Twist My Heart (Wicked Games Book 1)

by Brooke Taylor

  “The Tahoe’s out of sight,” a woman’s voice said. Arching my eyes as far as they could go without visibly turning my head, I watched her sit down in a chair with her back to me. Blonde hair, but the strand of red peeking out let me know it was a wig. Then I caught sight of the tattoo. Aimee.

  Seeing her shouldn’t have given me relief, especially considering her association with Clay and the Jane Doe. But even if she wasn’t on my side, at least I wasn’t alone with Clay. For some stupid reason it gave me hope for us both. Because, lord knows, if she was tangled up with Clay and this cult she needed help to survive as much as I did.

  He jabbed the air as if firing a gun at the television, but the only noise was the sudden muffled voices of the people on the screen. Thankfully his attention was consumed by whatever the person on the phone was relaying, allowing me to take a quick assessment of my body. I was in pain, in the same places as I’d been from the tornado, as well as some new ones. Nothing fatal, nothing broken, but I couldn’t really move enough to fully test the assumptions. My hands were bound, behind my back this time. My ankles as well. My phone… I remembered it sliding to the floor as the car careened off the mountain roadway. My heart shattered. I had no way to get in touch with Nik now.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Clay wheeled from the television. His eyes bored hard at Thea’s lifeless body, certain he’d caught her move. Just in case, he landed a swift kick into her side. She rolled like a sack of potatoes. Nothing.

  Sera’s voice burned through his cell phone. “This is insanity! They cut my segment! Stuffed me into the green room! Are you even watching this?”

  He punched the volume up a couple more notches. “I’ve got it on now,” he grunted. Another coughing fit seized him, his throat still dry and scratchy from Thea strangling him. He grabbed a bottle of water from the dresser, unable to manage more than a few sips at first.

  Michael “Mad Dog” Maddox’s darkened studio appeared on the screen. The camera panned the iconic set. Lights dimmed as the crew rushed about with last-minute prepping for the next segment. Sure enough, instead of Sera sitting at the renowned interviewer’s large desk, there was a sun-leathered country bumpkin with her gray hair pulled back into a ponytail more suited to a teenager.

  Maddox’s identifiably deep voice filled the small cabin, competing with Sera’s irrational anger for Clay’s attention. He lowered the phone from his ear so he could hear the TV.

  “The FBI has been instrumental in cracking down on human trafficking and sex trade industries, as we’ve shown in prior episodes. You’re here to say differently. And who are you?” Maddox asked his elderly guest.

  “I’m not anyone and I’m not here to say nuthin’. The only reason I’m sittin’ across from you is because the little lady who does have somethin’ to say can’t be here.”

  “Well, you got my producer’s attention. What do you have that will get mine?”

  The woman lifted a cell phone from the desk, flashing its screen at Maddox. He made a show of putting on his ever-present reading glasses and taking it from her. After a quick look, he turned the screen to the woman as the camera directly behind her picked up the shot.

  “Please, read what it says for our viewers.”

  If I’m reported dead or missing, please do not go to the police or the FBI. Take my phone to Michael Maddox and insist the video be played live on his show as soon as possible. Use my badge for credibility.

  “Cursed brat,” Sera shrieked. “Just like her to get one last spar in.”

  Clay kept his focus on the television and Maddox.

  “Does your being here on my show mean what I think it does?”

  The woman solemnly nodded. “The girl who this phone belongs to is dead. The video on here is relaying her last words.”

  “Did you know her?”

  “No, sir. I don’t know her from Adam.”

  Maddox reclined back in his chair as he assumed his signature pensive posture. “How then were you entrusted with such highly confidential information?”

  “Well, now, that’s a very good question. I’d been helpin’ a friend sort some cows out for the day and had come back home to unload the horses. There, pillowed in the shavings right between their hooves, was a phone and an FBI badge. I sure as heck didn’t drop ‘em and neither did ol’ Marvel or Sylvester.”

  “Couldn’t have been an accident?”

  “Not likely. I was the only person who loaded or unloaded the horses and I would’ve noticed somethin’ so outta place. They had to ‘ave been put there when I stopped for gas in Goodland. Anyhow, I pressed a few buttons on the phone to see if’n I could figure out who it belonged to and the screen immediately went to that there note.”

  “And now you’re here, hundreds of miles from Kansas, all because you found a phone with a note? You didn’t think maybe this was a prank?”

  “Yes. Well, I didn’t know what to believe, but a couple of days pass and sure as shootin’, the girl on the video, Miss Thea Gale, pops up in the Colby Free Press as deceased in the tornado. So I was pretty spooked, but I didn’t know who Michael Maddox was or where in tarnation to find his so-called show.”

  Ol’ Mad Dog laughed, as if delightfully amused this plucky field mouse of a woman didn’t know he was only the most popular hardball interviewer on television. “I’m glad you found me.”

  “Well, ‘twasn’t hard to find ya, but it’d sure ‘ave been easier to bathe a bobcat than it was to get any of yer people to listen to me. Thank goodness Miss Gale left me her badge or they never would’ve believed me. By the end of it, my feathers were as ruffled as a hen in a hurricane. But here I am and the only reason is because I watched that there video of Miss Gale’s. Poor child runnin’ for her life. Not from the twister, mind you, but a fellow FBI agent who’d she’d discovered was involved in sex trafficking. She wanted the truth out and she knew this man, Clayton Kenyon, was bound and determined to stop her, even kill her. So, Michael, I had no choice but to come find you so she didn’t die in vain.”

  Chagrin lighted Maddox’s eyes at her calling him by his first name, making him flash his trademark bemused smirk. “Sounds like you’re her guardian angel.”

  “Naw, I’m just an ol’ horse lady from Kansas who wants to put a stop to the same things Thea Gale gave her life to. Even if’n it is our own government employees who’s doin’ it.”

  “I’m curious to see this mysterious video which moved you to go to such great lengths,” Maddox said as the camera zoomed up on the cell phone. “How about we take a look?”

  Even Sera’s blustering in the background had grown silent as the live show unfolded, revealing Thea. She looked into her phone’s camera with her blonde hair in braids, behind the wheel of her father’s old pickup, spilling her guts as she raced through traffic.

  “I’m ditching this phone along with my credentials in the hopes Clay’ll no longer be able to track me, but if not these will probably be my last words and I will not take his secrets to the grave with me.”

  Conviction poured from her lips as she relayed how she’d gained Clay’s trust so she could feed him false details about contacting and communicating with potential sex traffickers. Using alternate accounts via a personal computer she’d been able to draw him and his associate out for an in-person meeting. She then gave details of where chat logs and video evidence could be obtained for evidence. Clay had realized the meeting had been a setup and they’d run.

  Clay’s heart raced as he waited for Thea to reveal his associate’s identity, sealing his fate for good. It continued to thump hard even when she didn’t.

  Maybe Thea hadn’t checked the ID in the wallet Sera had dropped in their escape. By the time she’d gone to her safe-deposit box and had switched cars to her father’s old truck, Clay had already taken Titan to Animal Control. She’d been running hard ever since.

  It wasn’t a stretch for Clay to envision how viewers would see Thea, how his colleagues would believe her. No doubt they were already s
crambling into position to investigate all her claims. They had no choice, seeing as how the bitch had gone public with everything. Add in that Todd Coleman was already tipped off to God knows what else. Clay’s career with the FBI was fucked. Thoroughly.

  When Thea was done blabbing everything she had on him, she stared into the camera and said, “Mandy, my only regret in this life will be dying before I found you.”

  It didn’t escape Clay how close she’d come. But he’d make sure she’d never get any closer to the truth. He’d tease her and mislead her the way she had him. So much anger boiled inside of him at Thea’s going public with her accusations. She’d played him for a fool. All of his leverage had now been rendered useless.

  “Couldn’t heed my warning, eh?” Sera shrieked into Clay’s cell loud enough Maddox could probably hear her out on set. “Thought you could send her to hell and she wouldn’t drag us all along? I warned you she’d be trouble. Trouble is all she is, even from the grave.”

  “Thea’s not dead.” Then Clay quickly added, “I have her here with me.” As if this might appease Sera. Perhaps impress her. Remind her he wasn’t the fuck-up she believed him to be.

  “She’s…still…alive?” The words slowly raked across her tongue, her ranting momentarily stalled.

  Another coughing fit broke through. Before Clay could swallow down the swig of water he’d taken and respond, she’d gathered her wits and her anger back.

  “Exactly who died in the tornado, then?”

  “Aimee. Look, I had to say the body was Thea’s. I couldn’t have Aimee’s identity coming out with an autopsy. They’d tie her original disappearance to her tattoo and brand…link it all back to you.”

  Sera didn’t respond. Her silence had a sharper spear to it than her tantrums. But it was what she finally said that cut him deepest of all. “You wanted her all to yourself with no rules, didn’t you? You’re obsessed with her. You always have been. Tell me, Clay, how many times have you wished it’d been her that night?”

  He had a gut-churning feeling Sera already knew the answer. With a measured breath, he reminded her, “Holding back isn’t in either of our natures, Sera. And I’m tired of living with so many rules.”

  “So many,” she taunted. “Don’t be so obsessed with her as to be careless, Clay. You still have my Phoenix with you. I haven’t begun to prepare Savanah for that side of the Ring.”

  Clay flicked his eyes to Aimee. Savanah had been her moniker since becoming a Phoenix, and typically it would’ve been years before she’d become one of the Six. But it really didn’t take time. It took death. He could kowtow to Sera, then easily squelch the wrath of the falsely risen redhead when she discovered the fire ritual and Sera’s approval had all been a lie. But he was done with Sera’s blustering every time he made a decision without her.

  Who was she to make all the choices? All the rules? They were supposed to be a partnership, not a dictatorship. At least, he’d always been assured they were. “Savanah has done valiantly taking Aimee’s place. She was more than ready for her rise.”

  “She’s risen without my approval?” Sera hooted. “Soon she’ll be six feet underground with or without her magister.”

  The world and everything in it slammed to a stop at Sera’s terse threat. Perhaps now hadn’t been the time to deal with Sera’s petty control-freak tendencies. Her threats were real enough and it wasn’t like he had any allegiance to this Aimee.

  “Don’t worry, she won’t make it out of this cabin alive.” Clay’s eyes went to Thea. No need tipping Aimee off to Sera’s blistering death sentence when both girls would be dead soon enough.

  Sera knew better than to misread his ambiguity. “Bury Savanah and bring Thea to me, alive, or never return again!”

  “I will fix this.”

  “You can’t fix anything! You’re useless! Bring her to me!”

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Sera’s verbal assaults continued on repeat after Clay hung up the phone. The endless string replaying in his head sounded all too similar to the ones his father used to lash at him. Eventually the stinging, whipped words became a crash of white noise burying Clay in a wash of long-stifled memories.

  The sound of the water filling a thermos, the crinkle of the lunch sack as his father rolled the top down, the smell of freshly plowed earth between Nanny’s farmhouse and the old hunter’s shed.

  His father’s returns from the shed came with glassy gazes and angry decrees not to look at him. If eyes weren’t averted fast enough than fists would do a fine job of shutting them quickly. Clay suspected the ol’ man had alcohol stashed there. Nanny’s strict religious code frowned upon its use to the point she’d abolished it from the house. Clay had snuck out to the shed, hoping to find the reason for the ol’ man’s hatred and violence was because he was a drunk.

  Peeking through the shed’s dirty windows, Clay didn’t see any booze or even cigarettes. What he saw was far, far worse.

  Margaret Ann Miller, the little girl who’d gone missing a few weeks before.

  Clay remembered seeing her and her blonde friend at the fair a couple months earlier. ‘Isn’t she one of those Gale girls?’ his father asked, referring to the blonde one. ‘Why don’t you go out with her big sister? Seems like she says yes to a lot of boys your age. Invite them to dinner. If Amanda says yes to you, I’ll keep an eye on the little one,’ he’d joked with a harsh laugh. At the time, Clay had assumed his father had been laughing at the unlikelihood of Clay going out with a girl like Amanda Gale. It wasn’t the first time the ol’ man had insinuated Clay had been too slow to start acting like other boys his age. And so he’d pursued Mandy to make his father proud. Surprisingly, she actually liked him, understood him. She comforted him. Told him that his father’s anger wasn’t because of Clay at all, but a sign of his father’s own sins and weaknesses. And upon learning the terrible secret his father had locked in the hunting shed, Clay believed her.

  He knew he had to help his father rid himself of his sin. When his father slipped out of the cabin, Clay snuck in.

  He wasn’t proud of what he’d done. He’d become…a sinner. A killer. A monster, like his father. But it was done.

  Clay had watched the ol’ man bury her body deeper into the woods, never even suspecting the death had been at his pathetic son’s weak hands and not his own. With the sin buried, it would be over. No more beatings and anger. No more monster.

  Except it hadn’t been over. For Clay it had only been the beginning of his own sin.

  Clay’s focus came back to the present, his eyes landing on Thea’s lifeless body.

  It was supposed to have been her all those years ago. Maggie’s little friend, the one who’d initially attracted his father’s eye. The one his father had wanted but never had. And now here she was lying on the cabin floor at his feet, ripe to pick.

  * * * *

  I’d fought the pain from Clay’s kick to my already tender ribs. But as it had started to subside, he grasped the collar of my shirt. With a hard, strangling twist, he jerked me semi-upright. His palm exploded into my cheek. “Wake up!”

  A pained noise ripped from my throat on the second slap. Playing possum no longer an option, my eyes popped opened on the third.

  My gaze shot to Aimee’s, seeking her compassion and finding only stone.

  “Don’t look at her. Look at me.” Hard ice chilled his voice, but I didn’t comply. He wanted my fear. I wouldn’t feed it to him. Keeping him irritated, on edge… Son of a bitch… Slap four had a sting in it the others hadn’t.

  Warm blood pooled on my tongue. It was a wonder my teeth weren’t rattling around my mouth. I fought for breath as I turned my eyes to his, keeping them blank. Clay’s violence wasn’t about him. It was about me—what he could make me feel, make me do. My fighting him off had aroused him. In the car, I’d caught the twirl of light in his pale eyes, the surge of his energy. He didn’t simply enjoy my terror. He needed it.

  Clay’s threats from the Subaru rang through my mind, hi
s voice so rich with hunger I fully believed he didn’t merely intend to make good on them, he had to. He and I had history, one I still didn’t understand or remember. But our lives were entwined in such a way that it required one of us to die in order for the other to survive.

  While I shared the Thea-he’d-known’s body and was starting to learn who she was, I wasn’t who he really wanted to bleed for him anymore. I knew slap five would be a doozy, but with a smug grin, I said, “You’re never going to have her.”

  “I don’t want her!” he bellowed as his face morphed with rage. His fists balled at his sides, but he didn’t deliver another blow. “It was you, Thea.”

  “Thea’s gone, Clay. I don’t remember her. I don’t remember you. I don’t remember Amanda. None of it.”

  “You’re lying! You’re a fucking liar. Just like you’ve lied to me this whole time.”

  “Clay, you’re not listening. The Thea you knew is gone.”

  “You’re a clever agent, but I’m not stupid.” He shook off his frustration and resumed the little speech he seemed compelled to give me. “It must’ve been hard for you to stomach working with me, getting close to me, lying to me. Was Mandy really worth it? She was special, but you, Thea…your eyes…they look exactly the same right now. How intently they watched me with your sister, how could I ever forget them? So fucking beautiful, filled with horror and sadness when I dragged her out of the window.”

  Clay took Mandy?

  He laughed at my horror. “That’s what your rogue investigating was really about, wasn’t it? You should’ve just asked me where she was. I would’ve told you. I would’ve done anything for you. But instead you stumbled on something else, didn’t you? Something you now have die for.”

  Desire to find Mandy, to rescue her, rose up fiercely inside me, reminding me of his words back at the car crash. “Where is she?”

  “Come with me and see for yourself. She’s been waiting a long time to be with you, Thea.”