached out to pull it open, revealing a small closet.
“It started here,” she said.
Ash’s confusion only deepened. Had Liza gone completely crazy? It seemed more than a little likely. “What started?”
Her gaze skimmed over the club, her expression becoming distant as she conjured up old memories. The gun, however, remained squarely aimed at Ash.
“My father refused to let me play down here,” she told him, her voice fond as she spoke of her parent. “So of course I snuck down whenever I could escape from my nanny.”
Ash clenched his teeth, fiercely trying to pretend he gave a crap about the words coming out of her mouth. Inside, his heart was screaming with the need to escape from the suffocating tunnels and find Remi.
“Was it still a club?” he forced himself to ask.
She shrugged. “My father occasionally had parties down here. Mostly, he used it to conduct his business.”
“And the closet?” He tried to steer her to the point of her reminiscing.
“One morning I was playing down here, and I heard my father approaching.” Her hand smoothed over the wood of the door. “I didn’t want to get in trouble, so I hid in here.”
“Did he find you?”
“No.” A flush crawled beneath her skin. “He was preoccupied with his visitor. They were arguing about an overdue debt. I was only nine or ten at the time, but I knew it was a mistake. My father didn’t like when people refused to pay the money they owed him.”
Ash grimaced. “I can imagine.”
She ignored his dry words, lost in her memory. “They continued to argue, and it was hot and stuffy in the closet, so I decided to crack open the door.” She paused, a visible shudder shaking her body. “That’s when I saw.”
Ash’s preoccupied attention was captured by the strange quiver in Liza’s voice. It was a mixture of fear and acute excitement. He’d heard it once before. Just before the perp he was chasing threw himself in front of a speeding bus.
“Saw what?”
“My father.” Her eyes reflected the light from the chandeliers. “He grabbed a knife from the bar and stabbed it in the man’s heart.”
Ash’s breath hissed between his teeth. He’d known Remi’s grandfather wasn’t a saint, but he hadn’t been prepared to hear he was a cold-blooded killer.
“Christ.”
“I closed the door and waited until my dad’s men had taken away the body,” Liza continued. “Then I crept back to my room.”
Ash felt an unexpected flare of pity. No young child should witness their father committing such a heinous act of violence. It had to screw with their mind.
Was that the reason Liza was unbalanced? It was as good an answer as any.
He took a furtive step forward. It wasn’t that he wanted to be closer to the woman. In truth, he felt as if he was being shrouded in evil as he neared her. But if worse came to worst, he intended to shove her into the closet and escape before she could shoot him in any vital organ.
Not his best plan, but the only one he had at the moment.
“You didn’t tell anyone?”
She sent him a confused glance. “Of course not. I wanted to see it happen again.”
He couldn’t disguise his horror. “A murder?”
“Punishment. Death. Blood.” A dreamy pleasure softened her features. “It became a game to try to sneak down here so I could see my dad deal with his enemies.”
Ash’s stomach heaved, and for a second he was afraid he might vomit. He’d spent years dealing with hardened killers, many of them completely unrepentant after they’d taken the life of another.
But none of them had savored the murders.
“How many people did he kill?”
Liza shrugged. “Only a few. He usually allowed his bodyguards to convince his guests to pay their debts.”
Ash gave a slow shake of his head, trying to imagine a young Liza hiding in the closet as her father’s goons beat the shit out of someone. Or worse, her father sticking a knife in their heart.
“I’m sorry you had to see that.”
Her pleasure drained away, leaving her face pale. “It . . . damaged me. At least that’s what my mother claimed when she caught me down here,” Liza admitted. “She insisted my father take me to a hospital in New York. They gave me medication to make me better.”
Ash was caught off guard. He’d somehow expected Liza’s parents to be indifferent to her sick fascination with death. But at least her mother obviously realized they needed to do something extreme to help her daughter.
“Did you get better?” he asked.
“For a while,” she said, a wistful smile touching her lips. “I came back to Chicago and eventually fell in love with Gage. He . . .” She took a second to consider her words. “He centered me,” she finally said. “When we were together, I felt safe. The darkness couldn’t find me.”
A horrified fear suddenly flared through Ash. “Did Gage know?”
“There was nothing to know,” Liza snapped, as if she was offended by his question. “I was fine. At least until the baby.”
“Remi?”
Anger rippled over the woman’s face. “I didn’t want children,” she rasped. “I think I knew deep inside that I was too fragile for motherhood.”
His brief sense of sympathy for this woman was erased by her petulant words. “So why did you get pregnant?”
“To please Gage.” Her voice dripped with a bitterness that would poison any soul. “He wouldn’t admit how desperately he wanted a child, but I could sense his yearning. I wasn’t enough for him. I’d lost my father. I couldn’t lose my husband. So I gave him a daughter.”
Ash shuddered. He was getting a glimpse of Liza’s twisted brain. It wasn’t pretty. First had been the trauma of witnessing her father’s brutality. Then God only knew what cocktail of drugs the doctors had shoved down her throat in the institution. And then the jealousy of her own daughter.
It had all combined into a toxic brew.
Ash’s mouth went dry, a slow certainty growing in the center of his being.
“Gage loved Remi very much,” he managed to mutter.
Liza’s face twisted, the fevered glitter in her eyes intensifying as she allowed the thought of her daughter to work her into a rage. “He called her a precious gift.”
“She was a gift,” Ash insisted, taking another small step forward. He was going to have to do something quickly. The woman was about to snap. “For all of us.”
“Not all of us.” Liza lifted the
gun until it was pointed directly at Ash’s face. “She brought back the cravings.”
Ash tensed his muscles, preparing to attack. “The cravings for what?”
The woman released a laugh that sounded like something straight out of a horror flick. “Blood. Death.”
“You’re the Butcher,” he breathed.
She smiled with a sick pride. “I am.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Remi hadn’t intended to drive past her mother’s estate on her way to the restaurant. Not only was it out of her way, but she didn’t want Ash to know just how worried she was about him.
He was a big boy who could take care of himself, she’d whispered over and over. But somehow, her car kept making turns toward the street that ran along the side of the estate. As if it had a mind of its own.
As she slowed, however, her attention was distracted by the sight of her mother scurrying along the sidewalk with her head down and a large purse clutched in her hands.
Remi frowned. Had her mother’s car broken down? No. If there was something wrong with the BMW, she would have called Albert and waited for him to come to pick her up. It wouldn’t matter if she was ten miles away or a block.
What was going on?
She pulled to a halt next to the curb and put the car in Park. Then, swiveling in her seat, she managed to catch sight of her mother disappearing through the hedge.
A strange sensation crawled over her skin. Was it a reaction to the knowledge her mother was going to be pissed if she caught Ash sneaking around the house while she was gone? Or a premonition?
Without giving herself time to consider the wisdom of her urge to follow her mother, Remi switched off the motor and climbed out of her car. She barely noticed the snowflakes that were drifting from the low-hanging clouds. She was too intent on listening to the fading sound of Liza’s footsteps.
Picking up her pace, Remi wiggled through the opening in the hedge. Once in the backyard, her gaze tracked her mother as she hurried across the frozen ground. For once, the older woman wasn’t wearing the designer heels she adored. In fact, she had on a pair of rubber boots that Remi had never seen before. Odd. Really odd.
Expecting Liza to head for the mansion, Remi halted when her mother instead crossed directly toward the garage. Maybe there was something wrong with her car.
Remi hurried to the back of the garage as her mother entered through the front door. Then she pulled out her cell phone and pressed Ash’s number.
“Pick up, pick up,” she muttered.
Of course it went directly to voice mail. Did he have it turned off? She cursed, dropping the phone back into the pocket of her coat. She had to distract her mother.
Taking a step toward the corner of the garage, Remi fell to her knees as the silence was abruptly shattered by the blast of a gun.
She crouched low, her sluggish brain trying to process what was happening. Had the shot come from inside the garage? Yes. It’d been too loud to have come from the house.
Oh, God. Her mother. Scrambling on all fours over the frozen ground, Remi cautiously lifted herself upright. Then, barely daring to breathe, she leaned to the side to peer through the window. It took a couple of seconds for her eyes to focus. And even after she could see, she struggled to figure out what was going on.
There was a man lying on the ground. But he was too short and bulky to be Ash. Then his head flopped to the side and she jerked with shock. Albert. And next to him, her mother was standing over him, staring down with a strange expression.
Remi frowned in confusion. Had Albert accidentally shot himself?
The thought had barely managed to form before the older woman took a step back, and the purse she had slung over one shoulder swung aside to reveal that she was holding something in her hand. Something that looked like a . . .
Gun.
Remi pressed a hand to her mouth, watching as her mother entered the large safe that was open. Then, before she could wrap her mind around the fact that Albert was injured and her mother was seemingly doing nothing to help him, the older woman reappeared.
Deep inside, Remi knew she should be dumbfounded by the sight of her mother calmly walking past the possibly dying Albert with a gun in her hand. It was unthinkable. As if she was peering into a bizarro world.
Instead, a strange certainty settled in the center of her soul.
Her mother had pulled the trigger.
Remi’s stomach twisted into a tight knot, autopilot taking over as Liza headed for the door of the garage. Crouching down, Remi listened to the crunch of her mother’s footsteps. Where was she going? It wasn’t toward the mansion. She could hear the boots squeaking against the tiles around the pool.
The pool house?
Not bothering to try to figure out what the woman was up to, Remi hurried in the opposite direction. Darting around the corner of the garage, she pushed open the door.
She paused, forcing herself to glance around before stepping inside. She still wasn’t sure exactly what was happening. Or if there was someone else running around the estate. She couldn’t help Ash if she stumbled into a trap.
Once convinced there was no one hiding in the shadows, she entered and rushed toward the body on the floor. At the same time, she pulled the phone from her pocket and dialed 911, demanding an ambulance and as many cops as they could send. Then she crouched next to Albert and reached out her hand to place it against his throat.
“Please be alive, Albert,” she whispered.
Her fingers pressed against his skin, relieved to discover it was warm. That was a good sign, wasn’t it? She was concentrating fiercely, trying to feel for a pulse, when his head turned and, without warning, his eyes opened.
Remi barely managed to swallow her startled scream. “Oh thank God,” she rasped. “Hang on, Albert, the ambulance is on its way.”
His lips parted, blood dribbling down his chin as he tried to speak.
She’d known Albert most of her life. He’d treated her like she was his daughter. Now his face was a terrible shade of gray and blood was leaking from a gaping wound in the center of his chest.
It didn’t seem possible he could survive, but she grimly held on to hope.
“No, save your strength,” Remi pleaded, her hand moving to smooth back his hair.
He held her gaze, finally managing to force out one word. “Marcel.”
“Do you mean Ash?” She leaned in. “He’s not here. It’s just me.”
“Tunnels,” the man managed to choke out. “Warn him.”
As quickly as they’d opened, his eyes slid shut and his body went limp. Remi surged upright, realizing what Albert was telling her. Ash was in the tunnels. She had to find him.
Glancing down at the unconscious Albert, Remi sent up a quick prayer that the ambulance would arrive in time. Then, unable to battle against her overwhelming need to make sure Ash hadn’t been hurt, she headed toward the safe.
It couldn’t be a coincidence that the door was open. Not when her father had always sworn the combination to the lock had been lost.
Remi warily entered the safe, ignoring the voice in the back of her mind that was warning her to wait for the cops to arrive. She didn’t know where her mother was or what she was doing, but Remi had an unmistakable sense that Ash was in danger.
Inspecting the small space, she frowned. Where was the entrance to the tunnel? Her gaze lowered to the floor, studying the footprints visible in the layer of dust. They led to the back wall of the safe. She took another step forward, her toe landing on a rock. There was the sound of a soft click, then a creak, as a hidden door slid open to reveal a set of stairs leading to an underground passage.
A blast of musty air swirled around Remi, filling the safe with the scent of rich dirt. At the same time, she heard the sound of her mother’s voice drifting from below.
Remi swayed, nearly falling down the stairs as she was hit with a dizzying wave of memories. It was as if triggering the hidden door had opened a matching door in her min
d.
Suddenly, she was reliving the night when she’d been attacked. And now she had pulled into this very garage and jumped out of her car. She was at the point of running to the house when the vehicle that had been following her pulled in next to her.
She could remember vividly the acute relief when she realized it was her mother. She’d even laughed at her ridiculous overreaction. At least until her mother had moved with surprising speed to stand directly in front of her, lifting her arm and slashing it toward her neck.
Remi had been too surprised to move, and even when she felt the stab of pain from the hypodermic needle, she’d simply stared at the older woman in confusion. But then her mother had pulled the knife from beneath her coat, and Remi had known that the danger was horrifyingly real.
Numb with shock and whatever drug had been pumped into her system, Remi allowed her mother to force her into the safe and down the steps into the tunnel.
Christ. It was no wonder she’d blocked out the memories.
Her dark thoughts were interrupted at the sound of Ash’s voice.
He was in the tunnel. With her mother.
Without considering the fact that she’d just had flashbacks of her mother drugging her and threatening her with a knife, she headed down the stairs. She’d reached the bottom step when she caught sight of Ash and her mother disappearing down a side tunnel. Remi forced her feet to carry her forward, following behind them. But when she reached the doorway, she found herself hesitating as she listened to her mother tell Ash about her twisted childhood, and her revelation that she should never have given birth to Remi.
Her words just confirmed what Remi had already suspected. Liza Harding-Walsh had never loved her. She’d been incapable of seeing her daughter as anything but an unwelcome intrusion into her life.
A disease.
A distant part of her brain acknowledged this was a pain she would have to deal with at some point. But not now. Any childhood issues became inconsequential when she heard Ash name her mother as the Butcher and her mother agree.
A part of her had known, of course, but she hadn’t been able to process the truth. So she’d simply blanked it out. And now the older woman was going to kill Ash unless Remi could stop her.
The Intended Victim Page 31
