The Finished Masterpiece (Master of Trickery Book 3)

by Pepper Winters

  My voice thickened. “I’m guilty, O. Those girl’s deaths smear my hands, and I’m done. Tonight is the last time he’ll ask me to kill.”

  Olin mumbled something in her sleep, her lips working with mysterious words.

  I needed to believe she’d heard me and understood.

  In reality, if she had heard, she’d condemn me to the devil and rightfully so.

  My fingers feathered over her hip where her painted-lacy underwear ruined the perfection of smooth branches and tiny, silver olive leaves. Inside the seam rested the GPS tracker. I prayed to everything holy that it worked and didn’t fail me.

  I was placing all my faith in its accuracy.

  I was gambling my daughter’s life as well as O’s that Jeffrey would return to his unfindable location with Olin and keep her alive long enough for me to hunt.

  The small piece of technology hadn’t warmed from her body; it didn’t feel like a friend...merely another foe I couldn’t trust.

  “I’m a bastard, O, but I’m not giving up. He’s bled me dry of everything. I hate what I’ve become. But he can’t have Olive, and he can’t have you. It’s over. It’s time for him to feel what it’s like to die.”

  My hands curled into fists, tasting the black satisfaction of murdering a murderer. I had the perfect weapon to do it. It sat quiet and unassuming in my left pocket, ready to steal his life.

  Once he was dead, I’d gather my daughter and soul-mate and walk back into the light.

  And if he kills them before you get to him?

  My rage once again became brittle with fear.

  My plan was flimsy and chaotic, but it was the best I had.

  I’d been backed into a corner and was willing to do whatever it took.

  Including sacrificing myself if it comes to it.

  My eyes continued to trace O’s prettily painted face while I shifted her weight into one arm. Stopping for a moment, I pulled my phone free from my right pocket.

  It was time to send plan B.

  Bringing up the message I’d typed to Justin moments before O arrived at my warehouse, I fought the urge to be sick all over again.

  To see what I’d become in black and white...to re-read my crimes.

  Fuck.

  This sort of message wasn’t meant to be sent. Justin and I didn’t exactly have the sort of relationship where any of this was acceptable.

  We’d just bumped into each other by chance, and instead of him walking away like he should have, he’d barged into my world and refused to take no for an answer. Our ‘friendship’ consisted of him being far too forgiving and me being a fucking asshole.

  He reminded me too much of O’s kindness—constantly tormenting me with memories of them together...kissing.

  But each time he’d turned up at my warehouse, his presence somehow gave me the energy to keep going. To paint another commission. To pay another bribe. To keep my secrets hidden because, despite my outward unwelcome, he’d become needed.

  Needed to keep me human so I wasn’t a total monster when I finally rescued my daughter.

  I owed him so fucking much.

  And this message...well, it sold me into debt that I would never be able to repay.

  Miller,

  I have so many things to say, but I don’t know how to say any of them.

  I’ll begin with the simplest one.

  Thank you.

  You’re a better man than I’ll ever be. You’ve had my back. You’ve helped me book commissions. You’ve nodded when I’ve snarled at you. And you never once asked why I was such a twat.

  This message should end here. It should be a simple thank you.

  Unfortunately...I have a favour to ask.

  I’ve named you executor of my estate.

  Why?

  Because I’m involved in the painted murders.

  I’ve helped take lives to save a life.

  The life of my daughter.

  Olive.

  The story of her origin isn’t important, but what is important is, I will do whatever it takes to save her.

  And this is the part where you’ll hate me all the more.

  I know you cared for O.

  I love her with all my fucking heart, but...I need you to help her.

  Along with this message is a link to a GPS tracker. The device is hidden on Olin. She is the next victim, and I’m doing everything I can to keep her alive.

  But...if I fail.

  If I die.

  I need you to find her before it’s too late.

  Call the police. Tell them everything.

  Find her, rescue her, keep her.

  And...when you find her, please find my daughter too.

  My heart belongs to both of them.

  If I’ve failed...please take care of them.

  I name you godfather.

  Keep my loved ones as your own.

  Tell O I’m sorry.

  Tell my daughter that I tried.

  Chapter Five

  ______________________________

  Olin

  -The Present-

  “YOU’RE LATE.”

  My eyes struggled against the heavy curtains pulling them down. A cloak of sleepiness and weighted imprisonment.

  Gil’s arms twitched around me, his deep rumble of a voice threatening and soothing all at once. “It’s a long walk.”

  “Long walk or not, you took your time on this one, Gilbert. Dangerous time.” The man’s tone changed, speaking to someone younger and innocent. “Look who decided to join us, sweetheart. Told you he’d turn up.”

  I squirmed to focus on whoever he spoke to. A camping light hung in a tree, illuminating the small clearing. My eyes closed again, my muscles ignoring my commands in favour of exhaustion.

  But this time, I fought back.

  I fought hard.

  I moaned and clawed my way to the surface.

  This is important.

  It was imperative I had wits and wisdom, flight and fight.

  I couldn’t quite remember why, but...

  Killers.

  Painters.

  I’m next.

  Standing in the gloom of the false moon lashed to the tree, a man stood with a calculating grin on his face. Beside him stood a child. A girl with long sooty hair, her pretty eyes huge as a nocturnal creature better suited for darkness, not light.

  “Get your fucking hands off her.” Gil’s entire body stiffened as his gaze landed on the child. His chest heaved against me, his heart thundering painfully. “Hey, Olive Oyl. You okay?” His voice echoed with grief and the gravity of seeing a little girl with an older man’s paw resting on her shoulders in the woods.

  My own stomach churned at the picture.

  Olive?

  Olive!

  His dream, his nightmare, the love of his life.

  Olive...the consequence of rape.

  “Hey, Daddy....” Her face scrunched up with worry. “I missed you.”

  “Oh, God. I missed you too, little spinach.” Gil’s legs gave out, forcing him to stumble forward and place me as gently as he could on the ground. His voice cracked. “Wow...you’ve grown so big.”

  She smiled cautiously. “Uncle Jeffrey said I could come see you.”

  “That’s great.” Gil dared look at the guy holding her captive. His entire body trembled to rush forward and grab her. “You finally brought her? After a goddamn year of keeping her from me?”

  “Be grateful I was feeling generous.” The guy chuckled quietly, his hand waving permission to continue conversation.

  Gil cleared his throat, doing his best to find strength I feared he no longer had. His eyes drank in his daughter as if he was drowning. “You okay? God, I’ve missed you so much.”

  Olive cried quietly. “You don’t look so good. Are you okay?”

  “I am now that I’m with you.” Gil strangled a laugh. “Missing you is hard work.” He forced a wink, his face twisting with relief and terror. “I haven’t had anyone to help me cook spinach lately.
” He added wobbly humour into his tone. “Know anywhere I can get some out here? Could do with a shot of strength right about now.”

  Olive kicked her dirty sneaker into the earth, no longer willing to talk. “Are you not strong like Popeye anymore?”

  Gil flinched. “I am now you’re here.”

  Olive sniffed. “Daddy, I want to go home.”

  The love in her voice. The yearning and need. She adored Gil. Totally in love with her father just like he was in love with her.

  I wanted to hate her.

  I wanted something to direct my rage at Gil’s molestation. Jane Tallup deserved to be publicly shamed and then shot...but her daughter? The little girl who stood in the darkness wasn’t her awful mother.

  She was afraid and small and trapped.

  And she needed her father.

  Desperately.

  Another wash of tiredness tried to suck me under.

  Something hurt me deep, deep inside.

  My heart cried for this small family who’d been ripped apart by greed. My head pounded for freedom for all of us.

  Gil’s entire fight vanished; he left me lying on the bracken, raking both hands through his hair as he stood upright on exhausted legs. “I want that too. And we’re going home. Tonight we’re going—”

  “Ah, ah, ah, making promises you can’t keep again, Gilbert?”

  Whatever drugs Gil had fed me fractured at the man’s tone.

  Him.

  The black van.

  The asshole who beat up Gil all because I’d used the word us.

  Gil stiffened; his face turned black. “I’m done playing this pathetic game, Jeffery.” His voice dripped with menace. No more distress, only danger. “I’ve given you everything I have. I have nothing left. You hear me? Nothing. You’ve made damn sure of that. Just let me take my daughter and—”

  “Not so fast.”

  The little girl shot forward, spying an opportunity to run. “Daddy!” She bowled toward Gil, her arms outstretched, her face afraid. “Please—”

  She didn’t get very far.

  Jeffrey swiped at her, catching the hood of the lemon jacket she wore. Wrenching her back, he tutted under his breath. “That’s rude, sweetheart.” Ducking to his haunches, he yanked the girl into the cage made by his legs. “Living with me hasn’t been so bad, has it? You’ve enjoyed the toys I gave you. You said you did.” He shook her. “Be a grateful little girl, sweetheart. Go on.”

  Olive sniffed back tears, nodding bravely. “Yes, Uncle Jeffrey. Thank you for the toys.”

  “And?”

  “And for taking care of me when Daddy couldn’t.”

  Gil roared with fury. “Leave her the hell alone.”

  “There’s a good girl.” Jeffrey spoke to Olive before rising to his feet. “I see you brought me a gift, Gilbert.” He acted as if he hadn’t heard Gil bellow at him. He behaved as if this meeting in the woods was perfectly rational behaviour.

  “Name your price,” Gil snarled. “Any figure. I’ll give it to you. A million? Ten? I’ll do whatever it takes to pay you. Just let it be about the money and forget about O and Olive.”

  He bartered for my life.

  He begged for Olive’s.

  My brain short-circuited, unable to accept such wrongness.

  The drugs snatched me back.

  My world went dark and silent.

  I slipped.

  Slipped from chilly forest to soft clouds.

  Blackness.

  Blankness.

  A void.

  * * * * *

  I came to, being collected gently from the forest floor, only to be placed at the feet of the man who’d destroyed Gil’s life.

  I was cold.

  The ground was prickly and painful on my bare, painted skin.

  Gil’s face hovered above mine as my eyes shot wide.

  I was coherent and blazingly aware, if only for a moment.

  His eyes held lines only old men who’d buried loved ones and survived holocausts should carry. His lips were bitten and cheeks sunken. He barely looked alive, sucked dry by the devil keeping his daughter as collateral.

  “It’s always been you, O. Always.” He kissed me softly; his voice sullied with despair. “But...I never had a choice.” His lips skated over mine again, shivering with apologetic misery.

  “D-Don’t...” I blinked madly, fighting the binds of tiredness, wishing my tongue worked as well as my vision.

  But it was too late.

  Gil placed me tenderly at the feet of a murderer.

  “Now, get back.” Jeffrey pointed a finger at Gil as if he was an unruly wolf. “You know what we agreed.”

  What did they agree?

  What did I miss while I’d been sucked back into sleep?

  Gil tripped backward. “Please.”

  I struggled to sit up, to dig my palms into the dirt and stop this madness. My mind might be awake, but my body definitely wasn’t. It was loose and languid, powerless and prone.

  It took every bit of energy I had to twist my head to keep Gil insight.

  He looked as if he wanted to rip Jeffery into pieces all while he slowly fell to his knees and prepared to beg. He might have resorted to pleading, but there was nothing pathetic about him. Nothing useless or inadequate about a man willing to lower himself to dirt for those he loved.

  He was regal, a legend, a father who knew where his loyalties lay and what love demanded.

  He was the reason I was here.

  His paint on my skin, and my death on his hands.

  He didn’t deserve my forgiveness, but he did have my understanding.

  I had no choice but to understand the depths of his pain and desperation whenever he looked at his daughter. It blazed all over him like a physical entity. A power he couldn’t deny.

  His hands banded together in prayer as his gaze flickered from me to Olive. His throat worked as he swallowed hard, his voice strangled and dying. “Name it, Jeffrey. What do I have to do—”

  “Keep delivering what we agreed.”

  “I have. Thousands of times over.”

  “Yes, but retirement is expensive.”

  “I’ll pay your every bill and whim until the day you die, just let me take them home.”

  Jeffrey chuckled coldly, wrapping his fist in Olive’s hair.

  She cried out, flinching as he pulled her cruelly into his side. “You think I’d trust you to pay without incentive?”

  “I give you my word.” Gil swallowed again, his face white and strained. “You’ll always be rich. I’ll give everything I have—”

  “Enough,” Jeffrey shouted. “Get out of my sight before you humiliate yourself further.”

  “You can’t take her again.” Gil scrambled to his feet, his fists curled and shaking by his sides. “Keep your side of the bargain.” He winced, looking at me bound and drugged on a bed of twigs and leaves. “Olin for Olive. I’ve paid your price.” His hand came up, waiting for a smaller one to fit into his. “Give me my daughter.”

  “Popeye,” Olive whimpered.

  Jeffrey snickered, yanking her against his leg. “Change of plans.”

  Gil’s face lost any sign of vulnerability. His eyes shuttered, his lips thinned. Aggression rippled over him. “Give her to me. I won’t ask again.”

  My heart picked up, filtering the drug and granting a tiny trickle of strength to limbs tingling and tight from being tethered.

  “I like how you think you’re in the position to threaten me.” Jeffrey snaked his arm around Olive’s shoulders, hugging her close. “Maybe I’ll keep both of them, tighten your leash a little more.”

  Olive winced, curling into herself.

  Jeffrey sighed dramatically. “And you used to be so obedient.”

  Gil bared his teeth, his entire body vibrating with pure hatred. “A deal is a deal.”

  I wanted him to win.

  I wanted his daughter to be saved and no longer living with a madman.

  But if he won, that meant I l
ost.

  I would die in her place, and my survival instinct wouldn’t let that happen.

  Flexing my fingers and toes, I willed more blood to circulate, to wash me clean, to give me power.

  Slowly, my body shed the garment of lethargy, answering my commands.

  Gil stormed forward, all negotiations and pleasantries over. He looked as if he’d tear Jeffrey’s head right off his shoulders.

  I wanted him to.

  Kill him.

  Save us both.

  But it only took Jeffrey the smallest move to halt Gil mid-step. His hand vanished behind him, whipping forward with a gun. “Decide. Here and now.” The black weapon glinted in the lamplight, morbid and menacing. He swung the muzzle to face me. “The woman you love?” Almost lazily, he tracked the weapon to wedge against Olive’s temple. “Or your daughter?”

  She froze like a tiny rabbit. Teeth locked on her bottom lip. Her shivers pure fear.

  Gil struggled to breathe. His eyes shot black, cursing Jeffrey to purgatory for even pointing a gun at his child. “I promise you, you motherfucker, if you shoot either of them, you’ll be dead a second after.”

  The two men’s eyes locked.

  A silent war passed between them.

  Finally, Jeffrey nodded and waved the gun at the dense blackness just out of reach of the lamp. “I think I’ll keep both alive...for now. Higher incentive for you to pad my retirement a little more, don’t you think?”

  “I’m not painting any more girls.”

  “So you don’t agree with my little hobby?”

  Gil couldn’t hide the growl in his chest. “Killing for sport is—”

  “A recognised pastime,” Jeffrey sneered. “Hunters shoot deer. Humans eat animals. Anything with a heartbeat is killable.” He grinned darkly. “I just happen to like the two-legged variety.”

  Gil spat on the ground. “I’ll kill you, you son of a bitch.”

  “Perhaps.” He laughed, way too confident and assured. “But as long as I have your daughter, you’re my puppet. So...I expect you to keep dancing on your strings.” He waved the gun again. “Now, run along, Mr. Popeye, and don’t forget to eat some spinach. Olive Oyl is right; you aren’t looking so good.”