Payback Princess (Lost Daughter of a Serial Killer Book 2)

by C. M. Stunich

  “I don’t care about shoes,” I murmur, dumping my purse on the floor. I don’t care if Justin heard everything I just said; he didn’t quote that book on accident. He was hoping I’d pick up on that clue.

  Because he planned this. He was hoping for this. He wanted me to follow the clues in the right order, only to end up here, tonight. Milk Carton just so happened to locate pictures of Parrish today. It’s all coming together.

  “Let’s go,” I take off for the back door of the garage, hoping that I’m going the right way.

  Chasm pauses to open the trunk of his car, yanking out a pair of sneakers and shoving them at my chest.

  “Put them on. You’ll move faster with shoes.”

  I grumble, but I do as he asks, shoving my feet into the shoes as quickly as I can and yanking the laces tight. They’re huge on me, but better than walking on gravel barefooted.

  We head outside and find ourselves in a small side yard with a gate. On the other side of the garage, I can hear people talking and laughing, enjoying the warm evening air. But over here, we’re cloaked in shadows. A security camera’s red eye winks at us as we pass, but we ignore it.

  Chas opens the gate and out we go, onto a small street with no sidewalks. There aren’t many in Medina anyway; it has a bit of a rural feel at times. Pretty sure the residents here would gate the whole thing off if they could, keep their little enclave of rich assholes behind lock and key.

  Wouldn’t help though, would it? Seeing as they’re each other’s worst enemies.

  I lift my skirts up, fisting the tulle in both hands as we make our way down the road. Even though the place is just ‘two doors down’, it’s a long walk. All of the properties that line Lake Washington are huge, sprawling manors with their own grounds.

  I find myself starting to jog, and then run. The boys don’t complain. Actually, they have zero trouble keeping up with me. We pound down the grassy strip beside the street until we run into a metal gate with a dark house situated in the trees at the end of a long drive.

  The gate, of course, is locked, and none of us knows the damn code.

  “Now what?” I ask as Maxx looks up at the black metal gate, letting his eyes drift to one side. The entire estate is surrounded by a brick wall that’s about six feet tall and dripping with ivy. He wets his lips and then moves over to it, hopping up and grabbing onto the top and hauling himself up with very little effort.

  As soon as he’s situated atop it, he turns around and then offers out a hand.

  “Boost her up, Chas,” he says, and Chasm kneels down, one leg bent back and flat against the ground, the other propped up so that I can use his thigh as a step. I don’t hesitate, putting my foot on his leg and pushing myself up with the help of the wall.

  Maxx snatches my hand and hauls me up to sit beside him before reaching down and offering similar help to Chasm. Luckily, the extra height he has on him makes it a little easier.

  Both boys hop gracefully down on the other side, but I’m not nearly as athletic as they are, eyeing the ground with a small surge of discomfort.

  “Here,” Maxx says, holding up his arms. “Jump to me. I’ll catch you, Kota.”

  “You’ve got this, Little Sister,” Chasm encourages, but as appreciated as their kind words are, I don’t need them.

  I said I’d do anything for Parrish. This? This is nothing.

  I throw myself down into Maxx’s arms, pale pink skirts fluttering around me, my tiara lilting to one side. He catches me with a small grunt, yanking me close to him for a brief moment before reaching up to fix the tiara for me. There’s a slight smile on his face that has everything to do with his hands on my hips and nothing to do with the situation.

  We separate, but it hurts a little. Because … this could be it. For us … and for Parrish.

  Still, it’s a trade we’re all more than willing to make. I’m sure I’m not the only one who would sever every relationship I had just to make sure he was safe.

  It’s something I’ve very nearly done already, right?

  Come on, Gamer Girl. If you’re half as clever as you wish you were, this could be it.

  We could also very well be on the verge of getting arrested for breaking and entering, but it’s worth a try.

  Sometimes, assumptions have to be made in order to solve difficult puzzles.

  We approach the grand entrance of the house with slow, wary steps, listening to the quiet for any sound of approaching footsteps or barking dogs. Security guards and Dobermans are very real possibilities in an area like this. I’m betting Tess wishes she’d hired the goons that have been guarding our house sooner rather than later.

  Not that it would’ve saved Parrish.

  I have a feeling Justin would’ve found a way, regardless. How he did it, I’m still not sure. Maybe I’ll never know, but I couldn’t care less about that than I do right now.

  We ascend the front steps together, pausing to glance up at a very obvious security camera.

  Hmm.

  “Now what?” Chasm asks as he yanks on the handle of the front door. But Maxx is already two steps ahead of us, wrapping his wrist in his jacket and giving me a cocky little smile.

  “Allow me,” he says, and then he punches the glass of one of the first-floor windows, shattering it. “Thank fuck this is an older house; Chasm’s place has bulletproof glass on all the windows.”

  I give him a look and he shrugs.

  “My dad’s a paranoid nut,” he admits as Maxx knocks away at the glass so that there’s a space large enough for us to climb in. As soon as we do, Chasm freezes, his eyes drawn to a flashing panel on the wall. “Motherfucker, silent alarm,” he murmurs, striding over to it and pressing his thumb against the screen.

  “Should we make a quick search for the cellar and then get the fuck out of here?” Maxx suggests, but Chasm’s already shaking his head, leaning down to peer at the screen.

  “Nope. This is a Fort Humboldt system; I’ve got this.” I watch in awe as he pries the top half of the panel from the wall, pulling a lighter from the pocket of his jacket. No doubt he has a few cigarettes stashed in there, too. He flicks the wheel and uses the flame to melt one of, like, a hundred wires, exhaling when the screen goes dark. “Hopefully, I caught it before the alarm signal went out.” He slips the lighter back into his pocket. “If not, we’ve got maybe … three minutes before someone shows up to check on the house. That, and I can’t control the cameras.” He points in the general direction of the exterior camera we passed beneath. “If someone’s watching the feed, we might be in trouble.”

  I look around at the darkened interior of the place. It has a musty smell, like maybe it’s been a while since someone lived here. Some of the paintings are missing from the walls—evident by the slight discoloration left behind—and many of the shelves and tables seem a bit bare.

  “Looks like the family’s starting to sell off the more valuable items,” Maxx guesses. “Assuming we’re in the right house, and the guy really is dead. That, or we’re about to get hauled off to juvie.” He pauses and then cringes like he’s just thought of something. “Fuck. I mean, you’ll both be hauled off to juvie. Guess I’d go to the county jail?”

  “Let’s make this quick then,” Chasm says as he moves over to the wall and flicks on a light. It works, and the living room lights up with the glow of two sconces on our right. Maxx cringes slightly, giving the lights a nervous look.

  “Is that a smart idea? What if somebody sees the lights on?”

  “We’re either fucked from the alarm or not. Nobody can see past that gate and all those trees. Let’s just not turn too many on, okay?” Chasm takes off and we follow behind him, eschewing the staircase to focus on the bottom floor. If Parrish is here, and he’s in a wine cellar, then it’s down we need, not up.

  But two quick rounds on the bottom floor followed by a much slower third sweep yields nothing.

  Nothing.

  I grit my teeth in frustration, certain that I’ve figured this out. I re
ad that book three times. If I hadn’t, I would never have recognized that quote. On top of that, we had to match Armando Vasquez’s name to the list of wine aficionados in Medina.

  Maybe there’s one more clue here? Something that I’m missing …

  I start walking the bottom floor again, taking note of all the missing items. In comparison, the paintings that are left almost seem to stand out. I study them, searching for anything, any scrap to cling onto.

  Maxx and Chasm are patient with me, following me around but focusing their attention on other things. Checking bookcases for hidden doors, scooting furniture around to look for possible entrances in the floor.

  “We might need to head upstairs,” Chasm remarks after our fifth round on the bottom floor.

  Instead, I pause beside one of the paintings. There’s nothing remarkable about it, just a somber portrait of some old dude with a receding hairline. It’s the small gold placard on the bottom of the frame that catches my attention.

  See, I told you: I play a lot of video games.

  Alfred Armando Vasquez.

  Blue and red lights flicker at the edge of my vision, and I glance to the left just in time to see a police cruiser pull into the driveway.

  Fuck. My. Life.

  “We need to go, Kota,” Maxx tells me, putting his hands on my shoulders.

  But I can’t. Not yet. My heart is racing, slamming against my ribs while sweat pours down the sides of my face. Please let me be right. Please, please, please.

  “In Agatha Christie’s book, The Mysterious Affair at Styles, the murderer turns out to be her husband—Alfred Inglethorp.” I point at the placard. Alfred.

  “You have like, fifteen seconds,” Chas whispers, flicking off the lights and moving to stand beside us. I reach up, running my hand along the edge of the frame. I’m not sure what I’m looking for. A hidden note taped to the side of the painting? A key on the top edge of the frame maybe?

  I definitely don’t expect a latch.

  My fingers brush against it, and I press down with a satisfying clicking sound.

  The wall we’re standing in front of is made up of floor-to-ceiling wood panels. And I don’t mean, like, seventies ones made of plywood or pressed fiberboard; I’m talking real nice, real expensive hardwood panels.

  The panel beneath the painting as well as the one below it swing inward slightly.

  It’s a door.

  It’s a fucking goddamn door.

  I push it inward with my palm, Maxx and Chasm following behind me.

  “Holy shit, Kota,” Maxx whispers as Chasm reaches behind us, yanking the hidden door back into place. “You are a mega badass.”

  Chasm murmurs something in Korean that, although I don’t understand it, sounds a lot like hearty agreement.

  We all freeze at the sound of the house’s front door opening. Footsteps follow after and then there’s a murmured conversation that’s too low for any of us to make out. Meanwhile, we’re all clustered in a small dark hallway. So dark, in fact, that I can hardly see my hand in front of my face.

  The footsteps move away, and there’s the sound of the front door closing again. Everything goes quiet.

  “The hell?” Chas murmurs, and then he dares to crack the hidden door, peeking out around it. “The cop is leaving.”

  Chills skitter down my spine, and my heart swells in my chest. I slide my hand against the wall, searching for a light switch. Soon after, I find what I’m looking for and flick it.

  Light blooms in the small hallway, revealing a set of stone stairs.

  Stone stairs that go down.

  I glance back, meeting Maxx’s wide green eyes and Chasm’s narrowed amber ones.

  I turn toward the staircase.

  “Parrish?” I call out hesitantly, careful to keep my voice low. “Are you here?”

  I start down the steps, putting out an arm when Maxx tries to move in front of me. He’s chivalrous and protective, and I love it, but also …

  “Parrish?” I start, just a little louder, moving down the last of the steps and rounding the corner.

  There’s another hallway with several wooden doors set into either side. I count four in total.

  Silence. Silence. Silence …

  “Dakota?” a voice chokes out from behind the first door, and my entire world shifts, turns upside down, explodes.

  My body breaks out in goose bumps, and my ears start to ring.

  “Parrish!” His name breaks out of me in a scream, and then I’m running without remembering to tell me legs to move. I skid on the stone floor as I come to a stop in front of the door, reaching my hands up to the metal bars near the top.

  Fingers—inked fingers—reach out and curl around mine.

  Heat floods my body, and I realize suddenly that I’m crying and clinging and grabbing at those beautiful fingers like I’ll die if I don’t maintain that grip, if I don’t feel those warm hands on my skin.

  I lift up on my toes to look past the bars and there he is.

  There. He. Is.

  Parrish Vanguard.

  A cry escapes me as we wrap our fingers together and he pulls my hands in toward him, pressing kisses to my knuckles. His face is just as beautiful as always, but he’s lost a little color. Whether from the blood loss or from living in a stone-walled room underground, I’m not sure. I don’t care.

  I found him.

  I found him.

  I …

  “We found you,” I whisper as he kisses my hands and then pulls my arms in as far as he can, pressing his forehead to my knuckles. His eyes are closed, and I can hear him panting on the other side of the door, his teeth gritted the way they were that night in the basement, when he was so full of emotion that he didn’t know what to do with it.

  “Gamer Girl,” he murmurs. “Gamer Girl. Dakota. My Dakota.”

  “Parrish,” a voice chokes out from behind me, and we both pause as Parrish opens those gorgeous eyes of his. I’ve always compared them to a feast of sorts, like dark chocolate and toasted coconut with drops of golden honey. I feel like a starving person in a way I’ve never experienced before, like this is the first bite of solid food I’ve had in years.

  It’s Chasm, stepping up behind me and yanking on the door handle. It’s locked—but at least we have the skeleton key with us. Maxx hands it over to Chas without a word, and he tries it on the door, but it doesn’t work. He frowns, but only for a moment, lifting his gaze back up to his best friend.

  “I can’t believe you’re actually here,” Parrish whispers, eyes flicking over to look at Maxx.

  “You were sorely missed,” X breathes back, awe and relief and affection fighting for the prominent emotion in his quavering voice. “The world is not the same without you, Pear-Pear.”

  “Don’t call me Pear-Pear,” Parrish says with a small laugh, his voice husky and thick. He hasn’t let go of my hands. He ends up rubbing his face against my knuckles again, pressing hot kisses as he goes. Even with the distance between us, the time and space and bullshit and everything else, his touch burns straight through to my heart. My knees nearly buckle at the overwhelming sense of relief, but I won’t let them. Because that would mean being separated from Parrish, and I’ll never allow that. Not ever again.

  Never.

  “We’ve missed you so much,” Chasm tells him, the barest hint of an accent creeping into his voice the way it does when he’s overwhelmed. He says something else in Korean, and Parrish smiles with that full, lush pouty mouth of his.

  He responds in time, and Maxx adds on, and the three of them laugh. I don’t even care that I can’t understand what they’re saying; the sound of their mirth is too beautiful for me to keep the emotions back. Tears run down my face that Parrish very carefully brushes away by sticking his right arm through the bars. The feel of his thumb on my cheek makes every horrible, angst-filled moment worth it.

  Even though I had to hurt Maxine, even though I slept with Chasm and X, even though I made Tess hate me more than she already did. Ev
en though I set the theatre on fire and caused Lumen and Danyella to turn against me. Smashed up a parking garage full of luxury cars. Delivered a dead maid’s body. Shot a rapist’s corpse.

  None of that matters right now.

  “I’ve missed you, too,” Parrish whispers back, narrowing his eyes to slits the way he does when he’s fighting surges of strong emotion. “But I’m scared for you. You should probably go.”

  “Yeah, fuck that,” Chasm snaps back, yanking on his hair with his hand and spinning in a small circle. He points at his best friend with a shaking hand. “You can just knock that self-sacrificial bullshit off; I don’t want to hear it. It’s waste of all our fucking time. We need to get you out of here.”

  Parrish exhales, pressing another kiss to my hand and rubbing his face against me again.

  “I don’t know how you’re supposed to get in here. Trust me: I’ve tried every method I can think of to get out. You need the key.” I shiver at the sound of Parrish’s beautiful voice. My King of Sloths. My Lackadaisical Lord. My stepbrother. My first time. My first love.

  “There has to be a way to get him out,” Maxx says, his green eyes still focused on Parrish. “Justin wanted us to find him, so—” Maxx pauses, moving around to block me from the footsteps echoing down from the staircase.

  Mr. Volli appears a moment later, offering up a dramatic slow clap that just fucking infuriates me.

  “Congratulations!” he says as Parrish, Maxx, and Chasm all scowl at the same moment. I keep my fingers tangled with Parrish’s, refusing to let go. “You did it. Justin will be so proud of you. He was hoping you’d find him tonight, actually. All of his plans hinged upon it.”

  “Get him out,” I demand, my face turned toward Volli, but my body still angled toward the door. “Justin said he’d never lie to me. Well, I found Parrish. He’s mine now, according to him.”

  “You’re right,” Mr. Volli agrees, leaning his shoulder against the stone wall beside him. “If Justin cares about someone, he is a man of his word. Parrish is yours, but first, you’re going to help us with something.” Mr. Volli reaches inside his brown tweed jacket and pulls out a gun. Just like that day with Mr. Fosser. He taps the butt of it against his palm. “Oh, and don’t even think about trying to overpower me.” He gives Maxx a warning look just as we all pause at the sound of even more footsteps coming from the opposite direction.