by Marie Wathen
Shifting his gaze to his lap, he answers solemnly, “No sir.”
Pressing his palms flat on his desk, Granddad stands. “Fine, I’m going up to break the news to the ladies.” He walks toward the door and stops, holding the doorknob. “I’ll call the Carrington’s after I console my wife.”
“Morgan,” mom chokes, smudging her fingers through black mascara, streaking down her cheeks. “You’ll return to Walker Corporation and take over where you’re dad…” she can’t finish her sentence and I don’t need her to.
“No, Mother. I’m not going back.”
She stands, watching me with calculating eyes for several seconds before stating, “I’ll do it then.” Shocked by her offer, my eyes widen.
“I’m sure that the business is the least of Granddad’s worries at the moment,” Sam snaps, drawing Haleigh’s glare.
“That’s exactly why I need to help him,” she counters, straightening her posture. “I know every aspect of the company as well as, if not better than Barret.”
“Should that be where all of your energy goes at a time like this?” I ask, worrying about her declining health and wondering if this will only make her sicker.
“I need to focus on something other than my…pain.” Her hoarse voice softens with that last word as she reaches for the door, leaving.
“There is more,” Sam accuses, her eyes shift from the closing door to zone in on Marcus. He glances back, ensuring that the door closes completely before nodding. “Tell us.”
“I left off the part about where Don remarks about hearing a loud sound and feeling a ‘bump’ before acknowledging the fuel dump.”
“What do you believe happened?” I ask.
“Homeland Security is investigating the crash. With their involvement,” he hesitates, glancing between me and Sam. “It means the plane was possibly sabotaged.”
“Impossible,” I hiss, looking between Marcus and Sam for confirmation that someone did not deliberately crash our family jet.
“What the fuck?” Sam groans, rubbing her palm between her eyebrows. “Who and why, is what I want to know, like yesterday!”
“It’s still early in the investigation, but they plan on piecing together the remains of the fuselage to determine if there was an explosive attached.” He shakes his head. “It is more than a hunch, they’re certain that they will find exactly that.”
Stillness floods the room, immediately after Marcus finished speaking. My heart is pounding so loudly that I’m sure they can feel it, not just hear it. Unable to tolerate the quiet, I pace the room, working out all the details internally. My dad is dead.
“I can’t believe this shit,” Sam breaks the silence first. “I’m glad you didn’t say anything in front of Granddad. It will come out eventually, but one blow as bad as both of your children dying is enough.”
“Yeah,” is all Marcus says.
Staring down at her watch, Sam mumbles, “Ah hell, I’ve got to get to the club to pick up…” She cuts off her last words and then places a comforting hand on Marcus’ shoulder as she passes him while offering me a tight grin before leaving.
Marcus asks, “Does Tristan know?” I walk back over to face him, shaking my head.
“When you called last night to tell me about the plane going down, he was already in bed. Since coming off the drugs he’s struggling, barely sleeping and his mood swings are weirding me the hell out.” I shrug. “He’s refusing doctors and I can’t blame him for not wanting to speak with a shrink, but I hope he gets his shit straight soon.” Marcus cusses under his breath. “I decided to let him sleep in and came straight over here. I tried calling him about two hours ago. He didn’t answer so I called the compound. Tac said Breesan is working so everyone is watching her tonight.” I don’t miss the way he averts his eyes when I mention her name, but continue explaining. “Tristan demanded to go, too. Rhys is keeping an eye on him.” He stands as though he’s ready to bolt from the room. “Will she not be coming back to the compound?”
“No,” he replies tersely.
“Fuck, Marcus,” I growl, storming over to him. “Tell me what in the hell is going on.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re hiding shit. Except for going out with Kole tonight before she agreed to work at Toxic, she isn’t speaking to anyone. Did you fuck things up with her?”
“I’m not going to stand here and discuss my relationship with you. Forgiving your betrayal is one thing, but forgetting and becoming best friends again just isn’t something I’m willing to do.”
“It’s an excuse, but I don’t give a shit, and I’m going to fucking use it. You know that I wasn’t myself during that time. No, we weren’t close long before that, but you can’t keep holding it against me.”
“The hell I can’t,” his eyes darken as his normally cool façade leaves the building. “She is more valuable to me than anything or anyone that I’ve ever known. Losing her isn’t something that I’m willing to do. So you’ll forgive me if I think talking about this with you, of all people, is the dumbest fucking idea ever. No matter what the excuse is or how different you are, I’m sick of this topic. Force your concerns on someone else for a change.” He grabs for the doorknob, departing.
“You don’t get it,” I turn away, irritated with him dismissing my request, but also angry with myself for allowing my weakness to seep into those four words. I know that he cares for her and if their feelings are anything compared to what I have for Waverly then I can’t let him throw it away.
He sighs loudly before slamming his fist into the door. “What, Morgan? What the fuck do you want from me?”
I redirect back to the original topic before I confess more to him than I am comfortable with. “Are you using Breesan?”
His expression morphs into confusion. “What?”
“Is there something going on besides protecting her?” Guiltily, he glances away. “Fuck, I knew it. She was just another notch on your belt!”
“I will not discuss Breesan with you,” he roars, his chest heaving and his face reddening. “Now, if you don’t have something off this tired-ass subject to tell me then I’m done,” he replies, staring directly into my eyes, daring me to speak her name again.
“Fine,” I state through clenched teeth frustrated, but keeping my shit together. Hoping to Band-Aid our allegiance, I share, “I have something that I need to tell you. I’m going to trust that you are being honorable.”
He laughs before sarcastically retorting, “Well, thanks a lot.”
“Marcus, I believe that I know who the last abductor is.” His laughter dissolves instantly.
His chest heaves wildly while his nostrils flare. “How could you possibly know him?”
“When the guy in the hospital described him, I had an idea of who he was–”
Before I can explain, he cuts me off shouting, “And you’re just now telling me this, why?”
“For a couple of reasons, really,” I enlighten. He stalks back over, standing directly in front of me.
“Tell me.”
“I wasn’t positive that it was him and wanted to do a little investigating, so you wouldn’t just blow me off with weak proof. And then, even though you and Tac took me with you, begrudgingly I might remind you,” he rumbles frustratingly, “afterwards, you shut me out of the information exchange, so I withheld it.” I shrug. “And maybe that was selfish, but I–”
He cuts me off again, “Jesus, fucking hell, Morgan, if you know who the bastard is just say it, so we can get him in custody.”
“It’s Mattox Andrews,” his eyebrows pinch together. “Tox, from Club Toxic.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” He shouts, his eyes growing wide and his fists clenching and releasing, like he’s considering punching me.
“I met him three years ago in London. He travels a lot, but he calls Southampton home. I tried to interrogate him, covertly, but he didn’t give away anything.”
“Fucking, Christ,”
he barks, thumping his fist against the top of the desk. “Do you realize how pertinent this information is to our case, Morgan? He is Julia’s son.”
“Motherfucker,” I mumble. I didn’t put it together as fast as he did. “You’re sure?”
“It all adds up,” he states, crossing his arms and leaning against the desk. His anger is boiling, but he’s shifting into police-mode. Talking to himself, he’s slightly distracted from being pissed off at me. “Andrews, Vivian Andrews is Breesan’s grandmother. The new information about Julia’s son.” Yeah, now I remember them discussing that in the debriefing, but I was slightly intoxicated at the time. “The shooting…that bastard was on the guest list. I need to call this in to Max. Wait,” he pauses, looking down at his cell that he pulls from his pocket. Still talking to himself, he states, “He knows this shit. He must. That son of a bitch.”
“Marcus,” I interrupt his explosion. “Who is Max?”
“Max?” he repeats angrily, looking at me with distant eyes.
“You said, ‘he knows.’ Are you talking about the guy I saw you with in the gardens at the castle?” He doesn’t respond. “Does that mean this guy Max knows about Tox being the abductor? Who is Max, Marcus?”
“Stay out of it, Morgan,” he growls, pushing off of the desk and retreating toward the door again.
“No, Goddammit.” I follow, slamming the door shut and demanding, “Answer my question. I heard you talking about Breesan. You are working with this guy to get her money, aren’t you?”
Shaking his head and piercing me with a solid look, he claims unhappily, “You’ve got it all wrong.”
“Then straighten it out,” I challenge, “Because what I heard that night makes me think that you’re only using her. And I’m just not going to let that happen.”
Taking a step back, he sighs, “Morgan, I love her, but you have no idea how dangerous this shit is.”
“Are you’re fucking kidding me right now?”
“Dammit,” he groans, pushing me away and locking the door. He motions for me to take a seat. “I should not do this. It could mean me getting canned on my ass.” He thrusts his hand through his hair roughly and then glares at me, “But clearly keeping you in the dark is only going to get someone hurt, especially since you plan on keeping your damn nose stuck right in the middle of all this shit.” Taking the chair next to me, he cuts his eyes at me. “Do you truly care for Breesan?”
“Hell yes!”
His posture drops slightly, possibly pleased with my confession. “Going against everything in my gut, I’m going to trust you.” I nod anxiously, preparing for the worst. “But first, I need your word that when I tell you what’s going on and how everything must play out, that you’ll back off and let the professional detectives handle it.”
“I’m committed to helping even if it means for me to sit on the sidelines, again,” I assure. “But Marcus,” I start and he pierces me with a daring look. “I’m much better at playing the field.”
Rubbing his temples, he groans, “I can’t believe that I’m actually doing this.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Anna
“Mattox,” I yell down the dark passage for the hundredth time. My voice echoes until it dissolves into nothing. Dead silence. No reply. “Mattox, I’m sick of this. Get me out of here.” Again, nothing.
It has been over a week since he was last here. I’m beginning to think that he might be intentionally leaving me alone. Fear races through every cell in my body with that thought. How could he be so cruel? Only a monster would leave two innocent women locked inside a cave in some godforsaken country to die.
“Please, help me,” my whimpers are absorbed into the blackness once again.
Another day later, I open my eyes and see that I’m still lying in the damp and secluded hole that has been my lodging for what feels like months. Today, I don’t even have the strength to yell and my voice is growing hoarse from all the useless pleading. The Ryske effects have finally leveled out and I’m not suffering with the acidic night-terrors anymore. But sleep, good sleep anyway, escapes me, and I just want out of here.
Resting on my side, facing the stone wall, I let out a soft sigh when I hear footsteps approaching. Thank God. The clack of the loud latch causes me to jump and I twist my head around, seeing Mattox shoving open the door. His eyes scan the space, flittering over Waverly’s gaunt body before sliding over to meet my gaze.
“Hey,” he says, licking his lips nervously. His gray eyes roam over me, stretched out on the deflated air mattress. “What happened to your bed?”
“It died,” I croak and then clear my throat, “Like I’m going to do soon.”
Stepping toward me cautiously, he holds me in a powerful stare as he squats down. “Are you feeling ill?” His thumb strokes over my forehead before he places the back of his hand against it. His first touch, after revealing how he saved me and Waverly, only to drop us into this place, was unwanted and it unnerved me. Now, I feel nothing. It’s almost like he’s a ghost and it doesn’t even matter anymore. “No fever. Are you eating?”
Looking deeply into his eyes, I see true concern. But I’ve had enough of worthless sympathy to last a lifetime. “I can’t wait forever. Let me go, Mattox,” I whisper sadly. He blinks several times before looking over his shoulder at the doorway. “Please. I’m begging you to take me back to Willow.”
He looks back at me and sighs. “Okay, Anna, I’ll move you tomorrow.”
Hope rushes through my veins, making my heart pound wildly. The corners of my lips tip upward. “You promise?”
One side of his mouth curls into a slight grin and he tilts his head before asking, “Will you believe me if I say yes?”
Every ounce of joy that I experienced only moments ago evaporates immediately. Because with him answering my question with a question, he indicates that he’ll never keep a promise.
“Thanks for nothing.” Rolling away from him, I release a heavy breath and then feel his hand wrapping over my hip, tugging me back around.
“Don’t do that.” I don’t respond because he doesn’t deserve one. “I’m going to get you out of here.” His lies fall on deaf ears today. “Anna, I,” he pauses and then scrubs his hand across the back of his neck still keeping me locked in his silvery stare. The hardness of it falls and I see him, fragile and with the hint of truth begging to expose itself. “Don’t hate me.” Those weren’t exactly the words I expected him to use. “I mean,” he licks his lips, “Of course you hate me, but the decision I made to take you off that boat wasn’t on a whim. I knew what was planned and I just couldn’t do that to you…and Waverly.” My heartbeat ratchets up with his tender confession. “I’m no way an innocent guy in all of this, but I would never hurt you.” Now he turns away. “Breesan is who they want, but since they can’t find her they will use you to bring her out of hiding. I’m just not willing to let them do that.” He glances at me and clarifies, “To you and Waverly. Letting you go back home now isn’t safe. There’s something you should know.”
“What?” I blurt out angrily. “That you’re sorry. I’m so sick of all of this bullshit! You are the bad guy. I get it. Do whatever it is that you’re paid to do and stop filling my head with all of these ideas of actually getting out of here! I’m not stupid, Tox. I fell for your good-guy-bad-guy act in the beginning, just like you wanted” I lift myself up onto my elbows, still growling out fitfully. “Whatever it is that you think you know about Breesan Maxwell is all a bunch of lies. Julia was horrible to her. I know, because I was there. You. Weren’t!” The look on his face is pure hatred hearing me insult his mother. I stand and move over to the door, pressing my back against it. “I don’t care how pissed off you get. You’re going to hear me out.”
He laughs, but there’s not a drop of humor in his eyes and then sarcastically he states rather than asks, “Little girl, do you really think that you’re capable of forcing me to listen to you bash my mother and tell me bullshit about a girl, who had the perfect
life was mistreated by the mother she stole from me?”
“Who told you all of this stuff?” I bark back. “Because I know you weren’t there to witness anything that you claim. Clearly you’ve been fed a bunch of lies by your mother. Breesan’s life was horrible. I remember when she was twelve that Julia sent her off to have her memories removed. How did she do that, Tox? Was it Ryske?”
His bitter glare shifts to something else when he pulls his eyes away from looking at me to study the door behind me. Oddly, he shakes his head once and then focuses on me again.
“When she returned home a year later, she didn’t remember our friendship, and she was so…broken. I don’t understand. Why would your perfect mother put her through that?” My voice drips with sarcasm.
“Shut up, Anna,” he warns. “I’m allowing you to say your peace, but I’ve reached my limits on you talking shit about my mother.”
“Fine,” I resign. “Breesan was my best friend one day and then the next time I saw her she didn’t recognize me. How did Julia get that drug way back then? I thought it was new.”
“This is the part where you expect me to tell you how my mother changed your friend from a sweet and innocent little girl to a bitter teenager, right?” I cross my arms over my chest, waiting for him to confirm that I guessed correctly. “Well, that will never happen. I don’t owe you a damn thing.”
“Yes, you do,” I disagree and then demand, “Listen, I know that I’m never getting out of this mess alive, so just be a man and tell me the truth for a change.”
“The truth?” he scoffs. “In that thin, black line between truth and lies is a shadow that holds all the answers. The funny thing about shadows,” he smiles arrogantly, “they are a hint of something, but not actually the real thing. My truth and yours is obviously influentially different. I was told and observed one thing, while you lived an alternate version. Even if I share my side of it, what will it take for you to believe me?” He quirks an eyebrow skyward challengingly and concludes, “You won’t, because you’ve already made up your mind.”