“Really? Because where I’m standing, you ain’t backing me up, bro.”
“What? Were you expecting me to go charging over to that bastard’s over-the-top, high-tech fucking mansion and demand Izzy back? Huh? Is that what you really want? Because that would be like sending me to the motherfucking lions. They are expecting us. Something. They will be well-prepared and well-armed. Rushing in there will only lead to the kind of devastation you encountered last time. You know, when all our fucking men and money were lost.”
“Well let’s go together. You, me, and as many men as we can hire. I need her back. There’s no ifs, ands, or buts when it comes to Isabelle. God only knows what that fucking freak has done to her already.”
“I understand, Brax. I mean I get it. Time is of the essence. But time is also our enemy.”
I snarl at him with disgust. “Stop with all the bullshit. I tell you what. I’m outta here. You call me when you’re ready to take this shit seriously.” Turning away from him, I block out the words he yells at me as I leave. I grab my jacket hung by the door, patting the pockets as I check for my keys. Reaching in, I retrieve them as I open the door, storming out toward my bike. My hands shake uncontrollably and I’m not sure if it’s the pain I feel throughout my body, or the anger. Either way, I have to pull myself together and work out a plan. One that doesn’t include Carter.
Jumping on the bike, I start the engine, and pull away hastily, revving the engine noisily. Somehow the noise it makes resembles the way I feel. I want to yell. I want to scream. I want her back and I expected his help. My partner. Someone who has been more than just a friend for years. But no. All he can think of is making the next deal. Making more money. Well, there’s no price on the love I have for Izzy. That fucker is priceless and I will walk through hell if it means I get to spend the rest of my life with her.
I pull into the driveway of my home; dread sits heavily in the pit of my stomach. This is where I last saw her. This is where the fucker shot me. I shudder as I jump down from my bike, making my way to the front door. I need more security. I need to be smart. What if they return? I need to be ready for them.
Reaching upward, I push my key into the lock. My eyes scan the floor for any evidence of what took place here. But I can’t see anything. No traces of blood, nothing out of place. I turn and lock the door, dropping the bolt, just to be safe. I place my hand over the wound on my stomach; the pain is now at its worst. Shuffling over into the kitchen, I notice that everything seems so clean and tidy. Someone has been here. My phone is on the countertop, a small piece of paper wedged beneath it. I lift my cell, pressing the button, lighting the home screen. Missed calls and text messages flash up on the screen, and I immediately check through the names, hoping to see her name. My shoulders slump and I let out a huge sigh when her name doesn’t appear in the list. Slamming the phone down against the counter, I reach for the small piece of lined paper. Opening it, my eyes narrow on the words scribbled onto the paper. I read the letter, then crumple it up and throw it in the trash can. Fucking Tara. Telling me she’s cleaned up the mess. Shit, she must still have a key. Grabbing the phone, I start looking at local security companies, while searching for some damn painkillers. Rifling through cupboard after cupboard, I finally locate some Tylenol. I pop open the bottle, allowing the pills to drop into the palm of my hand. I open my mouth, throw back my head and allow the pills to drop in, before downing them with a gulp of water. I don’t know how many pills were there, I’m just hoping that it takes the fucking edge off. I have shit to do. Important fucking shit, and right now I can’t think of a damn thing, other than the stomach-splitting pain. I stagger back into the living room, dropping down onto the couch. I can’t help but grimace as the pain increases with every damn movement of my body. I feel so damaged, so damn weak, and that feeling alone is fucking killing me. I can’t be weak. Isabelle needs me to be strong. I fist the side of the couch, my arm resting over my eyes as I try to force back the dwelling frustration just waiting to burst through to the surface. I feel like an explosion waiting to happen. My heart is broken and my mind is so fucked up with hate and frustration that I’m struggling to hold it together. I have to take my mind off things. I have to make plans. I roll over on my side, my body falling from the couch as I land on all fours. Unconventional I know, but so much easier for my fragile body right now. I use my hand to push me up from all fours and slowly make my way to the counter, grabbing my phone.
Calling everyone I need, I set up a plan. I have someone coming to change the locks and improve the security. No fucker will ever make it to my door again once I have it all in place. Secondly, I’ve arranged a meeting. One that could change my life forever, but one that needs to happen if I ever stand a chance of finding Isabelle and bringing her home. I rest my head back, the meds slowly starting to take effect. I’m tired, and so is my body. Placing my head back against the sofa, my eyes close almost instantly. All I can think of is her. Isabelle. Me and her together, under the tree was the single best moment of my life. How we lay there, without a thought or care in the world. Just us. Together, the way I’d dreamt for so fucking long. I swipe my hand across my chin as I remember how her fine white-blonde hair tickled my chin as it stuck to the dark stubble that lines it.
An unexpected, loud knock snaps me from my daydream. I shoot upright, immediately regretting it, clutching my hand to try to stem the shooting pain in my stomach. “Fuck,” I growl, using my free hand to elevate me from my seated position. I hobble over to the door, expecting to see the security company, only to find it isn’t them.
I should have known she would come around. Dropping the lock, I open the door, my hand resting just beside the frame.
“Lynette, what the fuck do you want?”
“Where is my daughter?” she roars, her voice loud but shaking. Her eyes are narrowed on me and her lips are pressed together. “Well?” she asks, her arms flailing into the air.
“You actually care now, do ya?” I snap back, pressing my hand against the door in an attempt to close it.
“Oh no, you don’t.” She stomps her foot out in front of her, blocking the door from closing. “I want answers, and I want them now,” she demands. “She should’ve stayed away from you. I tried telling her, I tried to get her to listen, but she wouldn’t, would she? Oh no. All she remembers is the handsome young boy she was infatuated with. She doesn’t know the real you, does she, Brax? She was so blind to it. The crime, the murders, she was just so unaware. You took advantage of that. You got inside her head. If you really loved Isabelle, you would have left her alone, allowed her to find her own happiness. And now what? She’s caught in the middle of your war with some other psycho.”
“That psycho had nothing to do with me. He came back for her.”
“But you were dealing drugs with him?” she asks, tilting her head to the side as she questions me with her narrow eyes. “So you must’ve already known this guy? Huh? You two were friends?”
“No, that’s not how this shit works, Lynette. I’d never met the guy before I turned up to do business. This was all set up by Carter,” I reply, annoyance lacing my tone. I’m quickly getting fed up with having to answer to the world’s shittiest mother—besides my own of course.
“Interesting,” she replies, tapping her index finger against her chin. “So Carter must be involved somehow.”
“If he was, he would be dead. It’s that simple. He understands how important finding Isabelle has been to me.” I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. “Listen, Lynette. I really don’t have time for your bullshit right now. I have business to take care of. Your daughter needs me.”
“How do we know she’s even alive?” She raises her voice again. “You let him take her. You did nothing to stop the bastards. Have you any idea what she must be going through…” Her words trail off as she clamps her hand across her mouth, stifling a cry. I watch as tears swell in old-looking eyes, and I can’t help but think the emotion she’s displaying is real.
<
br /> “I didn’t stop them, no. You’re right about that. But I took a bullet trying.” I lift up my shirt, revealing the huge dressing that covers my wound. “I would have died trying to protect her.”
I watch as she closes her eyes slowly, her head dipping in agreement. “I can’t deny how much you love my daughter, but what I also can’t deny is that you’re no good for her. Trouble follows you, Brax. She deserves better than this, better than us.”
Cocking my head to the side, I’m amazed by the words that fell from her mouth. “I think that’s the most truthful thing you’ve ever said.”
“I don’t care what you think about me, about how I raised my daughter. All I care about is her having her freedom, whether I’m a part of that freedom or not.” She lets out a deep breath, her chest heaving as she does. She drops her head, her eyes focusing on the ground. “Did anyone think to call the police? They have the power to bring her home.”
“And say what?”
“The truth, Brax. That she’s being held against her will, by this… uh… by this madman.”
“We can’t get the police involved. It’s too dangerous.”
“Dangerous for who?” she asks, her eyes burning into me. “Dangerous for you and Carter; you selfish son of a bitch.”
“No,” I say, taking a step closer to her. “Dangerous for Izzy. Alvrez is dangerous and clever. He’ll cover his tracks. Hell, he didn’t become the criminal he is because he’s careless. It’s because he will already have a plan. Shit, you don’t understand how this works.” I push my hand through my rough hair that hasn’t been washed for days. “I promise you, here and now, I will do every-fucking-thing it takes to make sure Isabelle comes home and is safe. They think I’m dead. They won’t expect the shit I have planned for those motherfuckers.”
“I don’t care about your revenge plans, Brax. Just bring her home.”
Nodding my head, I watch as she turns and walks away from me. I pause, my eyes following her as she walks down the drive and away from my house. If I say I’m surprised, it would be a huge understatement. She was the last person I expected to see. I close the door, my mind tumbling with a thousand ideas on how the hell I can save Izzy. I walk up the staircase, my hand grabbing the railing as I pull myself up. I stop at the top, my breathing all over the fucking place, and my own body giving out on me pisses me off. I need to be stronger than I’ve ever been, but I’m weak. The weakest I’ve ever felt. I continue into the bedroom, dropping to my knees and pulling out the metal case from under my bed. I flip the clips, opening the lid to grab my handgun. Loading it with bullets, I push it into the band of my jeans. Closing the lid. I slip the case back underneath the bed, feeling a little more at ease now that I’m armed. Another knock on the door causes me to rush back to my feet, but my head is spinning and it stops me for a second, hoping the dizziness will clear. Whoever is at the door knocks for a second time. “I’m coming,” I yell out, letting them know someone is home. It has to be the security guys. Slowly, I make my way downstairs and over to the door, stopping to catch my breath. I open the door, only to see Tara standing in front of me.
“Oh Jesus,” I moan with an exaggerated roll of my eyes. “What the fuck do you want? I’m busy.”
“I’ll help you,” she says with a smile. “You gonna let me in?”
“No,” I say as I start to close the door on her.
“Please,” she cries out. “I heard what happened with Carter and I want to help. You need my help.” She sighs loudly, her palm pressed flat against the door.
“I’m expecting someone. I don’t have time for this…”
“Time for what?” she interjects. “I’m genuinely here to help you, even if you are an asshole.”
“Why though? If I’m the asshole you say I am, why are you here?”
“I don’t know,” she says, her arms flying into the air. “Maybe it’s fate, maybe it’s my good nature. All I know is when Carter told me what happened between you two, I knew I had to get over here and see that you were okay.”
“So, you’ve seen what you came to see. Now leave.” I step toward her, placing my hand on her shoulder, pushing lightly to get her to back the fuck up. But she doesn’t move.
“I think this,” she gestures with her hand toward me, “this is proof enough that you’re not okay. Look at you, Brax. You’re as white as a ghost and you look like shit. Let me help you. You rest, I do whatever it is that needs to be done. Let. Me. Help. You.”
I look at her, pausing for a second before stepping back. “You better come in.” I try to force a smile, but it doesn’t work. She laughs and the sound fills my empty home and I can’t deny it’s a good sound. It replaces the voices in my head, the memories that hurt so deep in the pit of my stomach. I struggle over to the couch, dropping down heavily, letting out a huge, pent-up breath. I rest my head back, my arm covering my eyes as I try to get a handle on the pain. “Make sure the door is locked,” I say, my voice low and scratchy as I strain for it to be heard.
“Got it,” she replies in an upbeat tone. I stretch back, positioning myself comfortably on the couch. My eyelids are heavy; a haze takes over my consciousness as I feel myself drifting into sleep.
A cool hand against my warm skin jolts me awake.
“What… who…” My eyes search my surroundings in an attempt to work out what the fuck is happening.
“It’s just me, Brax,” she coos. “The security guys have been here. Everything is done. You’ve been out for hours.” A little chuckle escapes her and my eyes land on her smiling face just in front of mine.
“What?” I croak, pushing myself up, unable to believe that I could sleep through that.
“Yep, all done,” she says, stepping back and sitting on the coffee table. She slowly crosses her legs, resting her clasped hands on her kneecap.
“Shit,” I murmur, swinging my legs off the couch and against the wooden floor. I stand up slowly, expecting more pain than I actually feel. I move my stiffened body over to the door. Sure enough, it has new locks. I side step, looking through the window to see the huge metal fence and gate that is now placed around the perimeter. “He left these,” she interrupts me, holding up a clear bag containing three key fobs. “You need these. It's the only way you can get in and out of the premises.”
Nodding, I take the bag from her hand, making my way over to the screen now positioned by the door. It has a camera and shows clear pictures of who is at the gate.
“There’s one of those upstairs too,” she adds, stubbing her thumb over her shoulder. I nod, pursing my lips together.
“What’s wrong? Are you angry I didn’t wake you?”
“Fuck no! I feel better for the nap. As long as the job is done that’s all that matters.”
“Well I’d say this place is like Fort Knox! To be honest, in your line of work, I’m not sure why you haven’t had this before.”
“Never felt the need,” I say with a lift and sag of my shoulders.
“Oh,” she blurts out as if suddenly remembering something. “Your cell phone. It rang a couple of times.”
“Shit.” I almost growl, racing through into the kitchen, grabbing it from the countertop. I relax a little when I see Jeffries’ name on the screen. I hit the button, instantly returning his call. I slowly walk toward the stairs, trying to give Tara a wide berth. “Jeffries,” I say, when he answers the call.
“Brax,” he replies, “what a pleasant surprise it was to hear from you.”
“Listen, I can’t discuss this here. Let’s meet. Your place, say seven p.m.?”
“Alone?” he asks, his tone low as if he’s trying not to be heard.
“Yes, I’ll be alone.”
“Until later then.” He ends the call and I push my phone into my jeans. I turn, and to my surprise see Tara standing behind me.
“If you’re just here to spy on me, you know where the door is,” I snap, bustling past her as I go downstairs. I stop suddenly, wondering whether she came here because she was tol
d to.
“Wait.” I glare at her. “Did he put you up to this?”
She crosses her arms, looking at me with narrowed eyes. “You think I’m working for my asshole cousin? Believe it or not, I actually agree with you. I don’t understand why he has sat back and done nothing. I don’t get it. He’s calculated, yet impulsive. He doesn’t let shit like this go. The Carter I know would have handled this by now. So, tell me. What’s really going on with you and Jeffries?”
“I need them on my side. I need backup, and some fucker with a reason to stand by my side and fuck shit up with Alvrez.”
She squints at me a little. “Really? Jeffries? You have to be freaking kidding me.” She drops down on the top step, her fingers tapping against her leg. “You have men working for you. Use them. Don’t involve the Savages.”
“I have to. Our men are loyal to Carter. He’s pulled the strings for so long that it would be fucked up to ask them, especially since I walked out on Carter and our partnership. I have to do this alone, but I also need the fucking manpower when it comes to taking Alvrez down. With the thought of getting the drugs they had expected, and the fucking money, I just know they’ll work with me. The Savages are only loyal to their own kind. They owe nothing to Carter.”
“But that guy,” she rushes out, a shudder rippling through her. “You killed him,” she says in a hushed voice, as if she’s scared someone will hear.
“I did. And I don’t regret it for a moment, but no one needs to know about that. If they were going to find out, or work out what happened that night, then they would have done it by now.”
“I just don’t want them to turn on you. Are you sure you can really trust them?”
“I trust no fucker. That’s how you get yourself killed. But I have to do something, Tara. I have to save her, or at least fucking try.”
She allows her eyes to flutter shut with a small nod of her head. “I get it, Brax. You have to fight for the one you love.”
The scars of us Page 3