I shook my head and folded my free arm across my chest to keep from picking up the knife I’d just set down. To feel its comfort again.
“I’m dealing and Conor keeps calling,” he continued. “Every time I answer, he hangs up. He’s supposed to be on the estate. Go fucking find him.”
“Done.”
“Kieran, if my brother’s dead . . .”
“He’s not.” He couldn’t be.
“I swear to God, man.”
“I’ll find him,” I promised before ending the call.
I hurried into some clothes and my boots, and armed myself with a handful of blades closest to me before I rushed down the halls of the Holloway mansion without making a sound.
When I didn’t find him in his room in the mansion, I slipped out to head to Soldier’s Row on the other side of the property where most members lived.
But I didn’t make it there.
I didn’t make it far at all.
Because where Lily and I had lived for four years with Beck was lit up like a beacon. The guesthouse. And it’d been a ghost town since she left, as if everyone on this estate wanted to forget the girl who’d lived there. Abandoned us.
I started in that direction, but stopped halfway when I saw him on the porch.
Conor. As he had for four years. Standing guard.
Déjà vu flooded me. For a moment, I wondered if I would walk through the front door to find Lily asleep in our bed.
When I continued, my steps were unsure for the first time in my life. It felt like I was walking into the biggest trap and I couldn’t make myself stop.
Because I needed my life to be what it had been.
I needed Lily to be back. I needed her to be mine. I needed my world to feel right again. I need to fulfill my purpose.
But even as those thoughts entered my mind, they felt wrong.
My whole life had felt wrong for as long as I could remember because it hadn’t been mine.
Then I’d had right for a little while. But that ended up being a lie.
When I got close enough to Conor, he shook his head. It was subtle, but it was enough to make me come to a stop.
After a glance at his watch, he gave me a pointed look then started walking off the porch.
When he rounded the corner of the house, I realized he was checking the perimeter, and I hurried to meet him at the side.
Not making a sound.
Sticking to the shadows.
“Mickey put eyes and ears on the front porch,” he whispered, just loud enough for me to hear. “And I think he’s watching my phone.”
“Wordless texts aren’t suspicious?” I gave him a dry look, then hurried on, “Why are you here?”
“Mickey brought a girl here about an hour ago. Young. Probably my age.” Conor dipped his head and dropped his voice even lower. “She was dragged in here, yelling the whole time. He said he owned her. I’m supposed to guard her. It’s like that meeting you made me check out last year. The human trafficking. I don’t think he actually stopped.”
“Shit.”
“There was a guy with him. He was the one dragging her. I’ve never seen him before. He’s not Holloway. Do you think he could be the ghost?”
I stopped walking and looked from Conor to the house.
He couldn’t, because the ghost was Jessica. I jogged to catch up with him. “Are they still in there?”
“The girl is, yeah. Mickey and the guy left.”
I blew out a calming breath and clapped Conor’s back. “Keep doing what you’re doing. Stop texting me blank texts. I’ll call Beck and fill him in. Did you get a name on the guy?”
Conor was already shaking his head. “No, and he didn’t say a word. But Mickey has some fucked-up plans. He wants to have kids with the girl to keep O’Sullivan blood in Holloway.”
I ground my jaw, trying to keep my shaking at bay. “I need to get the other guy’s name to see what I can find out about him.”
“Do it fast, man. I don’t want to die.” He tried to make his tone teasing, but I could hear the underlying fear there.
We rounded the last corner of the house, so I dropped back to stay hidden in the shadows and nodded toward the house. “I’m going to talk to the girl to see if she knows who he is.”
Conor looked over his shoulder to whisper, “Her name’s Jessica.”
Shock and dread hit me so fast I nearly fell to my knees.
It had to be a coincidence.
Had to.
I forced myself to turn and go to the back of the house, but each step felt weighted. Impossible.
When I was finally slipping into my old bathroom, I knew it wasn’t a coincidence.
Because with each heavy step closer to the bedroom, I could feel her. Her wild energy that felt close to exploding.
I found her on my old bed, staring at the ceiling.
And somehow, with my steps that seemed so loud to my own ears, she didn’t notice me until I asked, “Make what go away?”
Her soft gasp filled the space between us and her body flinched, but she didn’t look at me.
I wanted to lie beside her. I wanted to wrap her in my arms and pull her close. But I didn’t know how to be in a room with her without hating her. I’d been certain I’d spent my days and nights with the real Jessica, but now I didn’t know how to convince myself that any of it was real.
For what seemed like a lifetime, she didn’t answer. She just stayed still, staring.
“Everything.”
Everything was a tall order . . . even for me. “Let’s start with why you’re here.”
“Don’t you know?” she asked, bitterness filling her voice. “How would you know where I was if you didn’t know the why?”
“I can guess,” I said softly. “And I need it to be wrong.”
“He wants me for . . . his uses,” she murmured after nearly a minute.
I wasn’t wrong.
It took everything to stay still when I wanted to go hunt Mickey down for taking what was supposed to be mine. But if the ghost was real, then the order to kill Conor was too.
“Mickey?” I asked, his name coming out as a growl when I was struggling so hard to stay calm.
“Who else?”
“Conor said there was another man. I need to know who that is.”
“His errand boy. His driver.” She lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know; don’t you all know each other?”
“He doesn’t have a driver, Jessica. I need to know everything about him because he’s not Holloway, and he’s somehow slipped past me.”
She gave me a look like she wanted to apologize, but nothing left her lips. And just as quickly, the look faded. “I know nothing. He’s never spoken a word to me. He stalks me for Mickey. Anywhere I am, he’s there in a black SUV. I told my brother and he ran the plates. Came back to some woman.” Her eyes searched mine when my breathing slowed. “So angry, Nightshade.”
I tried to force my breathing to quicken, but everything went so dark when I realized two truths.
Mickey had been stalking her. Mickey thought he owned her.
“How long has Mickey been following you?”
“You and your timelines.”
“How long, Jessica?”
Her gaze drifted back to the ceiling. “He doesn’t. The driver does everything for him.”
I bit back a groan. I didn’t have time for this. “How long has the driver been following you?”
“I’m not sure. A few weeks before Mickey hired me. So, a few weeks before I met you.”
“About the time Mickey’s been out of jail. And he was here while Mickey was hiding,” I mumbled to myself.
“Yes,” she said slowly, drawing the word out as her eyes drifted to me.
“Does he?”
She lifted a brow, but it looked like that slight movement drained her.
“Does he own you?”
“I belong to no man.”
I was a fool for thinking you would ever belong to me.
<
br /> I nodded and started to step into the bathroom but rocked back and turned to look at her when something she once told me flashed through my mind.
I struggled with every word she’d uttered to me. Wondering if they were all lies when they’d felt real. But I remembered her anger that night. Her fierceness. Her blatant disgust at me because I worked for Mickey.
“You told me once that you wouldn’t do anything for Mickey if your life depended on it.”
Her lip curled in disdain. “I wouldn’t.”
That look and those two words told me more than anything else had since she first left.
Her mom.
Jessica would do anything for her.
Including work with the devil himself.
She had the chance to tell Mickey about Beck and me. To tell him that we were the ones who betrayed him. To prove her worth. And she hadn’t.
“I hate that I miss you when you’re not around. I hate that I feel so weak without you . . . and so vulnerable with you.”
Idiot. I was a fucking idiot.
For not realizing what was happening sooner.
For thinking I didn’t know Jessica.
For doubting that she was mine.
With a few steps, I was on the bed and my mouth was on hers.
The tips of her fingers traced my neck as she let me devour her mouth for those few seconds. When I pulled away, my name slipped from her on a sigh. “Nightshade.”
“I’ll be back for you.” I nipped at her full bottom lip and grinned when she tried to follow me. “Good night, Chaos.”
I spent the entire night and next morning searching.
Searching for signs in Jessica’s empty trailer.
Going through Mickey’s servers and phone for what felt like the hundredth time . . . only to find nothing.
I even scanned the cameras for the office building’s parking garage during the last few weeks and hadn’t found a black SUV there around the same time as Mickey.
Something nagged at me in the back of my mind . . . saying Jessica was lying.
But despite the bullshit with Mickey, I knew her.
I knew when she was real. And the girl in my old bed in the guesthouse last night had been real.
By the time I made it back to Holloway, it was nearly noon.
There was a pull inside me, leading directly toward the guesthouse. But Mickey’s car had still been parked in front of the main house. I knew I needed to play this carefully. Heading there in broad daylight when he was home and had a hit on Conor wasn’t careful.
And Beck might kill me himself.
I hurried up the stairs and down the halls until I got to Beck’s room, and let myself in without knocking.
He was already awake and pacing.
“Dude, where’ve you been? I’ve been waiting for you since I got home at four.”
“When have you ever waited for me?” I asked, settling against the door so I would be sure to hear anyone coming down the hall.
Beck lifted his arms out to his sides then dropped them. “Uh, since I got the call I did last night.” He laughed agitatedly when I only stared at him. “You need to remember to be human when you’re working. You’re kind of a robotic asshole.”
I huffed, and he let out an exaggerated breath.
“Jesus fuck, I’ve wanted to say that for years.”
“Noted.”
“You literally said, ‘Conor’s fine. Jessica’s being held by Mickey at the guesthouse. Don’t go after him,’ and hung up.” Beck stared at me, wide-eyed. “I mean, fuck, man.”
I resisted the urge to shrug and remind him I’d given him all the details he needed. “Are you done?”
Beck rolled his eyes and plopped on the bed.
“There’s a guy. Conor saw him dragging Jessica in, and she said he’s been stalking her for weeks for Mickey. He’s not Holloway.” When Beck’s eyebrows drew together in surprise and anger, I said, “I looked through everything again. I still can’t find him.”
A pent-up breath rushed from Beck. “Well, fuck. How do we find this goddamn ghost?”
“He’s . . . he’s not the ghost.” I folded my arms over my chest and tried not to show Beck how much it wrecked me to say, “Jessica is.” I worked my jaw and gave a hard nod. “You were right. She was playing me. She was with me for a reason. But if I’m right, she was doing it because Mickey has her mom.”
He opened his mouth then quickly shut it. A few seconds went by before he slowly lifted his hand and said, “I need you to let me talk and get everything out without throwing shit at me.”
My pulse immediately dipped.
“Kieran.”
“Talk,” I bit out.
He let out a sigh, mumbled a few curses, then snatched a pillow to hold it in front of him. Like that would stop one of my knives. “I know Mickey has her mom. I’ve known.”
“How long?” I demanded. My fingers ached to reach for the cool metal to help calm me, but I didn’t move.
“The morning after you told me about Mickey having us all watched. He came and asked me about this girl’s mom. I knew who he was talking about so I tried to deflect because I wanted to protect them.” Beck scrambled for a second with how to continue. “Then I realized he already knew a shit ton about Jess . . . he just wanted to confirm details about her mom.”
“Jesus, Beck.”
“What was I supposed to do?” he asked loudly. “I was afraid if I didn’t say something, he’d know I helped with the Borellos. And he already knew most of what I was telling him. It felt like he was testing me. He took her mom that night.”
That caught my attention. “No. I was in Jessica’s trailer that night—” I hissed a curse and scrubbed at my face. “The window. Jessica kept talking about the window I’d left open when I let myself in, but I’d gone in through the door. They must’ve opened the window earlier so they’d have a way in. Jessica’s mom was still there when I left.”
I looked over at Beck when he didn’t say anything, and found him looking at me with a wounded expression. “It’d already started. The night after you met her, it’d already started between you two?”
“No, Beck. She stole my wallet. I went looking for it.”
His head shifted slowly. “Jess doesn’t steal. I told you that.”
“Trust me. She does.”
“She never has before. I know her.” He raked his hands through his hair and groaned. “I thought I did. She can’t . . . she can’t be the ghost. She wouldn’t kill someone. I knew there had to be someone else.”
The ache and denial in his voice was like he already—
No.
My eyes narrowed. “Someone else . . . You knew it was her?” When he didn’t respond, I clenched my jaw and growled, “You knew it was her and you’ve had me looking for someone else? You brought that Lucas Holt bullshit to me, to what, get me off Jessica’s trail?”
“It makes sense for it to be him,” he argued. “And, yes, to get you off her goddamn trail. When you came back the night after you met her, asking for her address, I knew you were onto her and it scared the shit out of me.”
“If you thought she was the ghost, you should’ve told me from the beginning.”
“I love her,” he yelled, his voice booming. “And it doesn’t make sense for her to be the one to kill someone. Jess would never do that. Sneak in places? Get information? Yeah. Yeah, she’d fucking do that. But there has to be another ghost, so I wanted to focus on the other.”
I clenched my hands and slowly relaxed them. Then did it again. When I spoke, my voice was like ice. “Tell me how you knew it was her.”
“I wasn’t sure at first.” He blew out a slow breath. “You told me you thought Mickey knew it was you that’d betrayed him. Then when Mickey came asking about her mom, he kept referring to Jess as his. Said she was going to be the future of Holloway if she could finish a project for him first.”
My hands curled into fists. “She’s not his.”
A sad sounding l
augh punched from his chest. “Right. Well, next thing I know, Jess is gone. I’ve seen her every single night for a decade, and suddenly she’s gone for days at a time. And then I walked in on the two of you in your room and it was clear as fucking day that it wasn’t a one-time thing. Which means she’d allowed you to find her. And I knew right then if she’d been letting you find her and wasn’t out looking for her mom, she was helping Mickey. Only one thing he needs help with right now.”
“I heard a recording between her and Mickey,” I said and had to clear my throat before I could continue. “She said she’d been searching my room and making me fall in love with her so she could get information from me.”
Even with all Beck had already known and suspected, he looked like he didn’t know how to digest the idea that the girl he loved could do that.
I knew the feeling.
“Jessica wouldn’t do anything for him unless she felt she didn’t have a choice. But he has her mom,” I reminded him. “She would do anything for her.”
He tilted his head. “It’s not just that. Mickey said he’d get her mom help before he took her. Jess is still holding on to the hope that he might.”
I hissed a curse. More made sense with every minute. “We need to talk to her when Mickey leaves for Raleigh,” I said firmly. “We need to know what Mickey had her doing, and we need to find the other guy. Find him, and I have a feeling we end the hit on Conor and save Jessica. Then Mickey’s breaths are numbered.”
When Beck nodded, I pushed from the door and reached for the handle but stopped at my name.
I glanced back at him to find him looking tortured.
“There’s something else.”
A heavy rock settled in my stomach. Jesus Christ. The last couple days had been one clusterfuck after another.
“What?”
“I didn’t know . . . swear to God, I had no idea. But you were right.”
That rock turned to lead. “About what?”
He looked at me warily. “She’s been paying off someone else. And I know who he is.”
I was sitting against the headboard when I heard the front door shut.
That was my first clue that whoever was coming to see me wasn’t the person I wanted to see.
I stopped playing with the ends of my hair as I listened to the heavy footfalls coming down the wooden hall.
Nightshade Page 21