I look at Evan, who nods slightly.
“Give us a second,” Evan says.
The man steps away for a moment, no doubt to polish his fang.
“It’s fine,” I tell Evan.
I look at the letter in my hands.
I want to read what my grandmother’s last words to me were, know why she left everything to Grayson.
If no one else knows about this, then we are in no danger.
However, if Lauren or Elizabeth by chance knows what is going on, we are done.
I take a deep breath.
I open the envelope and take out my grandmother’s last words to me.
‘Box 1404’.
That’s all that’s written on the paper.
This was my grandmother’s bank.
Evan motions the banker back into the room.
The banker sits down.
I look down at the acceptance paper and sign it.
The banker smiles, briefly, and then takes the papers.
He blows on the ink to dry it.
Then, folding the papers carefully, he places them in a folio, puts them into a drawer, and then he sits back.
I look at him, and feel revulsion, for some unknown reason.
“Do you have a safety deposit box? 1404?” I ask.
“Oh, yes!” the banker nods.
“I need to see it,” I tell him sternly.
He waivers for a moment.
“I would have to see who’s box it is and if…”
“Now,” Evan demands, in a firm voice.
“Or should we take our business elsewhere?” Evan asks the bank manager.
This sobers him up so fast he almost runs out of his office and comes back with a key.
My heart is beating wildly out of my chest.
“This is highly unorthodox,” the bank manager says, as we take the elevator down to the safety deposit box room.
“Highly,” he exaggerates the word.
Evan gives him a look.
Evan thinks there is something going on.
I know him.
He stares at the bank manager.
“Now, please,” he growls.
“Of course! Anything for you, Mrs. Stone,” the manager says, trying to smooth things over.
“Right,” I reply casually.
My threat was an idle one, but apparently, he doesn’t know that.
I notice that the man’s name tag says Mr. Levin.
We walk from the elevator to a secured room.
Mr. Levin unlocks door after door, until we’ve reached a room with hundreds of old safety deposit boxes.
Row upon row of them.
There’s a stale smell in the air, and chills run across my spine.
“Are you alright, Mrs. Stone?” Mr. Levin asks.
“Fine,” I nod.
“You’re quite pale,” he insists.
I am not okay.
I have a feeling of dread.
Evan’s mood is getting to me.
“Just open it,” I answer.
I bite my lip.
He turns the key, and the long box slides out of its holding place.
It’s too clean.
There should be dust, or something, or anything.
It’s spotless.
With shaking hands, I flip it open.
There is one envelope.
Nothing else.
Suddenly, my hands are shaking, and I fight to tear it open.
Evan takes the envelope from my hands and freezes.
He doesn’t want to show it to me.
I know what it’s going to say, even before I read the words:
WE HAVE YOUR CHILDREN.
“Call the police,” I tell Mr. Levin.
38
Victoire
February 26, 2017
“Let me put the baby down,” I say softly.
“Go ahead,” Elizabeth says.
Her gun is pointed directly at my head, and as I stare down the barrel, I’m acutely aware that my life is about to end.
I take a few steps towards Landon’s crib and place the baby gently inside.
He’s still very much asleep.
Covertly, I manage to press the panic button in the crib, but I have no idea what that will do.
“Now, you sit down, and you let me take the children,” Elizabeth says coldly.
“Elizabeth you can’t!” I burst out.
“Do it!” she screams.
“Your father will die,” Elizabeth states coldly.
“Let him,” I hiss back at her.
“Really? You’d rather let dear old daddy die and save these two wretches?” she asks.
“They’re your grandchildren,” I remind her.
“Grandchildren or not, you’re in my way, Victoire,” Elizabeth sneers.
“Why would you do this?” I plead with her.
I try to stall.
“There’s no reason for me to tell you what my plans are,” she says plainly.
Then, a crazy thought occurs to me: I can take her.
I could totally take Elizabeth Darlington down!
One glance down at my purse, and the gun in there, and she’s momentarily distracted long enough for me to lunge at her.
We hit the soft carpet of the nursery at full force.
Elizabeth struggles against me, but I’ve got her pinned down so hard, she can’t move.
“You’re not going to win this time, Lizzie,” I hiss in her face.
Elizabeth uses all her weight and manages to throw me off balance.
We struggle, she rolls me over, and then I pin her to the ground again.
Where is the goddamn security!
They should be here!
“What’s going-” Lucius’ voice is suddenly in my ear.
I turn my head, distracted.
There’s a searing pain in my chest.
The wind is knocked of me, and I can’t breathe.
The pain is so hot and intense I realize I must have been shot.
“Make one more move, Lucius, and I shoot booth these children, now,” Elizabeth says sternly.
Lucius doesn’t move.
I look up at my half-brother, and for the first time in my life, I can see real fear in his face.
Fear for me.
I try to speak, but no sound comes out.
It’s harder to breathe.
He doesn’t move.
Lucius doesn’t move until Elizabeth is gone.
Even then, I can’t see her through the veil of tears.
“Vic!” Lucius screams.
But I can’t hear anything.
There’s a roaring in my ears.
This is how I’m going to die.
I can feel Lucius’ arms around me as he begins to apply pressure to the wound.
“Stop,” I tell him weakly.
“The pain!” I cry.
“Dammit, Vic! I’m not about to let you die!” Lucius screams so loud I can hear him.
“Lucius!” I cry out his name.
I begin to cry for real.
I’m afraid.
Afraid of losing Evan.
The babies!
“Vic! You have to listen to me! Don’t cry! I’m here, you’re not going to die, okay? you’re not!” he tells me in a calm voice.
I can’t see anything through the veil of tears.
39
Evan
February 26, 2017
Mr. Levin has called the police, but Ava and I have no choice.
I give the banker Noah’s number, and Lucius number, and tell him to keep calling them until one or the other answers.
I instruct him to tell the police to send emergency vehicles to the Manor.
Ava and I are fast-walking to the car, while I give these instructions to Mr. Levin, who can barely keep up.
“But, Mr. Stone! All of this is highly irregular! I must insist you wait for the police!” he whines.
Ava turns around and slugs Levin in the shoulder, stopping him cold.
“Look, you weasel! Do what he says! Now, or by God I will buy your fucking bank and burn it to the goddamned ground! With YOU in it!” she tells him.
She wheels about, her eyes wide with worry.
“Evan, how fast does your car go?” she asks.
“Not as fast as a chopper. Normally,” I tell her.
I grin, but behind it my mind is racing.
We take off and run as fast as we can for the car, Ava right behind me.
She kicks off her shoes, and runs alongside, until we are both in my car.
“Buckle up, buttercup!” I yell.
I don’t remember even starting it, but I am suddenly on the streets of London, ready to break every traffic law in the country to get to those children in time.
I peel out down the surface streets, the turbo in the 911 squealing as the wastegate dumps excess pressure to the manifold.
I run every red light I encounter, swerving between surprised drivers.
I can imagine I pick up every curse word in the dictionary, but I don’t care, as I race and shift the gears.
The fat tires grip the macadam tightly, and the car handles as if it is on rails.
“Hang on, Sis!” I say, as I take a hard turn onto the street, narrowly missing several astonished pedestrians.
They leap aside, and I see several making the sign of the cross, or raising their fists and yelling.
I smile, grimly.
Racing down the road, the car’s tach reaches 8,000 rpm’s, and I upshift into third.
The revs drop, but I push the accelerator until they climb back into the red, and then upshift twice.
The car hunkers down, and the cooling fin on the rear deploys.
The engine temperature lets me know the Porsche is just beginning to warm up.
I smile, a rictus of sheer concentration, as I work the shifter up and down the gate, taking each turn as fast as can.
The 911 is glued to the road surface, the tires barely noticing the forces to which they are being subjected.
I thank my stars that I decided on getting this car, and not a more fragile Lambo, or a Ferrari.
They’re great cars, but when it comes to optimal performance under actual road-racing conditions, nothing has beaten the 911 Turbo, in my experience.
Ava is pressed back in the seat, as I spool up the engine into the highest revs I can manage.
She uses the car phone to try to reach Noah, but his line is busy.
She tries Tinsely, and then the Duke.
All circuits are busy.
She stares at me, and I just nod, and put all my effort into making sure we don’t crash.
The oil pressure light blinks once, but I ignore it, throwing the car into a tight turn at almost 100 mph.
“Evan! Don’t kill us!” Ava shrieks.
I laugh, which seems odd to me under the conditions.
But, danger does this to me.
I’m back in Afghanistan, in Syria, in Libya…
The excitement and danger fuel my concentration; every detail is razor-sharp as I careen through the busy streets.
We grab the M5 and peel out at extralegal speeds.
I blow past a patrol car, and he takes off after us.
He lasts only three miles before giving up the chase.
I am certain he didn’t catch my license number.
But, there are the security cameras along the highway.
I dismiss them from my thoughts as the 911 hits 160 mph.
Ava’s eyes are closed, and she looks like she might be muttering a prayer.
Whether that’s for us, or her children, matters not as I become one with my car.
I’ve broken every traffic law in London, by the time we pull up to the gate of the Manor.
Coming into the Manor drive, I can see activity all over the grounds.
The main gate is wide open, so I shoot through it at breakneck speed, Ava closing her eyes as we pass onto the driveway.
I slide, and then correct the steering, and aim straight for the action.
We’re apparently too late.
There’s a fleet of emergency vehicles surrounding the Manor; cop cars, ambulances, firetrucks - the works.
But, I see that Noah got here first.
His Aston Martin is near the main portico.
Sliding around the drive, I push the Porsche as much as I dare.
I screech to a halt under some huge oak trees, the gravel flying as I stop.
Ava and I leap from the Porsche.
There are people everywhere, running around.
I see my father and Tinsley, under a tree.
Tinsley is partially reclined on a stretcher, breathing oxygen through a translucent green mask.
She sees Ava and starts to weep.
Ava runs up to her, and she hugs Ava.
“Where’s the babies?” she asks Tinsley.
Tinsley can’t seem to stop weeping long enough to speak.
My father is holding her hand, a worried look in his eyes.
“What happened?” I scream.
“Tinsley heard the shot, Evan. She hid until the police responders found her,” Noah explains.
“What shot?” I ask.
My father doesn’t answer.
He bows his head.
I grab his suit by the lapels, and shake him.
“What shot?” I scream.
“Dad, where are my children?” Ava pleads.
He motions with a slow hand towards the place where Corban is talking to an officer.
Corban has a forlorn look on his face.
The officer is on his radio and taking notes.
Ava sees them and runs straight for them.
Corban sees her, and runs to intercept her, meeting her halfway.
They chatter at each other, Corban animatedly pointing and gesturing.
He looks miserable.
Then, he says something to Ava, and I can see her shock.
I watch them speak for another moment when Ava collapses into her husband's arms.
Her screams are so loud I can hear her from where I am.
My heart clenches in terror and sadness.
I’ve never wanted to cry so much in my life, as my sister’s anguished screams fill my ears.
I will never forget the sound of her pain.
I turn back to my father and Tinsley.
The looks of horror on their faces are burned into my mind.
Tinsley begins to sob immediately into the mask.
“Just breathe, Tinsley, breathe,” my father says, softly.
“Where’s the security?” I ask.
There’s none of the highly trained, highly paid team in sight.
“All dead,” my father reports.
“Dead?” I gasp.
“What? How? Victoire!” I shout.
Noah grabs my hand, but I tear it away.
My eyes bulge out of my head, and suddenly I’m running for the house even though no less than three police officers try to stop me.
I shove them aside, like a linebacker, knocking them over like bowling pins.
“Wait! Evan!” I hear my father shouting at me.
“It’s not clear!” someone else screams at me.
I don’t care!
I need Vic!
I need the woman I love!
There’s no way that I could ever live with myself if anything happened to Vic.
I notice a body inside the doors.
One of the security team is down, his head surrounded by a massive pool of dark, red blood.
“Victoire!” I yell.
But, before I even reach the doors, two paramedics, a stretcher, and Lucius come out the front.
He’s at the front of the stretcher, holding the hand of a woman.
I see a flash of blonde hair smattered with blood.
It’s Victoire!
“Vic!” I scream.
Lucius doesn’t hear me, and so he’s going along with the paramedic team as they escort
them to the ambulance.
“You’re not going to die, Vic, okay, you’re not!” Lucius screams.
Vic is lying there, not moving, with an IV in one arm, and bloody blankets covering her torso.
My blood chills at the sight.
I remember Afghanistan…
I run beside Lucius, keeping pace, as we move away from the house.
“What happened?” I ask.
“Elizabeth shot her,” Lucius says.
“Vic, stay with us okay, just stay with us,” Lucius’ voice cracks.
“We’re losing her,” I hear one of the paramedics say.
I see Vic thrash her head side-to-side, moaning.
“Grayson! Landon! The babies!” she says, barely able to speak above a whisper.
“Vic! Listen to me!” I scream.
She sees me, and her eyes water.
She’s in a bad place.
I’ve seen this kind of injury before.
It’s very bad.
My balls shrink into my body.
Ice water crawls up my back, as I see the pallor of her skin.
Her face is gray, from the massive blood loss.
“Victoire!” I say.
I follow them towards the waiting ambulance and jump inside despite their protests.
I move to the side to stay out of the way.
Lucius mounts the steps to get in, but the paramedic stops him.
“Family only,” one paramedic says, and gestures for me to get out.
“What about him?” I ask, pointing to Lucius.
“He’s family,” the paramedic replies.
“I’m her goddamn fiancé!” I scream.
“Lucius! The Porsche! Let me go with Vic!” I plead.
He looks at me, and nods to the paramedic.
I grasp Vic’s hand.
Lucius sees the look on my face, and makes a quick calculation.
“Okay, Evan, you can go instead of me,” Lucius says.
I can see the pain in his eyes.
“Thank you, Lucius!” I tell him, as I toss him the keys to my Porsche 911.
He catches them in mid-air and runs towards it, full speed.
“It redlines at 8k! In 5th! Don’t baby it!” I yell after him.
I see Lucius nod, and he dives into the car.
He straps in, and the car rumbles to life.
He checks his surroundings, and executes a smart K-turn, reversing the direction of the 911.
In seconds, he’s peeled out, the smell of burning rubber assailing my nostrils.
He’ll probably get to the hospital before we do, I think morosely.
Heat_A Stone Billionaire Series Novel Page 28