by Aden Lowe
Royse approached with two glasses half filled with amber liquid and placed them on the little table between the chairs. He shrugged out of his suit jacket and tossed it negligently on the floor, loosened his tie, and sat and lifted his own glass.
"I apologize. I didn't know what you like, so I stocked my own favorites in the bar. I hope Lagavulin is acceptable."
Afraid of angering him, I took the glass and brought it to my lips. The strong liquor burned all the way down, but in a nice way. "This is good."
He sighed with what seemed like relief. "I'm so glad. I was worried." He took another sip from his glass. "Now, shall we get to business?"
"Please." I had no idea what else to say, and that seemed like a safer conversation than the La-la land he held me in from the moment he came into mom's room downstairs.
"You'll have to forgive me. I know this seems sudden, and I remind myself you had no idea of my feelings. Of course, if you had, you wouldn't have tried to leave me."
Whaaa…? My jaw dropped and I snapped my mouth closed. It seemed safer to stay silent, so that's what I did.
"But that's behind us now. You're back, and you won't try to leave me again. In fact, it's a good thing you forced my hand, and brought us out of the limbo we've been in since our first time together." He paused for another drink. "It brought me to my senses. I've been busy while you were away. First, I had your mother brought here and found her a doctor." He paused again, watching me.
"Thank you, she seems much better." What the fuck else could I say? The man had clearly lost his mind and instinct warned I had better play nice.
He smiled. "She was so happy to learn you and she would be living here with me from now on." The empty glass made a hollow sound as he set it back on the table. To my complete and utter confusion, he slid from his chair and got to one knee in front of me.
I drew back. This had gone entirely far enough. "Royse, I don't know what you want from me."
He held up a little black box with a smile. "Marry me, Elena. Be my queen. You'll never want for anything." He flipped the lid of the box back to reveal the biggest damn rock I'd ever seen on a ring. "Just say yes."
Oh FUCK! I was in big trouble. The funny part was, this little voice in my head screamed for me to say yes and take his ring. He might be a low-life crazy bastard, but he was offering me what every woman wanted—the fairy-tale ending.
My nerve endings jangled with warning. Piss him off and I would die in the next instant. I had to play along. "I…I don't know what to say. Royse, we don’t even know each other."
This sappy grin plastered itself across his face. "I know everything I need to about you. Anything you'd like to know about me, just ask."
I drew a deep breath, trying to think how the heroine in some old movie might handle the situation. "This is a big step. Can I have some time to think?"
"Of course, my dear." He rose from the floor and put the ring box on the center of the mantle. "Take all the time you need. I can't say I'm not disappointed you didn't leap into my arms and scream yes, but I understand. This would mean a big change for you." He refilled his glass and sat once more.
I sat there, like a bump on a log, at a total loss for how to respond. The logical part of me wanted to insist he return to reality and tell me what the fuck he was trying to do. The little girl part of me nearly fell for his charade. And the smart part of me was scared to fucking death. This bastard had gone way off the deep end, and if I wasn't careful, he would drown me.
Ryker. I needed to get to Ryker. He would be able to help.
I stood. "I'm really tired. It's been a long evening. I should go home and get some rest."
Royse stood, too. "How inconsiderate of me. I should have realized, my dear. Of course, you're exhausted." He picked up his jacket. "You'll find everything you need, right through there. I'll be here at quarter of nine in the morning to take you down to breakfast."
My mouth threatened to fall open again. "I can't stay. I wouldn't want to be a burden." My mind scrambled to come up with something that wouldn't set him off. "Besides, I need to feed my cat."
A look of confusion crossed his face. "Your cat? You don't have a cat."
I thought fast, searching for a way out of the lie. "Well, no, not really. It's just a stray I feed, but it depends on me."
His expression cleared. "Oh, I understand. What does the cat look like?"
I shrug a little. "He's just a little tabby."
He nodded. "Okay. While you get settled here, I'll have someone go pick him up and bring him here to you." He smiled, pleased with his solution.
My heart pounded. I had to get out of here so I could go to Ryker for help. "He won't let anyone touch him but me. I'll have to go get him." There. That should do it.
He shook his head. "It's too late. I don't want you out at this hour. I'll send someone to put food out for him, then after breakfast, I'll take you to pick him up myself."
Fuck. If I argued the point any further, he would get suspicious and snap. "Okay, thank you."
He smiled and leaned in to kiss my cheek. "Have a lovely rest, my dear. I'll see you in the morning. You'll find clothing and everything in the dressing room."
He left and I collapsed back into the chair, shaking like a leaf. What. The. Fuck.
If anyone had ever suggested my life would take this kind of a turn, I would have laughed my ass off. This place, Royse… it was all like the fucking twilight zone. I kept expecting the creepy music to start.
No matter what, when he took me to get my imaginary cat, I had to find a way to get in touch with Ryker and let him know what was going on.
My stomach churned with horror. Except he wouldn't care. I'd ditched him at the first opportunity, and shoved his help away. But not until after I put him in danger. I was a fucking idiot.
Chapter Nineteen
Ryker:
I finally dragged my ass out of bed, feeling like I hadn't slept in days. A hot shower and some ice helped though. While I was doing all that, and eating breakfast, I refused to let my mind go to anything related to Elena. It took every ounce of the discipline I used in training and fighting, but I managed it. I even took the time to clean up after myself and get dressed.
The instant the .45 found its comfy spot in the holster inside the waist of my jeans, I grabbed my phone and hit Stella's number.
"Took your ass long enough, brother."
"You sound like you expected me to call, or something." Bastard knew me too damn well.
"Trying to figure out why you didn't call hours ago, motherfucker. What the hell's wrong with you?"
I shrugged and switched hands with the phone. "Dunno, guess I'm a dumb fuck, or something."
"First step to recovery is admitting there's a problem. Now, how we going to solve yours?"
We tossed ideas back and forth for a few minutes without coming up with anything groundbreaking. Finally, we decided to take another look at Royse's building. Maybe we'd find some secret there.
A half hour later, we sat in my Chevelle at the abandoned laundromat across the street, waiting as the city got on with its day. "You think she's still in there?" My mind raced with the possibilities. Royse could have killed her, or any number of other things by now. Why the hell had I been so stubborn?
Stella shrugged with his usual calm attitude. "No way of knowing for sure, unless we get someone inside, or we get eyes on her. For now, I guess we wait and see. I made a couple calls earlier, so maybe one of those ideas will pan out." He rolled his window down and lit a cigarette.
Any other time, I would bitch him out good for smoking in my car. At the moment, though, I didn't give a fuck. Way more important shit to consider.
Across the street, the blinds went up in one of the top floor windows, and a human form was briefly silhouetted against a light in the room, then disappeared. What could be on that floor? Living quarters, maybe? Offices? Fuck, for that matter, what did Royse even have in the building?
Stella's phone gave a soft
ding, indicating an incoming text. He read and quickly tapped out a reply. "Okay, got a little info from my girl downtown. Royse bought this building for a song, when it was ready to be demolished, and set about restoring it. From what she can find, he returned it to very near original condition. It was a high-end hotel in the nineteen-twenties. He has it zoned as a single-occupancy home now."
Impatience beat against my chest. "What good does that do us?" Hell, I already knew parts of that.
"Not a lot, yet. But we do know he probably lives there. And we know the joint is important to him, or he wouldn't have put the money into it."
I nodded. "Okay, that makes sense. Still don't see how we can use that to get Elena back."
"Just hold on, brother. Matter of putting the little pieces together and getting the big picture. This is just the first corner. We'll get more, and soon."
Fuck, I wished I had Stella's certainty. I couldn't be so sure, though, with fear eating me from the inside out. What if my stubborn child bullshit had gotten Elena killed? Hell, I might never even know if she lived or died. My breath stuck in my throat, and I rolled the window down, trying to get some air.
"Hey, man, keep it together. We'll do everything we can to get her back." Stella gave my shoulder a slap that would have knocked me on my ass if I wasn't already sitting.
I nodded, more to convince myself than him. He could afford to sit there all calm and cool. His woman wasn't in the clutches of some asshole with delusions of grandeur, or whatever shit would cause him to dump millions into restoring a building like that. The thought clicked with something else in my head.
"Hey, Stella? What do we know about Royse's mental health?"
A cloud of smoke surrounded his head. "Not a great deal, why?"
"Just thinking. What kind of guy restores a building like that to the original condition unless he plans to make a lot more money off it than he puts in? Assuming he has no family ties to the building, anyway. I guess that would make a difference."
The cigarette butt went flying out the window. "I don't know, but we might be able to find out some stuff." He lit another smoke. "Now tell me what you're thinking."
I stared at Royse's building, putting it together out loud. "I'm not sure, but it seems to me the guy would have to be, I don't know, maybe obsessed with that period of history. The twenties was prohibition, gangsters, mob, all kinds of crime flourished. Underground fighting was a big thing. And prostitution. Bootleg booze. Guns. Street gangs. All of which we now know he's involved with. What if he imagines himself to be some modern-day Al Capone, or something?" I stopped and shook my head. "Never mind. It's too far-fetched."
Stella put a hand up. "Hold on. You might have something there. The fight posters. He has them printed to look like handbills from the twenties, or something. And the suits he wears all the time. I just figured he was too cheap to buy new, but they could be from that period, too." He nodded and pulled out his phone again, scrolled through his contacts, and sent off a long text.
"You got a way to find out?"
"Maybe. Got someone looking into it." Just like always, Stella kept his sources to himself.
I didn't mind, though, as long as it helped me get Elena back. Assuming she even wanted to come back to me, that is. What the fuck would I do if she didn't?
He nudged my arm. "Check that shit." He nodded to where a car pulled up in front of Royse's building.
I gave a low whistle. That was not just any car. A dark red 1930 Hudson Super Eight rolled to a stop, and a uniformed driver got out, spent a moment wiping the chrome of the headlamps. He stashed his rag, then opened the rear passenger door and stood waiting, hat in hand.
Stella and I slid down a little in our seats and kept watching. After a bit, the front door of the building opened, frosted glass and brass hardware gleaming, and a man in a black suit held it, also waiting.
A moment later, Royse came out with a woman on his arm. Her wide brimmed hat hid most of her face, but red hair showed clearly at her shoulders. She wore a pale-colored dress that dropped straight to her hips, concealing any hint of curves, then flared out a little and ended below her knees. Royse led her to the car, and she stopped for a second to take her hat off before climbing inside.
The flash of Elena's pale, terrified face sent my heart racing. Before I could straighten up and do anything about it, Royse got in after her and the car took off. I started the Chevelle and peeled out of the laundromat lot before it disappeared entirely.
I stayed back, trying not to alert the driver. When another car cut in front of me, I didn't push, just gladly used the buffer. Stella was on his phone, texting non-stop, but I didn't ask. I was too busy trying to keep my heart from jumping out of my chest.
At a four-way stop, a motorcycle idled, the driver busy with his cellphone, so he missed his turn to go. Royse's car went through, and the car behind him stopped. The bike turned and followed Royse.
"Okay, we can back off a little. That's our man on the bike."
Relief fought with my need to stop that Hudson, drag Elena out of it and kill Royse. The only thing truly stopping me was the knowledge that even if I took her back, we still had the issue of her mother. We had no idea where Royse had her, or if she was even still alive. So I hung back and bided my time.
That old car created quite a stir, driving through a rough part of town. The few people out so early stopped and gawked. The bike stopped at a shop, one of the few we'd seen still open, and an old beater car came out and took his place. I edged a little closer, but still didn't push. If Royse or his driver made us, Elena would be in more danger than she already was.
When Royse's car pulled over in front of a rundown apartment building, Stella's buddy in the beater went on by, and so did I, careful not to pay too much attention. I took the next right and parked next to a burned out church.
I didn't even have to ask. Stella got out and walked back toward where Royse had parked. I practically held my breath, staring at my phone, willing it to give me some kind of update. A smoke would have been good right about then, even if I didn't smoke. Anything to pass the fucking time.
After half an hour and no word, I gave up and went to the trunk to dig out an old baseball cap. With the hat pulled low, I strolled in the direction Stella had disappeared. He was nowhere in sight when I rounded the corner, so I kept walking.
Shrill sounds and shouted curses caught my attention, just in time to see Royse stumble from the alley beside the apartment building. He held something small and furious at arm's length, shouting directions to his driver.
The man hurried and dragged one of those plastic pet carrier crates from the back of the car and held it open. Royse tried and tried to thrust the squirming thing in his grip into the carrier, but it resisted strongly.
I got a little closer and just stopped, shaking my head. The fucker was trying to put a screeching, scratching, biting cat into the carrier, and it clearly had other ideas. Surely he hadn't just grabbed up some stray alley cat?
Stella crossed the street and approached Royse, speaking quietly, then helped him get the cat inside the crate and the door closed. Royse stood there, cursing and wiping blood, and occasionally replying to whatever Stella said.
After a moment, Stella laughed a little, leaned down to peer into the car and said something, then walked away with a half salute. I stepped behind the corner of a building, and waited. Stella gave me a slight nod as he passed without breaking stride, and I stayed put.
Royse's car went by, slow enough for me to get a good look at Elena's face. She wore a smile, but looked even more frightened than before. As soon as it was out of sight, I jogged back for the car to see what Stella had learned. I couldn't wait to hear what would make a bastard like Royse pick up a feral cat and try to rescue it. Didn't they usually use traps for that kind of thing?
Chapter Twenty
Elena:
I finally managed to breathe a little as the driver pulled away from my building. The whole time Royse was trying t
o catch an alley cat, I just knew he was going to kill me for mentioning a cat. He refused to let me out of the car to help, or I could have just pretended to give up.
And then I saw Juaquin watching from the stairwell door. He recognized me, and started toward the car with a big grin. Thank God he saw me shaking my head and went back before Royse spotted him. Those two meeting would not go well.
When Ryker's friend, Stella, came over and helped get the damn cat in the cage, I thought I would die. But Royse climbed in the car after Stella leaned down to wave at me, and we left. I nearly choked to keep from laughing at all the blood dripping from Royse's hands. I had to look away.
Ryker. Right there in plain sight. My stomach threatened to get rid of the fancy breakfast Royse made me eat. If he got caught, we would both die. I found that out earlier when one of Royse's men came in during the breakfast thing, and reported they still hadn't found Ryker. One of the fancy china plates flew against the wall, shattering, as Royse screamed for them to bring him Ryker's head. The entire morning left me even more terrified of Royse than before.
Behind the seat, the cat yowled and hissed, pitching a fit about everything. Royse leaned to look at it, still trying to stop the bleeding from his bites and scratches. "My dear, I do hope this cat settles down. I would hate to have to kill it."
My stomach did the threatening thing again. I couldn't let him kill the poor thing. "I told you, he doesn't like people. We should have just left him there, where he's used to being. I could ask the neighbor to put food out." My heart pounded in fear of his reaction.
So far, Royse hadn't showed any signs of violence against me, but that didn't mean shit. He nodded, calm as could be. "Yes, my dear, we probably should have. But I want you to be happy in your new home. If a stray cat helps, then you'll have your cat."