by James, Gemma
“I’ve been so fucking worried! Do you have any idea how much trouble—?”
“I need you.”
Three simple words, strung together with haunting sorrow and desperation. With a pathetic twinge of weakness.
His breath hitched over the line. “Baby, what’s wrong?”
“I can’t do this.” A sob burst from my throat. “I thought I could face him. I thought I needed to.”
“What did that fucker do to you?” he practically shouted the question.
“Nothing. He’s not here. I used my key to get in.” Darting my gaze around the front entrance, I took in the family photos on the wall—a warped illusion of joy and togetherness from when I was younger. From when my mom’s jasmine scent and her laughter filled the space between these walls. Now, the emptiness of the estate, and the coldness despite the ninety degree weather, hit me where it hurt the most. This house wasn’t a home.
“It’s just me. I’m so alone.”
“You’re not alone. I’m here.” But his voice was tight with fear, and I knew we were both thinking the same thing—how reckless I’d been by coming here. My dad was a dangerous man, and if he didn’t pose a big enough threat, Zach did.
No one knew where he’d gone. He could pop up at any moment, and here I was sitting alone and unprotected and bawling like a baby in the place where we’d grown up together. For all I knew, he could be lurking in the shadows.
I gulped at the thought.
“Rafe, I’m scared.”
“I want you to get the hell out of there as fast as you can. Do you understand me?” He was afraid for me—I heard it in the shakiness of his voice. And I’d left him helpless to help me.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“Don’t be sorry. Just get your goddamn ass out of that house!” His voice cracked. “Please, baby. For once in your life, do what I tell you to do.”
“Okay.” I rose on trembling legs and reached for the knob, hand shaking as I pushed the door open.
A tall silhouette ate up the sunlight filtering onto the porch. My knuckles went white around my cell.
“Alexandra?”
Raising my eyes, I let the phone drop to my side as I came face-to-face with the monster who raised me.
15. MY OLD FRIEND FEAR
Rafe
Three beeps. Three innocuous tones. Three insignificant sounds that indicated a dropped call. They slammed into my chest, knocking the air from my lungs, stealing the strength from my legs. I collapsed into the chair in the living room and hit the callback button, but Alex’s cell went straight to voicemail.
I’d known it would.
Just as I knew she was in trouble, and there wasn’t shit I could do about it, stuck out here in the woods without transportation, because she’d made sure of it.
A shiver went through me as I recalled the last word she’d spoken before those dreaded three beeps.
Dad.
She wasn’t alone in that house after all, and the only thing that gave me hope was that it was her father and not Zach who’d caught her just as I was talking her into leaving.
Fuck. Why couldn’t she have called me two minutes earlier? She might be on her way back if she had.
“What’s going on?” Jax settled next to Angel on the couch across from me, two steaming cups of coffee in his hands. He handed one to Angel, and she blew on it before taking a tentative sip. The girl hadn’t said a word since we’d awoken at dawn and found Alex gone.
The Jeep missing.
Jax’s tires slashed.
Fucking hell, she’d pay for this.
“She was about to get the fuck out of Dodge, but her father showed up. Now her phone is going straight to voicemail.”
“You think he’d hurt her?”
“He’s never been known for protecting her.” The more I thought of the hell that man put her through over the years, the faster rage rushed through my veins. I’d lost count of the times I’d held her in my arms as she sobbed over her mother’s death, and her father’s possible hand in it.
I’d listened as she told me how that bastard had treated her in the hospital after Zach kidnapped her. Remembering made me thirst for retribution on her behalf. What kind of father turned a blind eye to the kind of sexual abuse Zach had unleashed on her for years? The man hadn’t just ignored it, which was bad enough, but he’d covered Zach’s tracks.
For a fucking decade.
Abbott De Luca was a slimeball, the type of man who’d had an innocent man thrown in jail to cover it up. The kind of guy who had fucked with his daughter’s head to keep her quiet.
The kind of man who would kill to protect his rapist son.
I jumped to my feet and began pacing, both hands tugging at the thick strands on top of my head. “I can’t just sit here.”
“She didn’t leave us with any other choice, man. She knew exactly what she was doing when she took off.” A frown mired his expression. “I can’t believe I didn’t hear her leave.”
“You and me both. After the way she reacted to the news, I should have known better.”
I should have known how desperate she was to confront her father, no matter how convincingly she’d promised not to bolt. I fucking knew her, damn it. Self-destruction filtered through her blood, and it would destroy us both if I didn’t do something about it.
“Why didn’t you keep her chained up?”
“I thought I’d given her enough time to rethink shit. I went too fucking soft on her.” Brushing my fingers across my belt buckle, I narrowed my eyes. “Trust me, it won’t happen again.”
She would come back to me, safe but appropriately ashamed for her actions. She fucking had to because I wouldn’t accept the alternative. And as soon as she came through that door, I’d have her sprawled out, ass up, awaiting atonement.
She wouldn’t dare fight me on this.
I tried her cell for the fifth time and got the dreaded voice recording. It took everything in my arsenal of self-control not to launch the phone across the room.
Anger was a given. She couldn’t pull these types of stunts without summoning the beast inside me, and holy hell, was he looking forward to getting his hands on her. But the terror winding around my throat…I didn’t know what to do with it. Probably because there was nothing I could do, other than keep trying her number.
I wiped the sweat from my brow and paced another round in the living room. “I fucking hate this. How could she do this to me?”
What a ridiculously rhetorical question. It bounced around my mind in accusing glory. Had she felt this lost and helpless when Jax told her I was dead? I’d assured her over the phone that she wasn’t alone. That I was here.
But that hadn’t always been the case.
I’d left her alone for six months. While I attempted to get my head screwed on straight, she’d dealt with her grief on her own. No family, no friends.
Only Jax’s occasional visits to check up on her.
I hated myself for that more than she knew.
“Sit down, man. You’re driving me nuts. If you think she’s in serious trouble, call the cops. At the very least, she can use the interruption to get the fuck outta there.”
I didn’t like that option, but short of finding a way to teleport my way to her, bringing the authorities into it was my only choice, regardless of the complications that might arise from calling the cops. But this was Alex, and the decision was a no-brainer.
With a deep sigh, I dialed 9-1-1 and hoped like hell their intervention wasn’t needed.
16. CORNERED
Alex
I went from frozen scared in the doorway, my gaze locked with my dad’s, to somehow ending up in the kitchen, seated at the breakfast nook across from him with a cup of tea between my unsteady hands. I stared into the liquid—a light brown color from a splash of creamer. It was the way my mom had liked her tea.
“It’s good to see you,” Dad said. “I’ve been worried about you.”
He looked differ
ent. Harder around the edges. The additional lines on his face made him seem older. But the sharpness of his hazel eyes hadn’t diminished. He could talk nice and make fucking tea all day long, but it wouldn’t change who he was—the man who’d claimed me as his daughter but hadn’t protected me like a father should. The man who’d put his aspirations for Zach and business above loving me.
The man who killed my mom.
“Alexandra?” He tapped his fingers on the tabletop. “Did you come here to stare at your old man all day?”
“No.” I hardened my jaw, debating on whether I should voice what was on my mind. But I hadn’t caused myself so much trouble to come here and not go through with it. “I came here to ask you a question.”
“Ask away,” he said with a wave of his hand.
Several beats passed, during which I had to swallow three times before I found my courage and my voice. “Did you kill Mom?”
His gaze remained steady on me, giving nothing away. “Why would you ask such a thing?”
“Zach told me you did it. He said it wasn’t a suicide.”
“Zach isn’t mentally sound. You shouldn’t believe anything that comes out of his mouth.” He paused, and his composure slipped back into place. “Have you seen your brother?”
“He’s not my brother.”
“Nonsense. I didn’t raise you like a step-child. Since when did you start allowing the logistics of DNA to get in the way of family?”
I would have asked if he were serious, but I knew he was. The incredulous arch of my brows gave away my indignation. “Since the day Zach started using me as his fuck toy.”
Dad remained silent. I remembered the poker parties he’d hosted when I was a kid. He’d made bank on those nights, and now I could see why. He had the perfect poker face; his expression revealing nothing, his mannerisms kept in check. He held his cards close to his chest.
But those eyes. I studied them, searching for a hint of what he was holding back. Had he seen Zach?
“Even if I had seen him,” I said, “the only place I would have sent him is jail.” Part of me wanted to draw back my caustic words. But it was too late.
I expected him to blow a gasket, voice a harsh bellow as he insisted I drop the charges against his golden child so Zach could return home. After all, Dad’s first instinct had always been to defend Zach. But he wasn’t going to show his hand.
“He wrote me once while I was on the inside,” Dad said.
Smoothing my expression, I lifted the teacup to my lips and took a sip, feigning disinterest as I waited for him to continue.
“He said you were the reason he was still alive.”
“I didn’t do it for him.”
“He said as much.”
“Where was the letter post marked from?” I was pushing my luck with the question, but I didn’t care. Go big, or go home. I intended to do both.
A faint smile curved his lips. He almost looked handsome when he smiled, despite the receding hairline and gray peppered throughout his brown hair. “I won’t give you ammunition to ruin your brother’s life. It’s time to let it go, Alexandra. You’ve obviously moved on with Rafe. No one else needs to get hurt.”
The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. “Is that a threat?”
“Of course not. I’m only stating a fact. This war between you and Zach has hurt you both.”
“Not just us,” I said, eyes burning with heartache. “Rafe lost eight years of his life because of our lie.” I swallowed the lump forming in my throat. “Did you know we were kidnapped last year?”
Dad shook his head.
“They held us underground for…shit, I don’t even know how many days it was. Lucas Perrone was behind it.”
For the first time since I’d seen Dad on the porch, he actually appeared rattled. “I read in the paper that someone torched his estate, busted an underground sex ring wide open.”
He didn’t ask the question, but I heard it in his tone—the careful way he spoke, implying that a puzzle piece had fallen into place, allowing him to read between the lines. Maybe he even realized that Lucas Perrone had been the reason for his arrest.
“Someone did a real number on Perrone.”
“Rafe will do anything to protect me.” I let that heavy statement sink in. Underneath it lay a threat.
“Seems he and I want the same things, Alexandra. I want you to be safe and happy.”
“I want to know the truth.”
“And what truth would that be?”
“Did you kill my mom?” I enunciated each word.
“Will my answer matter?” He stood, taking his cup with him, and strolled to the sink to rinse it out. “If I tell you I didn’t do it, you won’t believe me. If I tell you I did, it’ll just break your heart.” His broad shoulders rose and fell for a full minute as silence descended over the kitchen. Then he turned and faced me. “Either way, it’ll change nothing.”
“It’ll change everything.” Rising to my feet, I crossed my arms. “If you’re behind her death, I won’t stop until they toss your ass back in jail and throw away the key this time.”
His mouth turned up in a humoring smile, and I wanted to smack that look off his face. “Alexandra, you’re not in a position to threaten me. Or have you forgotten that I can bury Rafe? Don’t mistake my time in prison as a sign of weakness.”
“You, weak?” I grabbed my purse from the table and shouldered the strap. “I wouldn’t think of it.” Tamping down the jittery fear clogging my throat, I closed the distance between us. “Rafe thinks I’m strong. Maybe he’s right. Maybe that’s the one thing you taught me.”
I left him standing in the kitchen and exited the house, the door slamming shut behind me as I hurried toward the Jeep. Anxious to put as many miles between me and my past, I backed onto the street then stomped on the gas. A block down the road, I passed a police cruiser. The officer slowed, and at first I thought he was going to turn around and come after me. For all I knew, Rafe had reported the Jeep stolen. But the cruiser turned into my dad’s driveway instead.
God, that was a close call, and undoubtedly Rafe’s doing. He was desperate if he’d resorted to calling the authorities.
I made it five miles down I-84 before the shakes set in. Pulling onto the shoulder, I switched off the radio and did my breathing exercises for several minutes. The same urgency that had sent me running from the cabin now gripped my soul, demanding I return to it.
To Rafe.
Struggling under the weight of shame for my actions, I sent him a text that I was on my way, then I hit the road and didn’t look back. If not for the GPS, I wouldn’t have been able to find the cabin. Until I’d actually driven the back roads, navigating the hairpin curves, I hadn’t realized how remote the safe house was.
I guess that’s why they called it a safe house, though.
Instead of making me feel isolated and afraid, it made me feel protected. Even knowing Rafe would punish the shit out of me when I returned didn’t upset me as much as the whole confrontation with my dad had.
If he were innocent, he would have denied killing her.
The tears started about two miles away from the cabin, and I wiped them from my cheeks in anger. I couldn’t afford to fall apart right now. I had to find a way to get through whatever Rafe was going to do to me.
I pulled in front of the cabin, and he came barreling down the stairs, his face a mask of worry and rage. The two emotions were a frightening mixture on his hardened features. Wordlessly, he dragged me from the Jeep and hauled me inside, and I fell to my knees before he had a chance to demand I do so. My entire body was trembling—shoulders, arms, fingers. Thighs, knees, feet. The utter storm of wrath spreading over his face scared me more than anything.
The severe line of his mouth, jaw set in determination. I’d known there would be consequences for what I’d done, but I dreaded his imminent punishment more than I thought I would.
He stared me down for the longest seconds of my life, and the silence be
tween us roared in my ears. Even Jax and Angel didn’t make a sound. From the corner of my eye, I noticed her hunched posture. She knew as well as I did that I was in deep shit.
“I’m too fucking angry right now to punish you. Go to our room and pick a corner. I want you on your knees with your face in it.”
I sprang to my feet and headed for the hall. Fuck, he was more pissed than the day I’d run away from his boat, and that had involved my recklessness with a firearm.
This was worse.
I’d not only gone against his decision, but I’d gone to my dad on my own. To a man who might have murdered my mom just to shut her up. Confronting my dad had been risky, no doubt about it, but I’d really put the nails in my coffin by going without the protection Rafe insisted on. No, without the protection he demanded. Or else.
This was the or else.
I chose the corner to the right of the window I’d broken my first night back. Rafe had boarded up the jagged hole with a thick piece of cardboard. I wondered if he could board up the jagged holes in my heart so easily. I was dubious as I approached my chosen corner, shedding my clothes as I went, because getting naked could only help my case. I dropped to my knees, hands clasped at my back, forehead in the tight space where the walls connected.
And I waited.
17. BAD PAIN
Rafe
I was too aware of the weight of my belt around my waist; thick, wide leather that would leave welts if I swung hard enough.
Fuck, I was tempted to.
But that was the anger talking because I rarely drew blood. Not purposefully. Certainly not born of the type of rage invading my system now. Alex needed punishment—a harsh lesson to reshape her behavior. She didn’t need my sick tendencies driving the act.
Fucking her would be reward enough for me. Hearing her beg to come would be enough. The ginger would be enough.
I had a large root with her name on it, just waiting for me to decide how big a piece she deserved before I carved the perfect shape to lodge into her ass. The idea of beating her ass first, then leaving her bent over the bed to watch me carve the ginger made me harder than fuck. The pain from the whipping would drive her insane as she waited for the burn she despised.