“Ms. Thornton?”
The man, his black wind breaker littered in reflective tape, eyed me with concern. He’d asked me a question.
“What?”
He shifted, a sign he was getting uncomfortable. “We’re taking your mother now.”
His words took a moment to register properly, but it was the black body bag his friends were carting down the steps that really registered.
Christ, I’d forgotten about her.
“Fine.”
His brow did a weird twitch I assumed was his confusion to my dismissal. I supposed he was expecting me to get hysterical and fall apart, but I had my own problems. My mother’s overdose was only one more glitch I had to deal with.
I needed my planner.
Leaving them to see themselves out, I picked my way to the parlor. My purse was exactly where I’d dropped it on the sofa on my way to the drink cart. My drink was on the coffee table, abandoned.
Wasted.
I hated wasting a good drink, but the stupid maid had come screaming into the room about my mother and what was I supposed to do? Mother didn’t like it when we walked through the house with our drinks. She considered it rude. Who knew why?
My planner opened directly to the proper date, courtesy of the pen wedged between the pages. I clicked the top and wrote, “Mother dead. Call Eric and others.”
I peered over the other things I needed to do, and mused that I probably should have cried. A parent dying was traumatic, especially given how and why she was dead, but the woman had always been a source of annoyance. Her weakness irked me. She never could grow a backbone. Killing herself, intentionally or not only proved what I already knew — she was useless. Father always said so. He’d been right, of course. Even in death, she was an embarrassment; how were we supposed to explain this shit to people? It was just like her to humiliate us once more before kicking the bucket.
“Useless bitch.”
I snapped my book closed.
This was going to be a nightmare to clean up.
Stupid, selfish bitch.
Typical.
I pulled my phone out and dialed Eric; she’d been his mother most, after all. He should deal with her.
He didn’t answer. Not surprising. It was only seven in the evening. Way too early to be awake.
God, I was getting tired of these people. Why did I have to do everything?
Me: “Mother is dead.”
I sent the text, then pushed phone and planner back into my purse.
Satisfied I’d done all I could, I went to make myself a fresh drink. I certainly needed it. My world was in chaos. I’d not only lost Kieran to that worthless whore, that filthy gutter rat, but I’d upset Daddy. I knew he’d had big plans and I hadn’t tried hard enough. Now, he was threatening Daddy with lies, and all because of that thing Mother had brought into our lives. This was her fault. None of it would have ever happened if she had been a good wife and kept her legs shut. Who could blame Daddy for being angry? Everyone had let him down.
But I wouldn’t. I would find a way to fix this. I would win Kieran. I would finish Daddy’s plans. And, once I did, he would love me again and everything would go back to being like it was.
I just needed a plan.
Chapter Twenty-Two — Kieran
The Charger was waiting for me when I pulled into the driveway. Its unfamiliar presence had me coming to a slow rolling stop behind him.
The driver side door opened as I cut the engine and a tall figure unfolded himself from behind the wheel.
I got out and met him between the two cars.
“Mr. Rutherford.” I pocketed my keys. “This is certainly a surprise.”
I accepted the hand he offered me.
“I apologize for the late hour, Mr. Kincaid, but I was hoping we could talk.”
I pulled in a breath. “Right now isn’t the best time for me. I’m in a hurry.”
“It would be but a moment of your time. I believe this might be a matter of great importance.”
Intrigued, I motioned to the house, inviting him in. I hoped whatever was on his mind would be shared quickly.
Neither of us said a word as we walked up the steps. I let us in and he followed me into my office. I took us to the sitting area rather than the desk.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Rutherford?”
“Tiberius, please. Mr. Rutherford was my father.”
“Kieran.” I went to the drink cart and poured us each a tumbler of scotch. “What brings you?”
He accepted the drink and I took the sofa across from him.
“We never got a chance to talk at the auction,” Tiberius started. “I understand it’s not the normal sort of place for conversation, but I feel it might have made what I’m about to tell you slightly easier.” He took a sip of his drink. “I knew your father. Not very well, but he was on good terms with my father. They shared many of the same ... interests.”
I knew what that meant and took a swig of my own drink.
Tiberius chuckled. “Yes, that sums up my own thoughts on the matter as well.” He lowered his gaze to his drink.
“Was Gabrielle the first?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Forgive me.” He gave his head a reproaching shaking. “This is quite out of the ordinary for me.” He fixed me with those eyes that seemed to possess their own light. “Was she the first girl you ever purchased, is what I mean to ask?”
Not entirely confident in the line of conversation, I nodded.
“How long have you known her?”
Impatience won out. “Mr. —”
“Bear with me.” He offered me a smile. “I promise there’s a method to my madness.”
Feeling the urge to tell him to leave, I answered, “Seven years.”
He nodded as if that made sense. “I thought as much when I saw your face.”
“My face?”
He sat back. “During the auction, when the curtains were drawn back on her. It was the face of a man who’d been hit in the stomach by an elephant. It made me curious to your relationship with her.”
I considered his response, picking it apart to determine his true purpose.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t understand what—”
“Where is she?”
The question momentarily threw me. I had no answer, no explanation as to why Gabby was missing or why I hadn’t phoned the police. Normal people asked those questions and expected realistic answers. No one would understand that Gabby’s father had had her abducted, or that I was blackmailing him to get her back. It just wasn’t done outside of some Liam Neeson movie.
“She’s ... it’s complicated and a personal matter.”
He was quiet for a long stretch of time, time spent with contemplation narrowing his eyes.
Finally, just when I was ready to think he’d dropped the matter, he adjusted himself on the cushion, making the soft leather rustle.
“Can I tell you a story, Kieran? I know that’s a bit unorthodox, but I assure you, I have a point.”
I leaned back, confusion overruling my original desire to ask him to hurry up.
“Of course.”
He finished the last of his drink and set the glass down on the coffee table.
“I was eighteen when I bought my first girl — Amanda. She was the prettiest girl I’d ever seen. Her father had forced her into the auction to feed his many habits. I fell for her. I knew I wasn’t supposed to, but I didn’t care. I was ready to leave it all behind for her, become a farmer and live on a farm with her forever. She loved animals and I wanted to give her everything.” He met my gaze with a wistful grin. “I had a year with her before my father found out.” His smile slipped. “I never saw her again. She just vanished off the face of the earth one day. I looked everywhere. Spent millions trying to track her down. But if my father was good at anything, it was making things disappear. Losing her nearly destroyed me. Even to this day ... I sometimes see her in my girls and all that pain comes right ba
ck.”
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, struck by how familiar his story was. He could have been talking about me and Gabby. “That can’t have been easy.”
“It wasn’t.” he took a deep breath. “It still isn’t, which is why I’m here.” His steely gaze bore into me. “I know about Gabrielle.”
I stilled all over. My heart gave a violent knock on my chest, the excited leap of a startled birds before hitting the glass.
“Where is she?”
He shook his head. “First, tell me about her.”
I blinked. “What? Why?”
He shrugged. “Because we’re sharing.” He spread his arm across the back of the sofa. “Tell me about Gabrielle.”
“Tell me where she is first!”
“You first.”
“If you’ve hurt her...”
He put a hand up between us. “I’m responsible for many things, but hurting a woman without her consent is not one of them. I assure you, she’s safe where she is.”
“You son of a bitch! Where is she?”
I hadn’t realized I’d leaped to my feet until I was towering over him.
“Mr. Kincaid, please, I did not come here to fight with you.”
“Then tell me where she is.”
The man sighed heavily. “I suppose it’s only fair. I have her at my warehouse. She was brought there and she’s unharmed. Now, indulge me.”
I forced my knees to bend. The cushion took the drop off my weight with only a single, stiff bounce.
“What the hell can I tell you about Gabby?” I chuckled wearily, hand rubbing at my chin. “I never deserved her. In the three years that I’ve been in love with her, that’s all I kept telling myself — I don’t deserve her. She’s too sweet, too innocent, too shy. I couldn’t even get her to look me in the eye when we were talking. I couldn’t get her to stand still long enough for even a full conversation. She always seemed to be running from me, and I thought maybe she had the right idea. I had nothing to offer her and what I wanted to offer her, it didn’t feel like it was enough.” I paused to run the fingers on that same hand back through my hair. “Everything changed the night of the auction. The moment those blinds opened and I saw her...” I shook my head. “My whole world seemed to come crashing down around me. You have no idea how close I came to breaking that fucking glass, grabbing her, and taking her home.”
Tiberius offered me an understanding half grin.
“I wasn’t leaving that place without her, whether because I won her, or because I killed the fucker who out bid me, but I wasn’t letting anyone else take her.” My chin lowered until I had the place between my feet fixed in my line of vision. “But I finally had her. She was mine. She was my Gabby. She was in my bed, in my arms. And the craziest thing, she loves me, too. She wants me, too. She lights up when she sees me. I never thought I’d have that. Not with her. I never thought I’d find that kind of peace.”
I blew out a breath and lifted my face to his.
“You want me to tell you about Gabby, but I can’t. You can’t hear about her and understand what it means to be with her. You can’t understand how beautifully broken she is. How each shattered piece is imperfection, and yet when you see her smile, it’s fucking poetry. Being with her, feeling her in my arms, waking up in the middle of the night and seeing her face on the pillow next to mine, I would give up everything, sell my soul even to have that forever. So, to answer your request, no, there is nothing I can tell you about her that would properly describe how much I love her.”
His fingers drummed lazily on the armrest. A pink tongue snuck out and poked at his bottom lip.
“What would you give for her return?
Chapter Twenty-Three — David
The world was against me. I could feel the hot breath of rage and indignation huffing against the back of my neck. It was enough to make my blood boil and my vision haze behind the crimson curtain.
How dare he?
How dare he talk to me as if I were like him, a nobody, a nameless bastard with no future? He had no idea who he was dealing with. He had no idea the lengths I was prepared to go to get what belonged to me. I would show him. Once his pathetic little empire belonged to me, I would crush him into the ground. Maybe I’d even keep that little whore of his for myself and show her what a real man was like.
But first, I had to deal with the problem at hand. I had to get Gabrielle back. Then I had to get her as far away from the city and civilization as possible. Despite the confidentiality agreement, I was under no illusion that Rutherford would keep what he knew to himself. Sympathy from the world because Gabrielle was getting rest and relaxation in Switzerland was easier when there weren’t witnesses to argue the alibi. Plus, I couldn’t have him ruining my family name, not after everything I’d been through to keep it clean of mud.
So many complications I needed to fix. Too many loose ends that would need to be resolved. My job was never done.
The phone in my pocket buzzed, an annoying vibration against the side of my hip. I considered ignoring it, in no mood to be distracted when I was neck deep in preparations, but I had passed the hour mark and I wagered Kieran was on the phoning with another bogus demand.
It was Eric’s name on the screen.
For the second time in seconds, I weighed against the decision to hit the end button. My thumb hovered over the screen, inching towards cutting the call; whatever he wanted, his mother could help him with. If he needed bail money, needed money period, she would know how to handle it. I couldn’t even recall the last time I even spoke to the boy over the phone. Maybe it was for that reason that I opted to pick up.
“Yes?”
The roar of an engine overpowered the line. It clashed with the shriek of wind through the open windows. There was nothing else for several long seconds before I heard Eric’s hoarse response.
“Dad?”
I struggled not to roll my eyes; who else would pick up my phone?
“Was there something you needed, Eric?”
I thought I heard a sniffle.
“What the hell is going on?”
Hysteria thickened the emotional state of his question, the unmistakable wobble of his tears. Its cadence was enough to make me peer down at my device, just to be certain one of us wasn’t answering the wrong number.
“What the hell are you talking about?” I demanded, once certain it was in fact my son.
He actually sobbed, an irritating sound no grown man should ever allow anyone to hear. Its utter weakness made me cringe in my seat.
“What happened to Mom?”
The hysteria had grown in his voice, becoming a broken cacophony of grief I couldn’t even pretend not to be annoyed by.
“Eric, are you drinking? Pull over before you kill yourself and leave me to deal with your mother’s whining.”
His sniveling turned my stomach. “Is Mom dead?”
I momentarily forgot about the fact that my thirty year old son was snotting all over himself like an infant and pondered his question.
“What are you talking about?”
He choked on a whimper. “Cordelia texted me that Mom was dead. I tried to reach her, but she’s not picking up.”
Not this again. Marcella had a flare for the dramatic, especially when she let herself fall apart. She was such a tedious creature, a spineless flower — beautiful to look at, but weak and frustratingly delicate. The slightest breeze and she was a wilting, scattered mess. That whole ordeal with Kieran must have sent her into one of her little blackouts. I would no doubt find her in the bathroom, a needle in her arm, foam bubbling up past her lips, but dead? I wouldn’t be so lucky.
“I’m sure she’s fine. I’ll have Jameson check on her.”
“But Cordelia said—”
“Cordelia is in no position to be telling anyone anything,” I cut in. “She’s upset with me and is taking it out on you as Cordelia does.”
“You’re sure? What about the text Mom sent me?”
Oh for Ch
rist sakes.
“You’re too old to be weeping like a woman, Eric. Control yourself and get back to your day. This display of nonsense is ridiculous and humiliating. You should be ashamed. No son of mine, no Thornton, would be caught carrying on in such a disgraceful manner. I am appalled.”
I hung up.
But rather than put the phone away, I dialed my lawyer. Whatever issues Marcella was having could wait. I had bigger problems that needed dealing with.
Bruce answered on the second ring, sounding mildly breathless, but no less brisk.
“I have a matter I need you to look into,” I stated simply, careful to veil the tiny knot of panic in my chest.
“Would you like to set something up for tomorrow?”
“No, now. I’ll be at your office in twenty.”
I cut the line before Bruce could utter another word. I didn’t want to hear excuses. I was the reason he had a villa in Italy. He would see me whenever I wanted, wherever I wanted.
“Bruce’s office, Ansel.”
I only caught the briefest bob of the driver’s head, making the naked folds of skin between his thick neck and shaven head bunch. I could have sworn it grinned at me a little. Did normal people get rolls along the back of their heads? Was it possible for a head to be so large that it would leave layers of skin? Six years of driving me around and I couldn’t believe I never noticed, but heads should not have rolls.
I made a mental note to get a new driver, which reminded me of my other problem.
Cordelia answered before the first ring even finished, her voice a high pitched squeak of an excited bird. The hope in her breathy little gasp made my temples thrum.
“Daddy?”
I should have called Marcella, but if the junky was passed out on the floor, she probably wouldn’t have picked up anyway. No. I should have called Jameson.
Damn it.
“Where’s your mother?” Her hesitation took just long enough to sear against my patience. “Cordelia!”
“I...”
“Fucking useless.” I stabbed the end call button a bit harder than was necessary, surprising myself that the screen didn’t shatter.
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