“Oh really? I hope it’s better company because you suck. The rats scurrying around at night are more accommodating. You know, you could actually feed someone enough so that their stomach stops growling once in a while.” My eyes narrow as a pang of hunger hits my stomach once more.
“Hmm, company,” he thinks out loud, scratching his scruffy chin like the dumbass he is before tossing me a wink. “I’ll see what I can work out.” Spinning on his scuffed up leather loafered heel, he heads out of the room once more.
The loud clang of the door against its metal frame fills the room, reverberating through my head and increasing the pounding tempo that hasn’t let up the entire time I’ve been here; pounding that was probably born of the several times I’ve been struck. For all of about thirty seconds, that pounding in my head paired with the buzzing of the outdated lights overhead, are the only sounds in the room. Then I hear footsteps returning which I know are Dimitri’s because he has a certain tempo about him, a particular gait that I’ve memorized.
This time, though, a muted scuffing sound follows along with him.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, the noise reminds me of when I was a child and I stole my mom’s favorite patent leather, fire-engine red shoes. They were much too big for my feet, but I had been eyeing them for a while. I had finally grown just enough to put them on without them flopping off each step I took a step. Of course, I had to shuffle one foot forward and then the other like you would ice-skates.
All of which was fine and dandy until I angled my foot a certain way, dragging the toe against the surface of the floor and effectively rubbed a huge scuff into the expensive material. Mom had not been happy I’d ruined her name brand shoes—by some Italian designer I can never remember the name of—but I wasn’t punished for my crime. She actually laughed as she said shoes were replaceable and an important fashion lesson had been learned.
It’s funny, all these insignificant memories that barrel their way back to me when I'm faced with such a serious situation. At the time they occurred, I never would have understood they would be the very ones I would come to look at with the most fondness.
Like with Gray, when he was an asshole to me because he was trying to fight the feelings that he wasn’t ready to accept yet; there were those times his protective mechanisms fell away to reveal a man who was compassionate and caring and loyal; the same man who helped me when I ran my battery dead; the same one who snuck take-out into the school every day for months so that I wouldn’t have to eat craptastic cafeteria food.
All of those are now fond memories of another lifetime.
Those memories belong to another girl. There’s the girl before, and there’s the girl sitting here now.
Dimitri opens the door slightly and pushes his face through. “Knock, knock.” He’s still smiling, and I’d like nothing more than to swipe that crooked curve right off his ugly face. “Helloooo,” he sing-songs, “I come bearing great gifts from afar.”
He’s obviously gotten high while on break. I scoff at his stupid face, stupid tone, and stupid drug-induced grin.
Until he pushes the door all the way open…
And my gaze lands on a form standing slightly behind him. The person with Dimitri sways, leaning against him for support. Doing a quick once-over, I scan her from head to toe…the same pale blonde hair she’s always had, followed by the same nickel-plated gray irises as my own. The eyes I inherited from her; the hair, I did not.
“Mom,” I gasp, shamefully happy to see her when I had thought I’d never get the chance to again. After the split second of happiness subsides, anger and remorse cancel out the sentiment.
From the way she staggers and sways on her feet behind him, not even putting up a fight, I know two things are true: one, she’s under the influence of something they’ve administered to her—although I’m not sure of the specifics. It wouldn’t surprise me if she was still under the aftereffects of chloroform. Two, my mom has some fire in her. If she’s following along willingly, it means she turned herself over to them just to be by my side. I guess a mother’s love is sometimes blind, and even when their children are grown, they can still feel when that child needs them.
All things aside, showing up like this is practically “Suicide-By-Dominic.”
As soon as she steps foot in the room, she doesn’t allow them to jerk her around and tell her what she’s going to do. Her heels click across the ground until she comes to a stop directly in front of me. Dropping down to eye level, she looks me over, inspecting me for scratches and broken bones and all the things mothers check for when their baby girl has just endured something traumatic. It reminds me of when I used to take a tumble down the stairs of our old apartment, how she’d always come running like I’d been hit by a train, even if it was just one or two steps I'd fallen down.
She winces, her face paling further when her eyes land on my cheekbone. Although I can’t see it, the painful pulsing behind the tight and swollen skin clues me in on how bad it probably looks from her point of view.
“You shouldn’t have come, Mom,” I growl, pinning her with a scolding look. Visibly flinching from my tone, she quickly recovers, eyes narrowing and nostrils flaring.
“And you should have told me about your little secret,” she points out.
My heart hammers at the accusation.
How on earth did she find out? My mind keeps screaming incessantly. So…I ask her.
“Gray,” she replies simply, and just like that my hammering heart squeezes, then stops as Dimitri slips his hands around her arms and directs her to the other end of my metal bed frame. He zip-ties her wrists to the other end, completely mirroring my position so that we’re just out of each other's reach.
All of this doesn’t distract me from the news she’s just given me. I’m practically desensitized to the goings on in this small decrepit room and of the way my handlers choose to handle things within these four walls. Staring at the bindings on my mother’s wrists, my thoughts are all over the place as I contemplate how Gray found out and how hurt he must be.
Acid begins to rise up my throat, and I fight to swallow it back remembering the prenatal vitamin Jerome offered me. In that slim to none chance that I survive, and the baby does too, we both desperately need those nutrients.
“How does he know?” I finally ask, my voice trembling as my stomach lurches once again.
“Completely by chance. He slung a bunch of stuff around the bathroom in a rage after you were taken, kicking over the wastebasket in the process. There it was on the floor in front of him as plain as day. He brought it out to show Jameson and I right after.” Her gaze sweeps over my face, apprehensive and inquiring all at once. From the tone of her voice, I can tell she’s hurt.
I didn’t tell her when I found out.
I didn’t seek my mother’s advice or tell her how scared I was.
Knowing her, she’s probably upset just thinking of how I suffered over the anxiety of the matter all by myself and didn’t even seek her out; even if I only knew the information for less than twenty-four hours before everything went to shit.
“How did he take the news?” A sense of numbness is coming over me. It’s strange to me how, given the dire circumstances that have befallen me, I’m more concerned about Gray.
Did hearing that I’m expecting make things even harder for him?
Did it only increase his urgency to get to me, his desperation?
I’m guessing it did.
When he found out I had been seeing another man—that I had been with someone else—I expected that fire that burned for me to die out. Like a candle dropped into the sea of loss and regret, I knew in my heart the wick was so soaked and ruined beyond repair, it would never burn again. His passion and need for me was dead, never to be resurrected.
But he proved me wrong. The flame only flickered briefly, then it recovered to burn as brightly as it always had; a passion that was as beautiful as it was vibrant. His love for me is unconditional. No matter my mis
takes, no matter the secrets between us, the feelings, the emotions, the need for one another will never subside.
I know that he’s out there right now, obsessing over the fact that I’m out of reach and he doesn’t know if I’m alive or dead.
And the baby? The baby adds a whole extra level of madness into the equation, and not just on Gray’s part. I have to remember that Jameson will also stop at nothing, because not only does his brother have me—his only daughter, he also has the love of his life, and his grandchild as well.
Yes, knowledge of the baby and mixing my mom into the equation just brought a whole new level of psychotic and don’t-give-a-fuck attitudes into the mix. These men are going to be frantic—both a concerning and reassuring thought. I don’t even think Dom is aware of how much trouble he’s asked for.
I’m sure of this though, if Jameson and Gray fail to get to me and my mother before the clock runs out, there’s nothing more that could have been done. A team of navy seals couldn’t have accomplished more than those two.
“How did he take it? Well, gee, I’m not sure, Valley. How do you think?” Mom’s sarcastic reply causes my eyes to roll as they usually do when we argue. Her fault, not mine. Then she adds a little more acerbity into the mix by saying, “You know, I didn’t really have time to sit him down and give him a free therapy session considering there were more taxing matters at hand. I’ll be sure to include one next time I see him, though.”
“Okay, Mrs. Vindictive. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the baby. Just so you know, these assholes,” I glance about the room at the two evil henchmen, “weren’t aware of that fact. Also, I didn’t find out until the night before. I was still processing everything.”
She purses her lips in irritation, but I can tell she’s still pouting. I’ve never known a more complex woman than my own mother. One minute she’s fragile and leads one to think she’ll crack at any moment. The next, she’s tough as nails with a firecracker personality. See what I did there? She’s a living contradiction and you never know what side of her you’re going to get.
We settle into silence, seemingly both noticing at the same time that we’ve been putting on a show for The Two Assholes. The pair of them finally go back to whatever it is they do on those phones of theirs. From the chiming and shuffling noises coming from Dimitri’s phone, I’d say he’s probably playing some online poker game. From the stupid smile on Jerome’s face as he stares at the screen of his own phone, I’d say he’s probably sexting his baby mama.
Must. Be. Nice.
As minutes tick by, they become even more immersed in their phones. When I’m sure they’re no longer paying us any mind, I wiggle my fingers in hopes of garnering Mom’s attention. She stares off into the corner of the room, not catching on until I slide my feet down the bed toward her end. The movement finally causes her gaze to flick to mine.
“So, what’s your plan?” I mouth to her. Althia Malone is a wise woman. She’s as book-smart as she is street-smart. She wouldn’t just give herself over to the man who’s sure to torture her until she’s breathing her last, if there isn’t a well-formulated plan in place.
She says nothing, although I know she understood what message I was attempting to convey; just like I understand the message she conveys with the body language she displays next.
Slowly, a small, sad smile tugs at the corners of her lips and her eyes glaze over in sympathy. The look she’s giving me tells me the opposite of what I’ve been thinking from the moment I saw her standing in the doorway.
All hope plummets.
My face scrunches in on itself in defeat.
To make matters worse, she finally mouths a response, and although she doesn’t carry a decibel of volume to her voice, I still hear her loud and clear.
“My plan was to be with you until there was a better plan.”
An ugly, hiccupping sob escapes my lips as hot tears cascade down my cheeks. “Mama,” I whisper, shaking my head.
I don’t know where Dominic is, but I’m sure he’s on his way, and if I’ve received nothing but harsh treatment from the second I was dragged through those doors…Mom is going to receive the full scorn of Hell itself.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Gray
“WHAT TOOK SO long? Why didn’t you answer?” Jameson demands in a panic as soon as I walk into the room.
Damn, what a greeting.
“What is it?”
“She’s gone,” he rasps, pacing a few steps in one direction and then spinning to do the same in another direction.
“Who?” I ask, slightly confused because Valley’s been missing for a while now and that point was certainly made as soon as it happened. Unless…
“Please tell me she’s not dead,” I choke out, feeling like the ground has just been ripped from beneath me.
“No, son. Thia. She had to have woken up and overheard us, and all of her stuff is still in the bedroom except her cellphone. I don’t know what she’s thinking,” he says, exasperated. He cups the back of his neck and squeezes hard. “I can’t lose them both,” he grits, more to himself than me.
I want to tell him not to worry, that it will never happen. But I’ve never been one to give false hope. I offer honesty instead. “We’re going to do everything in our power to make sure you don’t lose either of them.” It's the best I can come up with.
He dips his chin as if wanting to nod, but lacking the energy to do so. In my gut, I know he needs me to take over the reins for now. He’s not just worrying about one person he loves, he now has two loved ones to think about. My gears begin turning immediately. “You said Althia took her phone with her. Is there any way we can track it? That’s where we need to start.”
He glances at me, jaw hardening as determination settles over his features. Pulling out his own phone, he begins swiping and typing furiously. “Pulling it up now,” he clarifies, as his fingers continue moving at full speed. “The last place it shows her phone is here.” His eyes scan the screen intently. Then his shoulders sag. “Damn it. That’s all there is. She must have turned off her location before she left.”
“Do you think she sought him out?” I ask, confused as to how the situation grows more and more dire by the hour.
“Probably. And that stupid fucker probably told her to do so before he let her turn herself over to him. I fucking swear, Gray, if he harms either one of them I will kill him. I’ll do it. I won’t even care he’s my own flesh and blood brother.”
I clap him over the shoulder, squeezing in reassurance. “I’m with you whatever you decide. You already know I’m prepared to do whatever to ensure Valley makes it back to me safely. Her mother is a package deal in this case. Let’s stop letting our emotions rule us, and think about this like it’s all business. What we need is a calculated, precise, fool-proof plan. We gotta stop muddying our minds with worry,” I suggest like it’s the easiest and most logical thing in the world.
This whole thing is nothing but messy emotions.
He looks at me, a long and hard look that nearly makes me antsy.
Have I said something he doesn’t like?
Dragging in a deep breath, he finally responds, “You’re right.”
~XoXo~
Valley
The door begins to open, and my eyes flit about the room for reassurance.
I find none.
Both Dimitri and Jerome are in the room with me and Mom, which means it can only be one man whose face I’m about to see. Dominic walks into the room like the king of darkness, which in my opinion, he is. His gaze skips right over me and lands on my mother instead. A lazy grin stretches across his face, his eyes alight with pleasure as he strides across the room slowly, each forward step increasing the already growing anticipation.
“My lovely wife,” he says sweetly. Or he tries to. Anyone can see behind the layer of caramel on the outside of the apple; it does nothing to hide the fact it’s laced with poison underneath.
Coming to a stop in front of her, he lean
s down inches from her face, halting his descent when he’s nearly close enough to press his lips to her skin.
“Wow, Althia, you look beautiful as ever. Except for maybe when you were seventeen and we were first married. Tell me exactly, how long was this thing going on with my brother? Did it start before we were married? After? Did it go on for years? How does it feel to know the fact you couldn’t keep your legs closed is going to be the cause of your demise. You always were a filthy whore. I just couldn’t prove it until now.”
I expect Mom to start crying, or at the very least attempt to appease him by apologizing and groveling to buy us some time.
She always shocks me.
Always.
“I loved your brother before I ever married you. But you knew that, didn’t you? It was always some stupid rivalry with you and your father’s illegitimate child. First rivaling with Jameson for your father’s love and approval, then for mine. That’s why you pushed so hard to marry me. You took advantage of my family’s situation. I suspect you may have even helped make it worse with the promise of making it better. And as for when it started, it was after we were married—if that’s what you even want to call what we did. As far as I’m concerned, Jameson is my husband in my heart.” She lays it all out for him.
I’m guessing she figures if she’s going to die, she’ll say exactly what’s on her mind.
It’s stupid and ballsy, and I totally get it.
I flinch, waiting for Dominic to lash out and strike her like he did me, but he just keeps smiling sweetly at her like a lunatic. Taking the tips of his fingers, he trails them across her cheek, down her neck, and all the way to the end of her arms running smooth circles over her wrists.
He pauses there, and I see him glancing down at where his fingers have landed. A smug look lights his expression and he allows a stupid little hum of satisfaction to escape his lips. The sound of metal clinking stirs, just as Mom utters, “You bastard.”
Love on the Rise: Book Two of The Against All Odds Series Page 25