My phone begins to ring in my hand, and for a moment, I feel relief. It has to be Penny calling me back. I look down and see Sneak’s name flash across the small LCD screen.
Not Penny.
“Yo, Sneak, tell me you have some good news,” I answer and place it agiants my ear. I ignore the sick feeling churning away at my insides.
Please let this be a bad dream.
“Where’s Penny?” he asks, and the hair on the back of my neck stand stiff at the roots.
Her car isn’t in the driveway.
“She’s at the tutoring session. Why?”
“What’s the name of the student she’s meeting with tonight?”
“Dahlia Tomas, why?”
“Fuck,” he swears loudly into the phone. My stomach drops.
“Sneak, if you don’t tell me what the fuck is going on—”
“There is no Dahlia Tomas. She doesn’t exsist.”
“What are you saying?”
“You need to find Penny. Now,” he shouts, and I hear the desperation in his voice. He senses the same thing I do. Penny’s in danger. “Do you have an address?”
For a moment, the world goes black, and I feel the air in my lungs seize.
Penny.
All I can think about is the way she’s walked into my life and turned my world upside down.
Penny.
She’s stolen my heart, and I haven’t even told her so.
Penny.
“Damien!” Sneak shouts across the line, pulling me from the downward spiral my thoughts were headed.
“Yeah, I’m here. I’m standing outside the location she gave me,” I manage, trying to keep it together long enough to gather my wits and give him Dahlia’s address. “Her car is here, man, but no one is opening the door.”
“Stay put, man. Rafe and King are headed your way now.” He tries his best to keep me calm, and for a moment, it does. My brothers are coming.
“I’ve got to get inside.”
“Diz, man, don’t go in alone, they are—”
“Not close enough, man. If she’s in there, I need to get to her before—”
“Don’t think like that, man. Everything is going to be all right. You said her car is there?”
“Yes, but no one’s answering the door,” I repeat as I move across the lawn to another window, checking it as well. It’s empty, too. Knowing that my gut instinct from the start was correct, I move to the door, this time forcing the knob to turn and throwing my weight against it. It cracks and splinters under the pressure.
“What was that?” Sneak asks. Clearly, my forced entry was much louder than I wanted it to be.
“I’m in,” I tell him before ending the call and putting the phone in my back pocket. He’s right. I shouldn’t go in alone, especially unarmed, but there’s no turning back now.
I step inside the dark house, ears straining for any sign of life. But there is none. I hear a ping like an incoming text message sound off in the next room, and I’m in motion. Stepping into the room with the light, I spot Penny’s purse under the window I looked through.
The contents are spread across the floor. Her phone pings again. I want to go to it, but my feet are frozen as the truth bears down on me.
She isn’t here.
And this has become an official crime scene.
I don’t have to look through the house to know she isn’t here. And whoever is behind it, there won’t be any trace of them. Not that I need one. If my insticts are right, I already know who has her.
There’s one person to call who can waylay this gnawing feeling. One person who better have the answers I need, because if he doesn’t, there will be hell to pay.
I pull my phone from my pocket and place it to my ear, listening to it ring.
“McNamara,” he answers like he’s some important asshole.
“You fucking piece of shit,” I spit, feeling all sorts of things all at once. Most of it anger.
“Reynolds,” he clips, and I hear irritation in his voice. What he has to be irritated about, I couldn’t care less. “You aren’t supposed to contact me. I told you we’d relay any and all messages through your boss.”
“She’s gone.”
“Who?”
“My wife. Who do you think I’m talking about?”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Did she decide to go home after all?”
“No, you dumb son of a bitch. Someone took her.”
“Damien—”
“Something hasn’t sat right with me since that day. Something has been gnawing at my gut ever since,” I cut him off, not caring to hear any of the garbage he’s going to try and feed me. “Here’s your warning. Don’t fuck with me about this. I know someone isn’t accounted for, and I want to know who it is.”
“The investigation isn’t finished. I told you when we—”
“Keep yanking my chain, McNamara, and you won’t see it coming. Tell me who the fuck got out.”
He sighs heavily over the line. “Charles Pullman and Mirabelle Johnston.”
“Fuck,” I swear across the line, rage filling my body. I want to reach through the line and strangle McNamara for his stupidity. He should have told me this was the case from the beginning. “How long have you known?”
“About a week after the bust,” he admits, and I feel another surge of anger. “I couldn’t tell you without jeopardizing the case. We’ve had no new leads since that night either. We think they’ve gone to ground.”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
“Damien—”
“Mirabelle has been posing as a student in Penny’s classes.”
“And you didn’t report this?”
“I never met the girl she was tutoring, and it never crossed my mind that she could be a threat to Penny. We were told the investigation was all but signed and sealed. Had someone told me that Charles and Mirabelle were not accounted for, I would have never left Alaska.”
“If you remember correctly, you weren’t supposed to leave until the damn investigation was signed and sealed. You’re the one who decided to change everything up. Starting with the girl—”
“And you know if I hadn’t gone back, she would be dead.”
“Had the explosion gone off any sooner, you’d both be dead.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I yell, my head pounding from the anger boiling in my veins. I feel like I’m going to lose my mind if I don’t get the answers I want.
“Damien, we’ll find her.”
“Like I’m going to trust anything you say to me, man. You knew from the start the proof I stumbled on proved there was more to Charles than we thought. The connections he had, man, we’ll never find him this time around. If he has Penny, there’s a big chance we’ll never see her again,” I finish, feeling no better than I did when I call McNamara.
The sound of Kingston’s truck skidding to a hault outside sobers me. There’s no point taking this out on the FBI. It’s no surprise they mucked this shit up. I’m just pissed the woman I love has fallen victim to their screw-up.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have come home when we did, but if you had done your job right, none of this would be happening right now,” I rein in my anger, preparing to see my brothers in arms and get the ball rolling. “My team has arrived. I think we have a better chance at finding her than you do.”
“Whatever you need, don’t hesitate to call me—”
“Ain’t gonna call you, McNamara, but I will call your supervisor. How do you think they’re gonna take the news one of the victims in the operation has once again fallen into the bad guy’s hands? Man, I’d resign if I were you.” I hang up, not giving him a second thought.
“Diz, man, you in there?”
The cavalry has arrived, and for the first time since walking into this hell hole, I take a deep breath.
Chapter 41
Penelope
“Good morning, Penelope.”
The greeting jerks me awake, and I fumble off the lumpy mattress t
o my feet as fear spikes through my body all the way down to my toes. I look through my messy hair past the glass window and gasp.
My stepfather is sitting casually on the La-Z-Boy sofa, on the other side of it. The smile draped across his face sends shivers down my spine and leaves me confused.
“You’re supposed to be dead,” I whisper, and the amused look vanishes. His eyes grow dark and ominous.
“Been talking to your whore of a mother, have you?”
“Fuck you,” I spit, pushing aside the fear my body naturally has for him. My mother was just as much a victim to this man as I was, and it angers me to hear him speak of her that way. I’ve never understood why she stayed with him. I know she didn’t love him. My mother feared him. We all did. I’m starting to wonder what he had over her to make her stay.
“Oh, sweet girl, you’ll know what that feels like very soon,” he snickers, watching me carfully for my reaction.
But something else happens.
A memory.
One I buried a long time ago.
It was dark when I arrived home. Too dark. Something was wrong.
When I’d left for school this morning, Mama hadn’t come out of her room yet, but she was heavy with child, and I’d been told her time would come soon. I wasn’t sure what that meant exactly, but I had a feeling it meant the baby would be here soon.
I closed and locked the door behind me and placed my book bag on the hook beside it. Clicking on the lamp beside the door, I froze because my stepfather was sitting in the chair directly across from me. Staring at me with eyes so dark, that if they didn’t have white, I would have thought he was some kind of devil creature.
“You’re late,” he drawled, and I saw the fury rolling through him. I knew the signs. Narrowed eyes, controlled voice, and his hand gripping the arms of the chair tightly, trying to control it all. But that wouldn’t last long. It never did.
“I had a tutoring session this evening. Mamae knew about it.” I took a step back, wishing I had known he was expected home today. I would have canceled my session then. He didn’t like that I tutored other students; in fact, he hated that I was being educated at all.
He got like this a lot when he was home, but rarely with me. Only when my mother wasn’t here to be his punching bag. While he’d never kept his hatred of me a secret, he rarely did anything about it.
Tonight, though, my Mamae wasn’t here.
But I was.
“Aren’t you going to beg me?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. I shook my head. Begging him in the past had never stopped him. He’d hit me harder when I spoke too much. I’d learned to take my beating, all the while praying it didn’t last long. Some of the tension coiled tightly in his body loosened a little. “Good girl. You’re learning. If your Mamae took a lesson from you, maybe then I wouldn’t punish her as often as I do.”
“Is Mamae okay?” I asked in a whisper, hoping the question didn’t anger him further. The way he was acting, I was afraid he had done something to her and the baby.
“She is fine. I sent her off the doula this morning. My son is being born tonight.” Relief for my mother and the baby filled me. We didn’t know if it was really a boy, but my stepfather had claimed it to be a boy since my mother announced she was pregnant.
At first, he’d been angry, but after beating her senseless and the baby itself to be strong, her beatings had become less frequent and never lasted long. He’d always been careful to avoid her midsection and stopped pushing her into things.
“Come here,” he told me, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward. I walked toward him. His hands movde to his belt, unbuckling it slowly. I cringed inwardly. As much as he liked using his fists, he liked whipping me with his belt above all else. Except, he didn’t stop there, and my stomach dropped as the sound of his zipper echoed throughout the room.
The door behind me slammed open, and Paolo stepped across the threshold. My stepfather shifted, covering himself from my brother.
I used the distraction to spin on my heels and flee out of the door Paolo had come through, ignoring my stepfather as he yelled for me to come back.
“How are you here?” I ask, pushing the memories of what happened that night back into the little black box I’ve kept it hidden in.
“For someone who claimed to be smart, you are proving to be quite the opposite.” He presses a button on the elaborate remote in his hand. I recognize it as the same one Mirabelle was using last night when she brought me into this cage.
The door opens, and Mirabella walks into the room. Her eyes are downcast, and she crosses the room and kneels beside him. She places her hands on her thighs and waits.
“You know Mirabelle, I’m sure. We don’t need introductions, I don’t think.” He reaches out to pet her like a dog, patting her gently on top of her head. “Then again, my sweet pet here doesn’t really know who you are, does she, Penelope?”
“I don’t even know who you are,” I retort, but I sense I’m still missing something. His eyes narrow on me.
“What? Am I not good enough to call Papai any longer?” He lifts an eyebrow, daring me to argue with him. I see Mirabelle tense beside him. “Can you believe how my own daughter disrespects me, pet?”
“I’m not your daughter.”
“Shut up,” Mirabelle hisses. “You will not speak to the master with such disrespect.”
“It’s okay, pet. She doesn’t know any better. Yet. Her mother was always too soft on her.” He caresses her face before turning his attention back to me. “I’m finding this little reunion to be slightly ironic. Aren’t you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I exclaim. He’s talking in riddles, and he’s not acting like the man I grew up being afraid of. He looks back down to Mirabelle.
“Imagine my surprise, sweet pet, when I sold this ungrateful chit into the world I controlled, that she would once again belong to me.”
“I belong to no one, least of all you,” I spit, feeling venomous. The young girl he enjoyed torturing is gone. Thanks to love, I’ll never be that frightened little girl again.
“Would you look at all that fire?” He sounds almost breathless, and his dark black eyes glitter, reminding me of the night I’ve done everything in my power to forget. “It seems you owe me gratitude. The woman, the fire burning inside of you, the fight itching to burst out from beneath your skin, all thanks to me.”
“Fuck you. It has nothing to do with you.”
He chuckles, “Oh, but it does. You can thank me later for it, when you figure it out.”
“I’d rather die.”
“Penelope, consider this your warning. This life is not yours to decide. It never has been, and it will never be.” His amusement turns cold, and he leans forward. “You will die, little one, but not until I tell you to draw your last breath.”
He leans back, looking satisfied, but I know better. This is kindness compared to what he is capable of. He has something up his sleeve. Something that could possibly destroy me.
“Pet, get her ready for me.” He manages to stand from his seat on the other side of the glass, but he leans heavily onto the cane to his right. I catch sight of his leg for the first time since coming to. It’s twisted in a way he shouldn’t be able to stand on it comfortably.
Maybe I can use his weakness to my advantage.
The thought echoes through my head, but I will have to get close to him, close enough to do something about it.
Think, Penny, think.
Chapter 42
Mirabelle
“Ready me for what?” Penelope asks. Gone is the confidence she displayed to my master. Instead, she gazes at me wild-eyed and worried. She should be worried.
“For the master,” I reply casually. Why should I tell her anything more? She deserves what is coming. They all do.
“Why are you doing this?” she whimpers. I look at her and see red. How can she not know?
This stupid girl who has every man eating from the palm of
her hand looks at me like a hurt puppy.
One I want to kick.
Hard.
Until there is nothing left of her.
“Revenge.” I half expect her to ask what for, but she doesn’t. She doesn’t say anything at all. “He killed my husband.”
She looks at me with her crystal-blue eyes and still says nothing. I want to lash out and hit her for acting so cold toward my reasoning. Her lack of response proves how cold her heart truly is.
Then again, she doesn’t know what love and true devotion are. I doubt she’s ever heard the words directed toward her, and she never will. As long as I have a say in it.
Tony hasn’t told her about his feelings for her, and I know this because I hacked into their security system weeks ago, and I’ve been watching their every moment. Despite the way he looks at her when she isn’t paying attention, she has no idea the depths of his love for her. It’s satisfying to know she’ll die never knowing it either, and he’ll die never being able to say the words to her.
Just as it should be.
“Did you know he was my stepfather?” Of all the things she can talk about, she wants to know about him. The man I hate and love at the same time. The man I thought I’d escaped, but it turns out all I did was trade one master in for another.
Brock wasn’t cruel like Charles, though. Brock loved me even though he held the key to my freedom. He promised to one day to set me free. I wanted to believe him. Even though he was better than Charles, men don’t give away their favorite toys easily. He died in my arms, choking on his own blood, never saying the words I longed to hear.
He promised to protect me with his last breath, but he didn’t. All his last breath did was transfer ownership back to the first and only man who’s truly ever owned me. Charles.
How he escaped the compound that day, I’ve never been able to figure out. When Brock and I parted ways with Armando and Charles, they were headed to the portion of the compound destroyed in the second blast. They called it the cattle room. It’s where they kept the girls. Armando wanted to show the lot off, since he was proud of what his man Tony accomplished.
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