DELUDE

by Jacob Chance

  DELUDE

  Jacob Chance

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. Zack

  2. Lana

  3. Zack

  4. Lana

  5. Zack

  6. Lana

  7. Zack

  8. Lana

  9. Zack

  10. Lana

  11. Zack

  12. Lana

  13. Zack

  14. Lana

  15. Zack

  16. Zack

  17. Lana

  18. Zack

  19. Zack

  20. Lana

  21. Zack

  22. Lana

  23. Zack

  Epilogue

  Untitled

  About the Author

  Penalty

  Prologue

  Brady

  Acknowledgments

  Copyright 2017 © Jacob Chance

  All rights reserved

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This novel is a work of fiction. While reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to people either living or deceased, business establishments, events or locales is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Any trademarks, service marks, product names or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used.

  Cover design by Jessica Hildreth

  Edited by Vivian Freeman

  Content Edited by Paula Dawn

  This book contains mature content and may have possible triggers.

  Dedication

  There’s only one person I can dedicate this book to. Without her DELUDE wouldn’t have happened. I never intended to write a book about Zack. I planned to kill him off in DELVE. He was going to die a gruesome death and I was really looking forward to writing that scene. Laura Martinéz promised me she wouldn’t be the only person who’d want to know his story. She was a Zack advocate from the first words I wrote about him in QUIVER and she pushed me through writing DELUDE. This was a tough book for me. Zack as a psycho was easy to write, but to make him redeemable and relatable – not so easy.

  This one’s for you Laura/Lana. Thank you for believing in Zack when I didn’t and for being such a great friend.

  Prologue

  Zack

  Ten years ago

  Sobs fill the silence of the room. “Dad, leave mom alone,” I shout, pushing on his chest and shoving him back a couple of feet. Like a tenacious pit bull after a chew toy - this fucker just keeps coming.

  Each time he comes back harder, finally snaking by me. Gripping her upper arm in his meaty fist, he digs his fingers deep into her skin, and uses his other arm to block me.

  Cries from the pain and the fear he instills mix with the stench of alcohol emanating from his body. His other hand goes to her neck, gripping under her chin. The shriek piercing my ears is cut off when he squeezes.

  Her face changes color.

  Red. Then purple. Finally, heading into the blue family. Blue’s always been my favorite color, but I can’t say I’ve ever seen this exact shade before. It’s the color of sadness and the ocean of tears my mom has cried over this asshole.

  Everything happens fast. Her eyes open wide and bulge as the pressure of his fingers increases.

  She can’t breathe and I’m paralyzed standing behind him, watching it happen.

  Transfixed with fascination, I stare. Her eyes lock on me, her love shining through the agony she’s experiencing. The terror and pleading in her eyes fades to acceptance.

  She knows this time she’s going to die.

  Tears flow uncontrolled down her cheeks and a sense of relief washes over me.

  This is the last time he’ll ever make her cry.

  1

  Zack

  September

  I can’t wait to take this fucker by surprise. He won’t know what hit him.

  The hour is late. They should be asleep by now. Standing in front of the door to Janny’s apartment, I carefully jimmy the lock. I’m confident they’ll sleep through the faint sound the pick is making. I smile as the lock turns.

  Tentatively gripping the knob, I begin turning it to the right. The faintest noise on the other side of the door has me pausing.

  I never ignore my instincts or talk myself out of what they’re telling me. When you grow up with an abusive father like mine, you learn to listen better than most. Things that went bump in the night at my house were scarier than you could imagine.

  Kyle’s standing on the other side of the door; I know this with the utmost certainty. I breathe deep, to settle the adrenaline rushing through my veins.

  There’s power in knowing I’m willing and prepared to do whatever it takes to come out of this fight the victor.

  After a moment of complete quiet inside the apartment, I quickly turn the knob and swing the door open. The glint of the knife in my hand reflects the light from the hallway.

  He rushes forward, striking me in the chest and chin with the palm heels of his hands. I take three unsteady steps backward out of the apartment and swing the knife across his midsection as I stumble from the force of his blows. I smile when I feel the blade slice along the surface of his stomach.

  Motherfucker. He must have heard me picking the lock.

  I can’t wait to kill him.

  The flesh wound doesn’t slow him down at all.

  I’m still off balance as Kyle moves forward, striking my chest and face again. He drives me further back into the hallway. I can’t recover fast enough and he secures the hand holding the knife with both of his.

  He wraps his left arm under mine then spins back around, snapping my wrist inward, forcing me to drop the knife onto the floor. Fuck. I’m losing patience. I can’t catch up. He’s one step ahead of me always.

  He kicks the knife across the hall with his heel, then snaps his leg forward, sweeping the inside of my right leg out. I drop face first to the carpet. I instantly react rolling aside as he tries to stomp a heel onto the side of my face.

  I jump to my feet just as fast as he put me down and we move slowly in a tight circle, each of us searching for an opening. I’m favoring my wrist and breathing heavy with pain and fatigue. This fight isn’t going how I planned.

  My plan to approach sleeping victims and face no resistance is no longer an option.

  I lunge forward in desperation, attempting a double leg takedown, as Kyle slides back and sprawls out of reach. He drops an elbow straight down into the base of my neck. I’m disoriented, on all fours, and I scream when he stomps on one of my ankles, turning it sideways. I know serious damage has been done.

  He kicks me a second time directly in the face, while I lay on my side holding my ankle.

  Janny unexpectedly appears in the open doorway. She’s shocked at first, taking everything in. Once she recognizes me she leaps in my direction. Kyle jumps in between us to stop her from joining the fight.

  “Goddamn it, Janny. Get back. Lock the door and call the police,” Kyle yells at her, carrying her back inside. She struggles, fighting to launch herself over his shoulder to get to me.

  He drops her down inside the door. Her eyes are wide open staring directly behind him as I quietly approach.

  “Kyle.” She screams out too late.

  I take advantage of his distractio
n, lower my shoulder and dive forward. I spear him in the small of the back and slam him into the wall beside the door.

  By the time, he recovers, I’m in the doorway, gripping Janny’s hair in one hand and my knife in the other.

  Waves of nausea wash over me from the intense pain. Through sheer will I’m able to stand on my injured ankle while Janny fights, giving me all I can handle.

  She struggles to free herself, scratching at my eyes and digging furrows in my flesh in the process.

  I’m through with this asshole, and if hurting her is the best way to get my revenge then so be it.

  Three can keep a secret if two of them are dead.

  I raise the knife overhead, prepared to swing it down at Janny, when Kyle steps in. He forces me to free her by grabbing my injured wrist. She falls onto the floor. He uses the momentum of my swing to bury the knife in my stomach up to the hilt.

  The impact of the blow makes me stagger back to the top of the stairwell. I try to speak, but I can’t form any words. The sight of the knife buried in my gut is surreal. The hardwood of the handle feels cool and smooth under my fingertips as my mind races with incoherent thoughts and my body tries to compensate for the trauma.

  The pain is excruciating.

  I can barely breathe.

  My heart pounds faster than it ever has.

  Blood trickles from the corner of my mouth, warm and metallic, as I stare at Kyle in disbelief. He walks straight over and kicks me in the chest.

  The tumble backward down the long flight of stairs seems as if it’s happening in slow motion. Each crack and thump of my body is muted in my foggy head until I hit the landing, my broken body contorted in an unnatural position.

  My eyelids are so fucking heavy. Through the slits, I see him watching and waiting for movement. I’m smarter than that. I hold absolutely still.

  Janny slumps against him with a sob. He wraps his arms around her.

  Poor little Janny. Try having a knife in your gut.

  “Is he dead?” she asks, her voice muffled against his blood-splattered chest. Her thin arms cling to him like she’s never going to let go.

  “Yeah. I don’t think anyone can survive a knife wound like that to the abdomen.”

  Stupid move. He should know better than to underestimate me.

  I wait until they’re gone, out of sight, back into the safety of Janny’s apartment, before I make my move.

  One foot, two feet...blood pools around me leaving a trail on the concrete floor as I slowly drag myself. Three feet, four feet...fuck. Death is not an option. Five feet, six feet...gripping the edge of the wall I brace myself against it and unsteadily rise to my feet.

  The burning pain in my stomach has me gasping for breath.

  I pull my cellphone out of my pocket and send a text to an old friend. He’ll have help here for me in no time.

  By sheer will and determination alone that Kyle McKenzie will die by my own hand, I manage to make it inside the door of the service elevator.

  So much blood. It seeps through my fingertips. I push the button to bring me to the garage level, leaving a bright red smudge, and try to catch my breath. It’s no use.

  Shit, it’s so cold. At least the blood pouring out of my wound is warm.

  I know I’m in the first stages of shock, my body’s shutting down from the loss of blood.

  When the elevator doors open, I carefully move along the hallway until I’m standing in front of the back exit. Leaning my head on the cold steel, I rest for a moment, but I know I’m running out of time.

  When I push open the metal door, Anthony, an old friend, is waiting for me. We’ve known each other since I first moved to New York eight years ago.

  I met him at a bar one night, and we hit it off. Since then I’ve come to learn he’s mob connected and deeply so. If there’s anything I need, Anthony will take care of it. And I mean anything.

  Maybe I should have hired him to kill Kyle. Fuck that. I’ll get him next time.

  “Fuck, dude. You’re all kinds of fucked up,” he says, stating the obvious.

  “I need…you to…do…me a…favor.” I struggle with each breath I take and each word I say. “Wipe…any…trace of…me.”

  Anthony’s eyes briefly flick to me. “Consider it done brother.”

  I don’t answer. All my focus is on each inhale of air into my lungs and living long enough to get retribution. He slings my arm around his shoulder and assists me to his car. Once inside, I lean my head back and close my eyes. Five minutes later, we’re at the back door of a surgical clinic.

  Being involved with the mob has its perks. Including getting medical treatment from doctors who owe your friend favors. Gloves snap on, orders are shouted, and I’m wheeled on a stretcher down the stark white hallway to the operating room.

  And lucky for Hell, I’ll live to see another day.

  2

  Lana

  September

  My vision blurs as I endlessly stare at the computer screen. It’s not easy finding the right John Smith. It’s a common name. There are over two thousand of them in the six New England states alone. Glancing at the clock I realize I’ve been at this for four hours now. Time for a lunch break.

  Pushing back my chair, I rise, grabbing my purse and cellphone.

  My shoes are silent on the hallway carpet as I head toward the front reception area. I’m the only one in the office today. Kyle, one of my bosses is in New York City with his girlfriend, Janny, and Derek, my other boss had a few appointments this morning.

  Pushing open the glass door of the office building, I take in the late September day here in Boston. The temps are mild and the sun is out, perfect weather for walking to my favorite pizza place.

  Leisurely strolling down the sidewalk, and doing a bit of window shopping at the same time, the ring of my phone startles me. Pulling it out of my pocket, I smile when I see my boss Kyle’s little sister’s name. She’s one of the few friends I’ve made since moving here a few months ago.

  “Hey, Kenna.”

  “Lana,” she sobs.

  “Kenna, what’s wrong?” I ask. My steps falter, then freeze in the middle of the sidewalk.

  “It’s Janny. Something awful happened. Some psycho drugged her wine and then undressed her while she was unconscious.” She pauses, her sobs quieting. “He filmed himself masturbating beside her bed and sent the video to her and Kyle.”

  “Oh, my God,” I gasp, covering my mouth with my hand. “Is she okay?”

  “Yes, but that’s not all.” Kenna sniffs. “The guy broke in her apartment in the middle of the night and attacked Kyle. It was someone Janny worked with. The worst part is, it was someone she considered a friend.”

  My eyes open wide. “Oh, my God,” I whisper. “Is Kyle hurt?”

  “No, they fought, but it ended with the guy’s own knife buried in his stomach.”

  I gasp, shocked someone would want to harm Kyle or Janny and grateful they’re both alright.

  “They found his body.”

  “What do you mean they found it?” I cut her off.

  “He disappeared before the police showed up, but Kyle said he got a call from the NYPD today, telling him they found him not far from Janny’s apartment. I guess he couldn’t survive for long with a stomach wound that serious and so much blood loss.”

  “I’m so glad they’re both okay.” I slowly begin to walk down the sidewalk again.

  “I don’t know what I would have done if Kyle had been the one to get knifed,” she cries.

  My heart aches for her. Kyle and Kenna lost their parents ten years ago, to a drunk driving accident. Kenna was only fifteen at the time. After their deaths, Kyle raised her and as a result, they’re closer than most siblings.

  “Oh, Kenna, he’s okay. Everything’s going to be fine,” I reassure her. “Kyle’s strong. He’s overcome so much and this will be no different. There’s nothing for you to worry about. He’s going to take good care of Janny.”

  “I know. I ju
st hate how much they’ve had to deal with. I wish they could catch a break.”

  The beep of my other line signaling another call cuts in. “Kenna I have another call, but please reach out if you need anything, even if it’s just to talk, okay?”

  “Okay, bye for now,” Kenna replies. I click over to the other line.

  “Hi, mom.”

  “There’s my girl. How are you dear?” I can hear concern in her tone. It’s upsetting knowing she worries about me so much.

  “I’m good. There’s nothing for you to be concerned about.”

  “Lana, it’s a mother’s full time job. Worrying is what we do.”

  “I know, but I’m fine. I love Boston and the friends I’ve made. My job at K.D. Investigations is awesome. Kyle and Derek might be the best bosses ever.”

  “Are they single?” she innocently asks.

  I roll my eyes. “Kyle has a girlfriend, Janny. They’re ridiculously in love.” I smile and then frown as I think about the serious nature of what they’re currently dealing with. “Derek is single, but he has a thing for Kyle’s sister, Kenna. No one seems to notice how the sparks fly between the two of them, but I see it so clearly.”

  “Well, you’ve always been good at sitting back and observing others.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing dear, just stating a fact. Are you dating anyone?” She abruptly changes the subject.

  I scowl at the question. “No, mom I’m not. I don't know why you feel the need to ask me this every single time we talk. Does it really seem plausible in the two days since our last conversation I met someone and we’re already dating?”

  “I just want you to be happy.”

  I roll my eyes. “If you want me to be happy then you’d stop asking me this. I have to go now. Love you.”