I sucked in a breath, knowing what that meant. Choosing not to immediately respond, I put my phone back into my pocket. It seemed my way of keeping things in order had already started to fail. I had only been back a few weeks, yet somehow, things were quickly getting worse.
Chapter Six
Mia
FEAR OF ONESELF COULD be overwhelming. Finally accepting who you were could unleash something inside you that you didn’t know existed. Its patience had worn thin, and its existence could no longer be a secret. The time had finally come for it to be revealed.
***
My transition wasn’t difficult. The police helped. When my mother’s killer was never found, they advised me to change my identity. So I did. I became Mia and moved to the outskirts of Louisiana to live with my aunt. Anything concerning my past was supposed to be left in Houston, including certain people I was raised around. The people I thought I knew. No one could be trusted. I disappeared without a trace, and the only reminder of my past was when my aunt slipped up and called me by that name. Alyssa.
Those times were the most difficult. I’d struggle to bury all those memories again, reliving it all in the process. I finally tried going to a therapist. My aunt thought talking to a professional would help me deal with things.
However, the only thing the therapist did was remind me of what I had lost. Remind me of everything I would never have again. In one of our sessions, she suggested I talk about the night I found my mother. She explained if I relived it, I might be able to find a way to heal.
I would never forget that session, unprepared for the vivid memories that began to surface.
“Let’s start before you walked through the back door, Alyssa.” She cleared her throat and positioned her pen to write notes in her tablet.
I opened my eyes and looked at her, giving her a questioning stare.
“It’s better if we use your given name for this particular session. It will help you revisit your past. It’s better this way. I assure you. It won’t leave room for any confusion,” she explained. “We need it to be just as clear as the day it happened.”
I nodded, lying back on the couch and closing my eyes. I was nervous, but if revisiting my past helped me move forward, I would give it a try.
“What do you see, Alyssa? What do you feel?” Her soothing voice relaxed me, then I was back at the house.
I swallowed, shocked by my response. “Fear.”
“Are you sure, Alyssa? Is that the only feeling you recall? What caused you to become afraid?”
“Wait… No.” I tried to remember. I caught a glimpse of something. I was so close, but… “There was a man. His face was covered. No, several men, but then…”
I felt the tears burn my eyes, the fear beginning to swallow me whole. It all started coming back. It was too much, and I still couldn’t remember everything. There were so many black holes.
“Alyssa, don’t fight it,” she said softly. “Tell me what you see. Where are you in the house?”
I took a deep breath. “I’m at the back door, but I’m not afraid. I’m smiling. I turn the knob, push the door open…” I gasped. “There’s a man pointing a gun at me. I can hear others, but he hushes me before I step into the house. He motions toward a closet. When I hesitate, he becomes impatient. His hand adjusts on the trigger.” My voice lowered. “He suddenly seems torn, almost sad. I quickly obey and run into the closet. The other voices get closer. I know they intend to hurt me.”
I felt my heartbeat increase, but the therapist’s voice somehow calmed me.
“It’s okay, Alyssa. You’re safe. Why do you feel those men want to hurt you?”
I hesitated. “Because of the fear in the man’s eyes.”
She hummed. “Okay… Let’s go back. You’re in the closet. You’re afraid.”
“Yes.”
“Do you hear anything? Are the voices familiar?”
“No, but I hear heavy footsteps and arguing. They ask the man if he’s seen anyone else in the house, but he assures them there isn’t.” I swallowed. “He doesn’t want them to find me. He’s protecting me.”
“Why would he do that? Do you know him?”
My voice cracked. “I don’t know him, but I’m scared for my mother. I need to get to her. I know she’s in the house. There are footsteps right in front of the closet door. They question him again, but he assures them there’s no one else.”
“How long were you in the closet, Alyssa?”
“I don’t know.” I tried to remember. “An hour, maybe less. Everything happened so quickly.”
“Alyssa, honey, the only way you will get through this is if you revisit those painful memories. I know it’s hard, but you can’t let them control you. You’re not there anymore. They can’t hurt you.”
I opened my eyes and looked at her. Was I ready to remember all of it? She placed her tablet down, leaning forward in her chair.
“I know what you’re feeling. You’re scared. You want to forget it. But it happened, and no matter how much you fight it, it will only affect you more. If you don’t address it, it will always come back.”
She cleared her throat, moving back into her chair and retrieving her tablet and pen. “So, let’s prevent that from happening. We aren’t going to let it impact your life. I know for a fact you have the strength to move past this.”
I positioned myself back on the couch, looking up at the ceiling. My eyes slowly fluttered closed, trying to remember all I could, knowing there was no possible way to forget. There was too much pain. Too much need for revenge left inside me.
***
Nobody liked to think of their past. Especially when you’d made every attempt to run from it. The day I made my decision was one I would never forget. I ran across an article on the Internet. I had a tendency to Google my name, my mother’s, my father’s, anything pertaining to that night. Right after it happened, there were so many new search results, then things started to die down. The tragedy, had run its course, and the news outlets finally decided to move on to something else. My father’s name had been dragged through the mud, his reputation destroyed, but nothing could be proven.
Except to me. Dealing with the aftermath of my mother’s death, I learned about power, rank, title. I learned you could win some fights, but some people were too far out of your grasp. No matter how much proof you had. In order to reach those people, you had to get closer, gain access to them without them knowing it. Greet them. Praise them. Become one of them. So when you decided to strike, they wouldn’t see it coming. When they finally noticed you, really saw you, their world would crumble and they wouldn’t be able to stop the destruction. Their power would be irrelevant. The fear on their faces would drive you to your own completeness…or so I thought.
***
When I turned eighteen, I did the hardest thing I ever had to do. Walked away from the only person close to a parent I had left. The person who sat with me when I couldn’t stop crying. The person who held me when I questioned my own faith. When I questioned why it happened.
I knew my aunt shielded me from the truth, the same way she kept my father’s money a secret. She didn’t want me to hurt any more than I was. Didn’t want to intensify the pain I constantly felt. I also realized she didn’t want to give me hope for something she wasn’t certain of herself. She was as lost as I was back then.
It didn’t take long to realize no amount of therapy or medication could mend my pain. All they did was mask it for a short amount of time. Eventually, I stopped taking the pills and learned to cope by keeping busy.
I went to college, leaving behind the small town that kept me safe all those years. I wanted to start fresh, but the moment I stepped foot on campus, things changed.
My roommate’s name was Avery Johnson, and I immediately felt a strange connection to her I couldn’t explain. Her presence gave me hope. I thought maybe it was because I knew our friendship would last a lifetime. I never imagined I’d marry her brother. That her own flesh and bloo
d played a part in destroying my family. That her friendship would benefit me in the long run.
How else could you find justice if not by the source itself? What other way was there to exact revenge if not by growing close to the person who likely had something to do with causing that pain? I never imagined I would walk right into the arms of the man who could be responsible for destroying my life without a second thought.
If Detective Anderson’s information were correct, if my husband was behind my mother’s death, was running in the opposite direction really the best choice? Or was it best to walk back to him, pretending nothing was wrong, and discreetly gather information myself?
I walked into the lion’s den not because I was sure he was responsible, but because I had a feeling reentering that life was meant for me. It was the route I needed to take to eventually figure everything out. My family’s destruction. My mother’s death. More importantly, why I was spared.
***
The woman stood quickly, apologizing. Her eyes filled with so much shame, she struggled to look directly at me. My picture was still on the TV, the news anchor speaking, but neither of us was focused on it anymore. The proof of everything was right in front her.
She grabbed her things, moving toward the door, not bothering to close her purse. The shock radiated off her. Tears developed in my eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
I burst into tears as she quickly walked out. Not because of her sympathy, but because when she grabbed her purse off the counter, her cell phone fell out.
Chapter Seven
Wesley
THERE WAS A QUESTION most people always asked when they did something wrong. Why did I do it? Why did I feel the need to act so recklessly, causing me a lifetime of pain? Or, in my case, a lifetime of debt?
When I let the woman I thought I’d spend the rest of my life with die, I made myself my father’s pawn. It could’ve been considered an unfortunate circumstance, but when it was broken down, there was only one person truly responsible. Me.
I could’ve saved her, could’ve protected her, but in the end, what would I have gained? She turned out to be everything I had been warned she was. Conniving. Manipulative. Yet I had fallen for her anyway. I allowed her access to my life, but she immediately used the information she gained against me. The shock. The shame. The fear. It all crashed over me, leaving me helpless. I couldn’t handle the situation on my own, so I called the one man I knew could. My father. It was the beginning of the end for me. That one request changed the path of my entire life.
The men my father sent worked quickly. I had just received the proof of my fiancée’s betrayal, and within thirty minutes, my father had a team together. It was odd to be on this end of our business. As I stepped outside, several men, dressed in black with masks over their faces, made their way inside. They were calm, quiet. A few stayed watch in the yard, while others stood guard by the door. Hand signals were made. Equipment was exchanged.
After everything was said and done, it was as if they were never there. They made sure not to leave a single trace.
I did hear the scream as they ended her life. It was short, but I couldn’t erase it from my mind. I still couldn’t. Along with the images I never saw but couldn’t help but imagine. Her shocked face as they pulled the trigger. Her limp body when they removed her from my home. Which was extra. It was a hefty amount, but it was needed in some cases. I couldn’t bear to look at her. Couldn’t face what I had orchestrated.
That was why we had different “packages” in our business. It all depended on what you needed. Did you want it to look like someone else did it? Did you not want to see the victim when it was over? They would then be delivered to one of our preferred places. A river. Lake. Junkyard. Alley. We also guaranteed none of it would lead back to you.
It was set up just like the scene in a movie. You told us exactly how you wanted it done. Depending on how much you were willing to spend, we wouldn’t even question your motives. Men like us didn’t need a legitimate reason for committing a crime. It was what made us so good at what we offered. Emotion wasn’t allowed because once we started a job, there was no turning back. It didn’t matter who you were. I learned that important fact very quickly.
***
I always had an issue going back to the house where I was raised. At first it was because I remembered my mother. The fact she was no longer there. The irony that my father was. The unfairness of it all. This detail proved how unjust life could be. It proved that even when you were good, even when you went by the rules, you could still get fucked in the end. There was no reward for being good. Only hope. Hope that usually fell through.
I pulled through the gates of the expansive home, the tall trees lining the extensive driveway making me realize this wasn’t a dream. This was a place I hadn’t visited since a few months after my mother’s funeral. That was the day I decided I couldn’t tolerate things anymore. I wanted out…for good. Too bad I soon found myself in a predicament where I didn’t have a choice. My father had given me distance, but it was only because the evil bastard felt slight sympathy for me. His irritation had weighed heavily on him. He wanted to say no. However, the words that left his lips shocked me. His voice was stern when he spoke.
“I’ll grant you your wish, son, but keep in mind. This is only for you to work through your grief. You are still a part of this family and everything that comes with it.”
I thought of this as I parked my car in front of the house. It continued to play in my head as I inserted my key into the lock and slowly pushed the door open. Everything that comes with it. Those words were accurate in every way. That knowledge dangled over my head for years, but it wasn’t what led me back here. The phone call was what put everything into play again. The assistance I needed when my fiancée betrayed me.
I quietly made my way inside, closing the door behind me. None of the hired staff was around, which played in my favor. I didn’t want to reminisce. I wanted to get in and out. The weight of all the memories had already started to affect me.
“I was wondering how long it would take you to show up.”
I jumped and spun around, seeing my father, dressed in golfing apparel, watching me. His gray eyes never left mine as he casually walked into his office. He put his clubs away, then took a seat behind his desk. I followed, placing my hands into my pockets. The room itself made me uncomfortable.
“So…,” he said, relaxing in his chair. “What is your plan now? If you don’t know where this woman is, how can you make this issue go away, Wesley?” He shook his head in frustration, the disgust he tried to mask readily apparent. “Tell me exactly how you plan on handling this. I granted you your wish, yet somehow, this whole ordeal has blown up right in my face.” He studied me. “You’re making me question my decisions, son. I am not a man who takes pride in that. I need you to explain how this happened.”
I continued to stand at a reasonable distance, the room slowly closing in on me. My mother’s voice echoed throughout the hallway. I had to get out. I thought I had the strength to endure it, but I was wrong. Even with the five years that had passed, her presence was still there. Her voice. Her footsteps. The smile I was only granted in pictures. I started inching toward the door as my father’s voice grew louder.
“Wesley? Are you listening? How could you allow this to happen?”
I stopped, looking over at him. “How can you live here, Stinson?” My voice came out quiet.
He looked at me, confused. His eyes crinkled in the corners. “What does that have to do with any of this? I gave you the benefit of the doubt, and this is how you repay me?” He laughed. “You’re questioning me on something you know nothing about. I think you’ve forgotten you place, son.”
I cautiously took a few steps toward him, looking around the room and back into the hall. “It doesn’t bother you staying in the house that she decorated? A house that holds so many memories? Good ones because of her, but mostly—”
His
voice was strained when he interrupted. “I loved your mother, Wesley. I know it was hard for you to understand our relationship, but—”
I forced a laugh. “You call what you two had love? I’m thirty-two years old. I know the difference between love and indifference.”
When I had proposed to Evelynn and was ready to walk down that strict path, I knew the difference. The love I felt for my former fiancée after I ordered her murder was stronger than what my parents had. I didn’t misunderstand anything. I saw right through the roles they had played. The same roles I refused to replicate.
He didn’t argue. Instead, he shrugged. “Okay then. If you want me to cut through the bullshit, I expect you to do the same.”
He stood from his seat and walked toward me, stopping before he got to close. It was like looking into the mirror and adding twenty years. Would I be able to tolerate this life for that long?
“I can live here because I don’t feel your mother’s presence. If it is here, she doesn’t acknowledge me.” He cleared his throat. “I guess it’s the same as when she was alive, but since she’s passed on, she doesn’t have to pretend.”
I swallowed, unsure how to respond. Luckily, he continued, buying me some time.
“Now, since I’ve been honest with you, I expect the same in return.” He studied me carefully. “How could you allow this woman to disappear? I’m not convinced someone took her. This could have been staged to throw us off track.”
I grimaced. My father was a smart man. He always saw more than others. Trickery rarely fooled him. I took a step back, looking him directly in the eyes, my gaze not wavering. My answer was more convincing than I practiced on the drive over.
“I’ve had a lot on my plate, with the success of the club and the recent list of requests from you. I never thought someone would take her.” I kept my gaze strong. “I considered moving forward with the plan, but by then, it was too late.”
He quickly stepped away from me and walked over to the bar in the office. He poured himself what I assumed was a scotch, not bothering to ask if I wanted one. He downed the contents in his glass, but remained on the opposite side of the room.
The Illicit Revealed (The Illicit Series Book 2) Page 6