Fame And Secrets (Lords Of Lyre Book 2)

by Cora Kenborn

  “Well, I don’t give a shit as long as I get my money.”

  Why can’t I place that voice?

  The answer danced on the edge of my memory, and I almost had it when the vehicle hit a pothole. My head flew up and slammed against the hard floor. Whatever recognition I almost had was lost as I faded back into darkness.

  ***

  “Wakey, wakey, princess. The fun is about to start.”

  I took a deep breath and coughed. The warm breath against my ear was rancid—a combination of cigarettes and poor hygiene. I knew it in an instant.

  “Are you deaf, girl? I said wake up.”

  I grunted as a steel toed boot sank into my stomach. Wheezing from the unexpected blow, I slowly opened heavy eyes to face him. My head still throbbed, but mental clarity returned as I came face to face with the monster of my nightmares. The face that haunted me every time I closed my eyes.

  I looked into the cold, dead eyes of my father.

  He was much thinner, his salt and pepper hair almost fully gray now. His thick, bushy eyebrows dominated his forehead, hovering over wideset, faint blue eyes. Julian loved my eyes. I hated them. I now remembered why as I gazed into an exact replica; except his were soulless and vacant, without a shred of humanity. But it was his mouth that I instinctively recoiled from. He wore a new scar down his mouth that split into a gruesome grin displaying yellowed and broken teeth.

  I shivered, but I refused to look away. When I didn’t answer fast enough, he raised his hand, and my head flew to the side as the back of his hand connected with my cheekbone. I heard a crack, and pain radiated down the side of my face. Turning my chin back to him, I held his stare.

  You can’t have my fear anymore.

  “Still nothin’ to say? Just like your mama. She always liked getting knocked around too.”

  “Where’s my daughter?” I wouldn’t give in to his taunting. He wanted to provoke me. I wanted him focused.

  He shook his head. “Never learned respect, did ya, girl?”

  “Where’s my daughter?” I repeated as my cheek swelled.

  Grinning, he bent down and hovered against my ear again. “You remember what happened to that unicorn, dontcha, princess?”

  Memories of canine teeth ripping the stuffing to shreds as growls echoed around me filled my head.

  “You son of a bitch! What the fuck did you do to my baby?” I jerked my arm forward to hit him, only to find it bound to the chair behind me. I pulled on my other arm and found it in the same situation. I closed my eyes and screamed in his face. “Let me go!”

  He laughed maniacally as I continued screaming, my throat constricting along worn out vocal chords. Black spots clouded my vision. Without warning, his hand wrapped around my throat, lifting the chair from the floor. I gasped for air, desperately twisting my chin from his fist.

  “That’s for me to know and you to find out, princess.” He gave my throat one last squeeze and released his hold, the chair falling back to the floor with a thud. Gasping, I coughed and forced air back into my lungs.

  I wanted to cry. I was desperate to cry. But I wouldn’t.

  “I’ll kill you.” I choked out the words through a garbled whisper.

  He smiled. “Not if I kill you first.” Turning to walk out, he hooked his toe through one leg of the chair and flipped it. The momentum sent me sprawling onto my side, my forehead and hip slamming against the hard, concrete floor. Sliding my chin across the rough stone, I smelled and tasted blood. I tried to look at him one last time, but with the position the chair had me in, I couldn’t face the door.

  He hummed as I heard the click of the lock opening. “Little Bo Peep has lost her sheep and doesn’t know where to find them; leave them alone, and they’ll come home, wagging their tails behind them.”

  “Fuck you!” I screamed as he closed the door.

  Crying silently on the cold floor, the only sounds I heard were my own pathetic wails. Forcing myself to calm down. I took a shuddering breath and spit out the blood that pooled in my cheek.

  It took a moment to realize I still heard crying. I held my breath, just to confirm to myself that the sounds weren’t coming from my own voice. In the quiet of the room, with my lungs expanded full of held breath…I heard it.

  Faint cries followed by a long gurgle, three successive hiccups, and a sneeze.

  ***

  I’d dozed off by the time he came back in. He righted my chair and took something out of his back pocket. The man and woman from the car assembled equipment behind him. I still didn’t recognize the woman, but with one glance, I knew why the man’s voice resonated with me.

  “Why?” Tears filled my eyes.

  McKellan shrugged as he set a camera in front of me. “Money, sweetheart. Your man’s rich but he’s tight as fuck with a dollar. I go where the money takes me.”

  I let the tears fall. “He’s a felon. You swore to protect me. We trusted you.”

  He finally faced me, his eyes as dead as my father’s. “You should run better background checks, baby.”

  The guy was just as crazy as my father. His predatory nature made me shiver, but I kept my eyes on him. Life with my father taught me that once they knew you feared them, they had you.

  Making a conscious decision not to tip my hand about hearing Iris cry, I focused on my father’s actions. He stood in front of me as a woman with short blond hair walked behind me.

  “What are you doing?”

  Casting a sideways glance, he smirked and nodded to the assembled tripod. “We’re going to make a little video.” He opened his hand, revealing a dirty yellow scarf, and I squeezed my eyes shut. “Open your eyes, princess.” I shook my head violently. “Open your eyes, or I’ll open them for you.”

  Reluctantly, I peeled my eyelids back. The smile returned as he spoke directly into the camera. I couldn’t make out what he said until he stomped behind me in his dirty, worn brogans, tightening the scarf in each hand.

  “Remember this, son? Should’ve listened to the little woman.”

  I opened my mouth to scream, but he’d already wound it around my neck and pulled tight. Struggling, I thrashed to free my neck from the crushing pain on my windpipe. As the lights above twinkled and faded, I saw him lick his lips and face the camera.

  “One down, one to go.”

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Julian

  “I heard a phone ring.”

  Chloe ran from the kitchen to the living room where Ryker, Zane, Faith, and I sat, not speaking. Hough spent the majority of the morning hovering over the FBI table. Ty sat next to my mother, handing her new tissues. Thank god for Ty. Mom was a crying mess. I knew she needed comfort, but I couldn’t be the one to offer it. I needed to focus and keep a clear head.

  Ryker held his cell phone in front of Chloe’s blotchy face. “Our manager. She called to check on us.”

  Chloe pinched her lips between her finger and thumb to control the constant whimpering she’d been doing since she got here. “Oh. I just hoped…”

  I had no clue who picked Phoebe’s sister up from the airport two days ago. Whether she was here or not made not a damn bit of difference to me. I had a plan brewing in my head, and no part of it included most of the people in the room.

  I vaguely recognized hushed mumbling from the table and glanced up to see Hough nodding profusely, his head wobbling on his skinny neck.

  Before I knew it, he’d cleared the distance in front of me, his phone mashed against his face. “Yes, what’s the ETA? Fifteen? Fine. Yes, let the guard know. We’ll be waiting.”

  The hair on my neck bristled. “Is it about Phoebe?” When he held up a finger in my face, I knocked it away and stood. I had a good two inches on him. “Answer me, goddamn it.”

  Ending the call, he palmed the back of his neck. “Calm the hell down, Bale.” I backed a few steps away and glared at his phone. “That was the postmaster. He’s identified a package addressed to you. Agent Young flagged anything addressed to this house to be held and
rerouted to a holding tank.” He lifted his stare. “It’s on its way.”

  Every eye in the room watched the clock on the cable box as each minute changed to a new number. Pacing, sitting, tapping my feet—nothing helped to calm my nerves or distract me from watching the clock. Just as I lifted my head to demand Jaxon call them back, the door creaked and flew open. Everson stood in the entryway with a small rectangular brown box tucked under his arm.

  “Been dusted and scanned. All’s good.” He handed it off to Hough.

  Before he could get a finger inside the opening, I grabbed it out of his hands. At the frayed ends of my rope, I tore into the box, shredding the cardboard like notebook paper. What fell into my hands confused me. I stared at it, not understanding what to do next.

  “DVD?” Ryker spoke up, his voice raised in a question.

  Agent Hyatt called out from the dining room, turning her laptop around. “My laptop has an external media drive hooked up. If there’s a virus on it, the spyware on this thing will quarantine the hell out of it. Bring it over.”

  In a daze, I carried the case like some sort of offering. Taking it, she popped it open and inserted it into her computer. I felt everyone in the room close in behind me and the air stagnated.

  Within seconds an image emerged on the screen. Voices mumbled, one female, a few male. Suddenly, a bright light illuminated the entire room and an audible gasp resonated behind me. Every muscle in my neck tightened.

  The camera panned to Phoebe. She was tied to a chair, her face bruised and bloody. A shadowy blond stood behind her as she struggled.

  Zane’s mouth fell open beside me, his overgrown beard hiding most of his face. “What the fuck?”

  “Shut up!” I commanded.

  As I struggled to make out what Phoebe was saying, a figure in ugly brown boots slowly walked toward the camera. His gray hair was disheveled, but once he smiled, his eyes crinkled with satisfaction. I knew those eyes.

  “Hello, son. Or should I say, welcome to the family, boy.”

  “I’m not your boy, motherfucker,” I mumbled under my breath while glaring at the screen.

  “Glad you could make it to our little party. I enjoyed our chat the other week. Hate you didn’t listen to my warning.” He glanced back at Phoebe. “Like I said, you gotta keep your eye on those princesses.”

  Two different sets of arms held me back as I lunged forward. “Where is she?”

  He smiled and winked into the camera. “Now pay close attention, boy. You’re not gonna wanna miss this.”

  Ice ran through my veins as he sauntered behind Phoebe and pulled out a yellow scarf from his pocket. A muffled cry beside me turned into hyperventilating gasps as he tightened it in both hands. Without turning, I knew it was Chloe. She knew what it meant.

  “No!” I yelled as two more hands grabbed me.

  “Remember this, son?” He looked down at the scarf in his hands. “Should’ve listened to the little woman.” Phoebe screamed as he wrapped it around her neck and pulled.

  I could count on three fingers the number of times I’d cried in my life. But as Phoebe struggled against him, tears rolled in succession down my face.

  I begged into the screen. “Fight, baby. God, please fight.”

  As her body finally went limp, her eyes glazed and froze in a permanent stare on the ceiling. I frantically scanned her chest for breathing.

  She never moved again.

  Daniel Dalton licked his lips and faced the camera. He sneered as my life ended before my eyes. “One down, one to go.”

  A primal howl broke free from my chest, and I lunged toward the computer screen, screaming in his face. “I’ll see you in hell!”

  Faith and Chloe screamed as every male hand grabbed me and wrestled me to the floor. I finally collapsed, succumbing to the reality that I’d witnessed my wife die in front of my eyes.

  ***

  Everything seemed like a hazy blur the next morning. After I’d calmed enough for seven men to get off me, I showered and changed clothes. Somehow, even though I knew it wasn’t possible, it felt like Daniel Dalton saw me through the screen. I wanted every trace of anything he could recognize washed away.

  Irrational, but nothing about how I felt was rational.

  My wife is dead.

  My life was gone. I couldn’t feel her. Phoebe’s light had a strange aura. A brightness that shined through the bleakest of situations. It was how I always knew I’d find my way home, even during my worst fuck-ups. She radiated light whether she wanted to or not.

  The room felt dark. I felt nothing but darkness. The light flickered out.

  As sadistic as it sounded, in the solace of our bedroom, I queued the video on her face, before that bastard got his hands on her. She looked scared, but underneath it all, my Phoebe fought strong. She held on as long as she could. I ran my finger down the length of her face until the screen blurred with print marks. The sun came up before the final words of the video hit me.

  “One down, one to go.”

  Iris was still alive.

  I flew down the stairs, taking three at a time, and entered another room full of people. The number had doubled since last night. Faces I’d never seen before milled around my house.

  “What the hell’s going on here?”

  Hough glanced up from his computer. “Bale, good, you’re up.”

  “Of course I’m up. My wife is dead. You think I slept?”

  “I know, man. I’m sorry.” The whites of his eyes rimmed with red streaks. “Hell, I keep seeing it in my head every time I close my eyes.” He lifted his chin and held my stare. “I cared about her too. We were friends.”

  “Listen,” I said, pulling him to a corner. “Something Dalton said made sense to me this morning. At the end, he said, ‘One down, one to go.’ If one down meant Phoebe, then…”

  “One to go means Iris is still alive,” he finished, his eyes widening.

  “Exactly.” I nodded. “So, what we have to do is come up with a plan to—”

  “Julian? Can I talk to you for minute? In private?” I shifted my eyes to my right to see Chloe, her familiar dark hair piled high on her head. I wasn’t in the mood to babysit her. If I let my mind deviate from Iris, the reality of life without Phoebe would consume me, and I’d break.

  Iris needed me. I couldn’t break.

  “Can it wait?” I asked, anxious to get rid of her.

  She shook her head. “No. Please, Julian. I-I need to make arrangements, and as her husband, I need your consent.”

  Is she insane?

  I was in a race to find my daughter, and she wanted to talk caskets and eulogies for the wife I couldn’t stop to mourn?

  “Chloe…” I pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration.

  “Please,” she begged. “Two minutes. I promise. For Phoebe?”

  I blew out a long breath. “Fine. Two minutes.” Jaxon excused himself back to his computer, and I turned to face her. “Two minutes. Talk.”

  Immediately, her expression changed from the destroyed older sister to a hardened and determined woman. “I’ll talk fast, so listen carefully,” she whispered. “Predator Confidential just got a call on their tip line. They have a location on my father.”

  “What?”

  “Shhh!” She held up her hand, nodding toward the officers and agents. “They don’t know yet.”

  I lowered my eyelids. “And you do?”

  She lifted her chin, an act of defiance Phoebe had perfected. “Let’s just say over the years, the Predator people and I became friendly. Especially the tip line operators. I may’ve called in a favor last night.”

  “Jesus, is everyone around here owed favors?” I lifted an eyebrow, and Chloe shrugged. “What’s the plan?”

  “That’s why I’m telling you,” she answered, poking my chest. “You took my sister away from me and now she’s gone. All I have left is my niece. My whole family is dead, Julian.” She pointed toward the agents. “They want him arrested. I don’t think it’s pres
umptive of me to say neither of us want that.”

  “I want him dead.”

  “So do I.” She tilted her head toward Hough. “Once they leave, so do we.”

  I laughed. “You’re not going with me.”

  “The hell I’m not! Look, Julian, this bastard terrorized us our entire lives. If you think you’re leaving me behind, I’ll rat you out in a heartbeat.”

  “Fine,” I muttered. “Get the location.” I glanced at Zane as he sat beside Faith on the couch. “I’ll get ammo.”

  ***

  At eleven fifteen that night, Chloe and I met in the living room. As I took the last two steps, I stopped and stared at Faith as she sat on the couch, her hands folded in her lap.

  “I thought you left.”

  “I’m coming too,” she said, her voice hoarse from crying.

  “Mother of fuck! Chloe? What the hell? You told her?”

  Chloe rounded the corner, dressed completely head to toe in black. “Yes, I told her. We need someone with us who might throw my father off balance.” She pointed to Faith. “He hasn’t laid eyes on her since she interrupted his attack four years ago. You don’t think a ghost from the past won’t knock him off his game a little?”

  She had a point. “What if she gets hurt?”

  “I won’t get hurt.” Faith’s head lifted. Instead of the tortured victim I’d seen in the past few weeks, a coldness frosted her eyes. “We’re getting Iris, we’re finding Phoebe, and we’re getting the fuck out. In that order.” I stepped back at the ferocity in her voice. “Besides, Armando has a complete gun collection. Where the hell did you think we’d get all the ammo?”

  She’d barely gotten the words out when Zane stepped out of the shadows from the kitchen, a Glock semiautomatic in each hand. He twirled them on his fingers then aimed them both upward. “Anyone need a fucker to die tonight?”

  “Where’d you get those?” I asked.

  Zane scratched his beard with the tip of a gun. “Don’t ask questions you aren’t prepared to hear the answers to, Jag.” He walked over to Faith and she stood to meet him. “I think Jag’s right. You should stay here.”