by Lannah Smith
I couldn’t always rely on him so I helped with the finances by making flower and paper crafts and letting him sell them. Living here, I learned to be economical. Money had never been an issue growing up but since I threw that life away, I had realized that I shouldn’t be wasteful and use consumables wisely.
But I knew this could work.
First because I had Dan.
Second because I was good with art and with my hands.
The sun was setting when I exited the woods. It was getting colder and I wrapped my cardigan around myself tight. I should have just taken up Dan’s offer to transplant the ferns in my garden so I wouldn’t have to go far. But I knew that this was a hit-or-miss operation at best since we had to replant the clump without disturbing the roots in the slightest.
And I enjoyed these long walks. I loved walking in the forest. Especially when I knew where I was going.
The breeze that passed made the skirts of my loose cotton dress sway. A strand of my hair loosened from the bun behind my head. I slipped it over my shoulder and felt the roughness of my hand. I stopped and looked at my palms in the dying light. They were rough and calloused but the sight didn’t disgust me.
A smile formed on my lips.
They were proof of the hard work and sweat that came with the freedom that I was enjoying now.
Once upon a time, I had been called the richest girl in the city.
Now I was just... just me. And I liked it this way.
Making my way to the house, I stopped a few times to cut a few roses and hyacinths, and placed them in the basket with the ferns.
Then I felt it.
I felt it before I saw it.
My gaze jerked to my house.
The house was dark. The door partially opened.
I didn’t leave the house dark.
And I didn’t leave my door open.
For the past few days, I had a horrible feeling that something was coming, something bad.
It had finally come.
My heart thudded heavily inside my chest. I wanted to run. I knew what I’d see inside that house. I was terrified of what I’d seen inside that house. But I knew they’d get me before I could escape.
They always do.
I took a deep breath. Then another.
Maybe it was just Dan. Maybe he was just playing a joke. A nasty joke. It was the night of Halloween after all.
I walked up the porch. I pushed the door further open.
"Dan?" I called out tightly. "Are you here?"
Silence.
"Dan?"
A thud made me jerk back. It came from the living room. Every part of me was screaming to run. Every part of me was begging me to save myself. I closed my eyes and clenched my jaw. Then I opened them and walked further inside the dark house.
The light suddenly turned on.
I blinked several times in pain and surprise.
Then my eyes focused and I inhaled shakily.
Dan was kneeling on the floor.
His hands were tied behind his back and he’d been stripped to his waist. Fresh bruises and cuts covered his exposed skin. His head, slumped forward, slowly lifted. I bit back a scream. His mouth was gagged by a piece of cloth and his face was dripping with blood, so much blood.
"Dan," I whispered. "No."
He shook his head, his eyes telling me to escape while I could. But I couldn’t leave him. I wouldn’t leave.
Still, relief, overwhelming relief waved over me, weakening my knees, and comforting her.
They hadn’t killed him. They hadn’t killed Dan.
Yet.
Jerking into motion, I tried to get to him. But two huge men blocked my way and I swayed back on my feet. I inhaled another shaky breath when I recognized them. My father’s men.
Two of my father’s men.
They found me.
Rodney and Oscar both grinned down at me. They were handsome men and they both knew it. They also disgust me. Knowing the things they’ve done, including to women and children, they deserve to be stripped down and tortured, not Dan. Not my sweet Dan.
As they stared, I schooled my features into one they know best.
Arctic indifference that had the bravest of my father’s henchmen flinch at the sight of it.
And a cool, calm, unaffected stare that had the rest going into deep freeze.
Just as I expected, their grins faltered. And just as I intended, they both glanced away.
“Remove yourselves from my path,” I enunciated very clearly so there was plenty of time for the icicles to form on my words.
They looked over their shoulders. I followed their gazes. A man was sitting on my favorite chair by the window, leaning back, his hands on the armrests, silently watching everything. My arms went limp at my sides when I recognized him. The basket fell the floor, the ferns and flowers that I had painstakingly collected spilling across the small space.
It was my father.
Oh, God, it was my father.
The monster found me.
Chapter 3
Christopher Lawrence sat in his car, staring out the window to the concert hall that had people queuing in front, a hall his family used to own until his deceased mother donated it to a non-profit organization before she was, well, deceased.
That was the first time Christopher had been there in over twenty years. The last time had been to watch The Sound of Music when he was barely five years old, or so he was told by his grandparents. He didn’t really remember much of his childhood. Trauma did that to a person, or so he was told again, this time by his useless doctors.
“Aren’t you going out?” he heard an impatient voice ask. “Sir?” the voice added as an afterthought.
Christopher kept his eyes at the hall when he said, “How many times do I have to tell you that you don’t need to call me sir when we’re alone together, Alec?”
“And how many times do I have to tell you that you don’t have time for this?” he heard him grumble irritably. “Sir.”
Christopher’s gaze drifted to the driver’s seat.
Alec Jackman was staring at him on the rear-view mirror, gray eyes looking as impatient and irritable as his voice sounded.
A tall, lean and athletic man with handsome features and light-brown hair, Alec had been Christopher’s friend since middle school. And because of his ability to get a variety of jobs done in a variety of creative way, he became Christopher’s employee, bodyguard and right-hand man since Christopher graduated from college.
Their friendship was why this asshole could talk smack at Christopher and get away with it. Any other person who’d try would find himself on the ground before he could finish uttering a word.
“I have time,” Christopher responded wryly.
Alec made a show of looking at his wristwatch. “Your flight is at 10.”
“The concert will end before 10.”
“You need to get on that flight before 10, boss.”
“And I will,” Christopher looked out the window again, “I will, Alec.”
Fuck knows there would be consequences if he didn’t.
But it had been almost six months since he’d last seen his friends. Sure, there were phone calls in between as Sophia was stubborn about making sure all of them keep in touch. Not to mention Hannah who was always bugging him about going to the blind dates that she had set up even though no one, especially not him, asked her.
It wasn’t their fault that they hadn’t seen each other, it was his. He had hardly no time to spare. And Alec was right. He definitely didn’t have time for this. But it had been far too long since he’d had the pleasure of their company.
Alec’s disapproval still lingered in the air and Christopher felt it.
Sighing, he looked at his right-hand and said, “You know I’m doing this to get Leon off my back. He’s been asking... questions,” he deadpanned.
“You didn’t tell me he was asking questions.”
“Since when did I have to tell you my every ph
one conversation?”
“Since you fucking appointed me,” he bit out, at the end of his patience and not the kind of man who had trouble showing it, even to the kind of man Christopher had become. “Sir.”
Christopher grinned. “Like you didn’t request, no, demand for the position?”
“You need someone to guide you.” Alec turned to the front. Christopher could see how white his knuckles have become when Alec tightened his grip around the wheel. “And to make sure you stay alive. Sir.”
God damn it. Alec must be really fucking pissed because he was pissing Christopher off too with his endless sirs. Now he understood what John felt. John’s bodyguard wouldn’t stop calling him young master either.
“Right, I’m out of here,” he mumbled, shoving the door open and straightening out of the car. “And no. You won’t be coming inside with me.”
“But what if—.”
He closed the door to Alec’s protest.
Then, smoothing his suit jacket as well as schooling his features, he made his way into the concert hall.
John Steele was on his phone when he walked inside the lobby. Seeing him, John’s face lit up and he ended the call quickly.
“Skull!” John grinned widely, throwing an arm around him and clapping a hand on his shoulder. Dark-haired with green eyes, his eyes were positively beaming with delight. “fucking great to see you, man.”
Skull was the nickname his friends had called him since high school. It had started as a joke that everyone took seriously. Now, even though they were in their mid-twenties, most of his closest friends still called him by the nickname. He’d probably be stuck with it forever but he didn’t really mind.
“If Terry hears you cussing, she’ll have your head again,” he told John.
John looked to the side and winced. “Too late. She already heard me.”
Terry Evans, a black-haired and half-Asian beauty, was making her way over to them with a glower directed at John. “You just can’t control yourself, can you?” she hissed at him.
“The potty jar doesn’t work?” Christopher asked her.
Her annoyed gaze drifted to him and they softened. “No,” she said, wrapping her arms around him to give him a quick hug. “And I’m glad you could make it, Christopher.”
He grinned down at her. “Wouldn’t miss Emmy’s concerto for the world, Terry.”
“Skull!”
His eyes cut to the velvet couches were Leon Gage sat. With black hair and silvery-gray eyes that could clear one look with one glacial stare, he clearly wasn’t in the best moods at the moment. Next to him, napping on his shoulder, was a very pregnant Sophia, his wife. Blonde and blue-eyed, she was one of the best things that ever happened to them, most especially to Leon. And Christopher owed her big for that.
Leon waved him over, saying, “You’ve got something to say to me?”
“Yeah,” Christopher went over then sat on the couch next to Sophia Gideon, now Sophia Gage, “I’m planning to give the baby a pony,” he smirked at Leon. “Can you find a bigger place in Boston that has a stable?”
A muscle jumped on Leon’s cheek. “You are not giving us a pony.”
“It’s not for you, it’s for the baby.”
“You are not going to give her a—.”
“Skull?” Sophia lifted her head from Leon’s shoulder, blinking and narrowing her eyes at him. “Is that you?”
“Hey, beautiful.” Sophia wrapped her arms around his middle and buried her face into his chest. He chuckled. He knew without looking at her face that she was getting teary-eyed. “You still a crier?”
He felt her nod. Felt Terry and John moving close. Felt his friends’ affection for him.
It had been a good idea to come and see them again.
But then he felt Leon’s hot glare.
And looking at Leon’s expression, Christopher knew this night wasn’t going to end without his friends grilling him.
fuck.
He saw how Leon’s mouth got tight over Sophia’s shoulders. He grinned at him and watched as his friend’s mouth got tighter.
Sharp, shrewd, and street smart. That was Leon Gage.
His life had been marred by tragedy, a tragedy he had finally overcome with Sophia, his girlfriend since high school, now wife. And so the tragedy ended in true storybook form but that didn’t mean Leon was done being sharp, shrewd, street smart and most of all, protective. The kind of protective that was pissing Leon off because he knew Christopher was hiding something from them and the kind of protective that had Christopher staying away from them for six months.
Sophia was excitedly telling them about how they’ve redecorated a room in their house in Boston and turned it into a nursery. John and Terry were hanging on to her every word, John especially. Christopher knew how bad he wanted to get married to Terry. But Terry still wouldn’t accept his proposal for some reason.
Sitting on the velvet couches, catching up and talking about how their lives had become, Christopher found comfort in that, like he’d been given reprieve. His life, for the most part, had no room for comfort anymore. And Alec knew that. That was why he relented and gave Christopher these few hours of relief.
“You painted the room pink?” John was asking Sophia.
“Peach,” Sophia corrected.
John looked at his girlfriend. “Aren’t they the same?”
Terry shook her head. “No, honey. They’re not.” Then she looked at Leon in disbelief. “You let her paint the room pink?”
Sophia sighed in exasperation. “Peach.”
Leon squeezed his wife’s shoulder gently. “Happy wife, happy life.”
Christopher and John exchanged glances.
Then they burst out into loud laughter, making everyone in the lobby look at them.
“Alright,” Leon began in a soft mutter that hinted violence if they didn’t stop laughing, “Enough talk about us. What about you tell us what you’ve been doing, Skull—?”
He couldn’t finish his question because Rohan had finally arrived and Christopher didn’t waste the opportunity to evade his interrogation.
"Rohan," He stood up, throwing his arms around their friend. "What took you so long?"
Rohan clapped his back and said, "My meeting with the investors took too long. I let Jack wrap it up."
John chuckled when he heard and also stood to give Rohan a quick hug. "I bet he was happy. He hasn't changed at all since high school, has he? He's still a lazy as fu—," he faltered at the glare Terry gave him.
Rolling her eyes, Terry gave Rohan a kiss on the cheek. "It's been a while, Rohan."
"You still haven't said yes?" Rohan asked her, lifting his brows.
"Only because he still needs to mature," was her answer. The glare that John gave her made Christopher laugh.
"She's already planning to divorce me before we could even tie the knot," John grumbled.
Terry sent him a sweet smile. "If we tie the knot."
Rohan immediately turned away from the couple, knowing they were going to argue again, and went to Leon and Sophia. Amused, Christopher stayed next to the couple and listened to them argue.
“Set the date,” John said, glowering at Terry.
Terry crossed her arms and glowered back. “Don’t be childish.”
“We’re getting old.”
“We’re twenty-six. We are not old.”
“Leon and Sophia are twenty-six but they’re already married and have a baby on the way.”
Terry looked like she wanted to throttle him and Christopher thought it was time to intervene.
“They don’t own a multi-billion company,” he told John. “Companies, rather,” he amended with a grin.
“Still—.”
Christopher patted his shoulder. “Give her some time,” he whispered. “At least she finally moved in with you. Right?”
But John didn’t look reassured. He stared at Terry, who was now staring at Sophia, Leon and Rohan. Christopher’s eyes went to them too.
"Yeah, we did," Leon replied.
"You could have just lived with us."
