by D. B. James
“Why tell me now?” It’s the only thing I can think of to ask—hell, it’s the only words I can manage. I’m shocked. I shouldn’t be, but I am. The reason Rhys ended up tied up in this operation was because of Vinny’s death, and to think I’ve known the answer deep down all along. I’m looking at a man who killed his own son, all for doing what I’m doing now—working with the FBI.
“Because you asked, and you’re leaving, and I figured it was about time I told you the truth.”
It hurts more than I thought it would, knowing this information. I hope he has a spot reserved in hell; it’s the only place pleasant enough for a man like him. Everyone thought Smith was a monster, but I’m staring at evil incarnate, a true monster in the flesh.
Placing my elbows on my knees, I drop my head into my hands. To hear him say the words? Heartbreaking. He killed my half-brother, his own flesh and blood, his son. Doesn’t he feel like scum? How can he sleep at night? What type of person does this?
“Why couldn’t you have hidden him and claimed he disappeared without your knowledge? What makes you kill your own son? Do you know how much of a monster it makes you? I’ve never been happier to be leaving this operation. If you could kill him, you could kill me.” My words come out a bit muffled, as I’ve yet to remove my hands from my face.
“Of course I feel like shit. I’m disgusted with myself. Why do you think I’ve been pressing you harder to stay? I lost one son; I don’t want to lose another.”
“You killed one son!” I scream. “You could kill me, but you think I would want to stay. Are you insane?”
“No, I’m desperate, Brant. I know the only way I can keep you in my life is to threaten those you love. Do you think I enjoy issuing threats? Do you think I like knowing I have to do this in order to see you? Fuck no, I don’t. I hate having to threaten my own son to stay in my life. I wish you loved me, then I wouldn’t have to do the things I do.”
Love? He wants me to love him? He’s nuttier than I thought.
“I could never love a monster like you.” With those words, I stand and walk out of his office. I’ve never been happier than I am in this moment, knowing he’s going to rot in prison for the rest of his natural life.
TESSA
The waves of the ocean bring me peace; they always have. But, after a week of nothing but waves, I’m going stir crazy.
Don’t get me wrong, these sugar sand beaches of the Alabama coast are stunning, but I want to do anything else, like go to a salon or explore the neighboring towns. Rhys has to be going crazy as well. It can’t only be us girls going nuts.
“Rhys?” I ask.
“Hm?”
“If I find a decent salon nearby, will you take us?”
“Yes, please,” Av seconds from her lounge chair beside me.
Tossing his book into the sand, he flicks his sunglasses up and glares at me, as if my suggestion is an awful one. Pfft, whatever.
“I guess it’d be okay,” he concedes.
“Wahoo! Let’s get to researching, Tess—we have appointments to make. I need my hair trimmed desperately.”
“I’m thinking about dying mine, maybe adding some blue lowlights,” I say.
“Blue? Yeah, you should totally do it. It’d look amazing on you with your coloring and eyes. I bet it’d make Brant go insane when he sees you.”
“He does seem to like my hair,” I mutter. He’s always finding ways to play with it, like when we’re cuddling on the couch and he runs his fingers through my tresses. I love it. It’s so relaxing after a long day at the store.
“Yeah, I think I may do it, either blue or a violet blue hue. I think either would look amazing with my black hair, and they’d both play up my eyes. I just feel…blah lately. Maybe changing my hair a bit will help.”
It’s a hard feeling to describe. I’ve had it since the day before Ace left to go back to San Diego. I’d say it’s dread, but I don’t think it’s quite as heavy as dread can be. It could purely be because he left. The quicker this whole thing is done, the sooner my life will be back on track—a slightly more curved track than before, but I’m pretty damn good at handling curves. Maybe I wasn’t in the beginning because I didn’t want to fall in love ever again, but he’s always brought me peace, even when we were fighting.
The long roads of our pasts have led us exactly where we’re meant to be.
Together.
We find a salon in a neighboring town, and luck is on our side when we’re able to make appointments for today.
“It’s in the town of Fairhope, maybe a thirty-minute drive. Since our appointments start at 2:00, we should leave around 1 to be safe,” I inform Rhys. “Maybe we’ll find a nice local joint to eat dinner at.”
It’d be better than another night stuck inside. I’m sick of watching Arrow and—gasp—The Vampire Diaries. A girl can only take so much Damon before getting bored. Turns out a constant week of both shows is my limit. I can’t look at Damon’s eyes without picturing Ace’s, which leads me to thinking about our first time having sex, and it snowballs from there. Before I know it, I’m excusing myself to go release some steam in the shower. It’s a never-ending cycle.
“If we find a place and it’s safe, we can eat out, sure,” Rhys says.
“Yes. I’m tired of cooking,” Av pipes up.
“You’ve cooked twice since we’ve been here,” I argue. “I’ve been doing the majority of kitchen duty. I’m surprised you two haven’t complained of food poisoning by now, especially since the disaster forever known as ‘hell fish night’.” Shivering at the thought, I change the subject. “What are you having done, Av? Just a trim?”
“Maybe I’ll indulge by getting a manicure or pedicure once we’re there. Otherwise, yeah, just a trim. I’ve never colored my hair—not like I could now, what with my pregnancy—but Rhys would kill me. He likes my hair too much. Believe me, getting it cut is enough of a battle. The big goof.” Her jabs are playful and make me miss Ace more.
“Dibs on the shower,” I say as I get up and jog toward the house. A note on the kitchen counter causes me to stop short. What the…? It wasn’t there when we went outside, and none of us has gone back inside yet; there wasn’t a reason to. Only one person knows where we are, and even he doesn’t know the exact address.
“Rhys?” I yell out the screen door, the panic evident in my voice.
He comes running, Av waddling as fast as she can behind him. They’re both through the door within seconds. Wow, for a pregnant woman, Av can book it.
“What is it?” Rhys asks.
Pointing over to the counter, I ask if either of them noticed the note before going outside. “It wasn’t there, at least not to my knowledge. I panicked and yelled for you straight away. I have no idea what it says.”
It could be nothing…or it could be everything.
Av walks over to me and wraps an arm around my shoulder, pulling me into her for a side hug. “We don’t know what it is yet, but whatever it is, we’re here with you, always,” she says comfortingly.
Rhys grabs the note and reads it aloud.
Theresa,
I see you.
I’m always watching.
You’re not his. You’re mine.
You promised forever.
You lied, and for that, you’ll pay.
He didn’t sign it, but he didn’t have to. I know who it’s from: Mick. He’s the only one who calls me Theresa. How in the hell did he manage to find me in Alabama? We’ve been smart. Our phones are off and left in Michigan. We’ve used burners for any communication. We used my iPad for internet, but the location has never been turned on. The damn thing is registered to Threads & Trends anyway, not to me.
“H-How?” I ask. “It’s not po-possible.” My voice is shaky, as are my legs.
Rhys springs into action, grabbing a burner and calling Brant.
Great, this is exactly how I pictured spending our Sunday—gripped in fear.
“Av, he’s going to kill me. It’s the only way
he can hurt me more than he ever has before. He’s going to kill me. You’re not safe. No one is.”
Without thinking, I run into the guest room and begin gathering my things. We have to leave, at least I do. I could flee to Mexico. Shit, no I can’t—my passport is at home. Maybe I could fly to a large city, get lost in the crowd. New York may work. My mind is on overdrive and I’m thinking like a crazy person, I know this, but I can’t stop myself. I try to recall how much is in my savings; I think I could live on the run for at least two years, if need be.
“Tess?” Rhys’s voice breaks through my scattered thoughts.
Turning, I look at him, but I don’t speak.
“Don’t panic. Brant gave me some intel on your ex, and we’re moving somewhere more secure. I’m sorry it means you’ll have to cancel on your girls’ day, but we better get going.”
“You think I care about getting my hair done?” I screech. “Fuck no. I’d rather take off alone and have you two safely away from me. In case you missed it, Av’s pregnant, and I’ve put her in more danger. She’s suffered enough in her life, as have you. It’s safer for you if we go our separate ways.”
Don’t they see? Being near me is toxic.
“I’m not leaving you. You’re family. Stop acting ridiculous and be ready in five,” he says as he walks away, like his word is final. I can still leave without them. I know where the keys to the truck are. To keep them safe, I’ll do anything, including running on my own.
Grabbing my suitcase, I run for the front door, grabbing the truck keys off the table in the entryway before opening the front door and sprinting to the truck. I don’t breathe until I’m backed out of the driveway and have the truck in drive.
I will keep them safe.
No matter the cost.
Chapter Fourteen
Brant
“She did what?” I yell.
How in the fuck did she get away from Rhys? Wasn’t he watching her the whole time?
Cherry’s gone. She’s MIA with no burner phone, and the only thing we know for sure is that Mick has followed them to Alabama. How, I haven’t a clue.
I guess he could’ve followed me to Michigan and laid low until I left. Maybe he thought Rhys was the easier match in strength. All I know is, I will find my Cherry.
It’s Sunday afternoon and technically I don’t need to be here when the FBI starts making arrests tomorrow, which is a damn good thing because I’m leaving, right this second. I’m getting to my girl as fast as I can.
“Listen, Rhys, I’m on my way. You have a GPS monitor in your truck, correct?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Great, call the company and put a trace on it. We need to find her.” Not finding her isn’t an option. She’s my air.
“Already on it. It’s the next call. I’ll have all the info sent to you as well. And, Brant?”
“Yeah?”
“Get here safe.”
“Will do, brother.”
Not wanting to waste one second, I dial Justin the second Rhys hangs up. He answers on the second ring.
“What’s up, cockmuncher?” he greets.
“Tessa is gone.” The words cause my heart to skip a beat. “Mick followed her to Alabama, left a note in their kitchen today. She freaked and fled. She’s gone, man.” My voice breaks on the last word.
“Martinelli gave you all the info he had on him, did he not?” he inquires.
“Yeah, he did. He also let it slip that he’d fired him.” It could be the straw that broke the camel’s back.
“Ah…so he could’ve easily followed you to Michigan without raising suspicion.”
“Looks like it. Can you meet me, like, now so I can give you the information I have on him and you can let someone in Alabama know?” I plead. “Maybe have an APB put out on him?”
Anything would be better than nothing. Unless he’s donned a disguise, he should be easy enough to spot, although he is typical looking, with nothing but a few tattoos to set him apart from the average Joe.
“Yeah, I’ll be to your room in two minutes.” He hangs up.
When I switched hotels, I moved to where Justin had checked in a few days prior to my leaving. He was staying with Tessa for a couple of days, but switched when she left town. It’s easier for when we need to share info like this. We’ve taken to meeting in public for all things Martinelli-related, but this? This is personal.
Tossing the few things I’ve unpacked into my bag, I’m ready before he knocks on the door. Opening it, I allow him entry.
“I’m not sure when the next flight to Mobile is, but I’ll be on it. I’m sorry I won’t be here for everything tomorrow. You know how badly I wanted to see cuffs on him, but she’s more important to me. She’s my everything. Here’s everything I was given on Mick. You can keep it; I’ve memorized it.”
Dropping the manila envelope into his hand, I reach for the door handle at the same time he puts his free hand on my shoulder.
“She’ll be okay, Brant. She’s a tough cookie. You’ll find her. Travel safe.”
Nodding, I leave the room, hoping what he said is true.
TESSA
It’s nearing midnight when I pull into Orlando. After stopping three times for gas and to use the restroom, I’m beat. Positive thing is, I didn’t notice anyone following me. That’s not to say he didn’t, though. We never noticed him following us on the long drive from Michigan to Alabama, and me not noticing him now could be a terrible thing as well.
Sighing, I park the truck near the lobby and run inside to see about a room. If they don’t have one, the hotel next door is bound to. I’m guessing, but it is Orlando, one of the top visitor destinations in the world. Mickey and pals are here, and Harry Potter, too.
If I weren’t running for my life, I’d visit the theme parks. Maybe someday.
“Welcome to the Marriott, do you have a reservation?” asks the clerk behind the front desk.
“No, I was hoping you had a vacancy.”
“We sure do. For how many nights?”
“Oh, only tonight.” Like I said, I’m running for my life and shit.
“Are you looking for a specific room?”
“Whatever’s available.”
While she’s looking, I hear the sliding glass doors open behind me. Please don’t be Mick, please don’t be Mick. It seems luck is on my side: it’s a nicely dressed man who looks nothing like Mick. He’s obviously not a guest though, since he’s standing behind me waiting for the clerk’s attention…unless he needs something sent to his room. Taking a deep breath, I attempt to calm myself down. Not everyone’s after you, Tessa.
“It looks like the only available room for tonight is a suite. Do you want to go ahead and book it?” she inquires.
“Sure, why not?” I ask, sarcasm evident in my voice.
“You don’t want the room, then?”
“Oh, no, I want the room. I was being sarcastic, sorry. How much?” She tells me the rate and my eyes nearly bug out of my head, but I continue to book the room; my rest for the night doesn’t have a price, and this hotel has security, which gives me peace of mind.
Walking out to the truck to re-park it and grab my suitcase, I’m nearly five hundred dollars poorer, for a suite in frickin’ Orlando, Florida. It’s not like I’m staying at a five-star resort in some foreign country.
Locking the truck, I palm the keys and make my way back inside and to the elevators. The nicely dressed man is still talking to the clerk. The security guard who was absent when I checked in is now back at his desk. All seems to be well. As I hit the up button to call the elevator, someone grabs my elbow.
“Shh…it’s me, Cherry.”
“Wh-What—how are you here?” I exclaim. Even if he’s known since the second I left, I doubt my driving time was less than a flight (or two) would’ve been.
“Actually, I ended up chartering a private jet. It wasn’t easy and I had to use Martinelli’s connections, but nothing else matters except the fact that I’m here and you�
��re safe.” The elevator arrives and Brant eases me inside with a touch of his hand upon my back. “You took about ten years off my life, Cherry. What the hell were you thinking taking off alone?”
“I was thinking of my friends’ safety. You hopping on a plane still doesn’t explain how you’re here, at my exact location.”
I may be relieved to see him, but I’m slightly peeved, too. It feels like an invasion of my privacy. If Brant could follow me precisely down to the address, what stops Mick from having the ability to do the same?
“Rhys has a GPS tracking system on his truck that kept us informed of your location. Since roughly an hour after you left, I’ve known exactly where you were down to the mile marker on the freeway, and before you freak out any further, no, Mick couldn’t have gotten this information. It was only available to Rhys because it’s his vehicle you stole.”
“Oh.” It makes sense.
“Oh? That’s all you have to say for yourself?” he asks.
The elevator bell pings, letting us know we’ve made it to my floor. Saved by the bell, again. It seems a bell dinging saves me from answering tough questions a lot. Maybe I should buy a bell and carry it with me to ring when I don’t feel like answering. It’s not a completely insane idea.
Neither one of us speaks while we walk toward my suite. He follows along a step behind me, and I can feel the steam radiating off his body. He’s pissed, rightly so. The second the door closes with a click behind us, he pulls me into his arms.
“Let me hold you for a minute before we argue some more,” he sighs into my ear, and I fall willingly into his embrace.