by Dani René
She’s the only thing I need. I want her back. “We need to get into the offices, the top floor of the club. It’s the only way we can figure out what Ryker was doing there.”
Grant’s right. The first thing we need to find out is why my former best friend was there with a woman who looks like Tia. “We should—”
“Hey man, check this out,” Jason calls from the desk, and I’m beside him in moments. The feed picks up the woman who looks like Tia talking to an older man. When he zooms into the image on the screen, my body turns cold. Ice chills my veins and anger fuels my blood.
The fucker who killed my parents. Tia’s father. The girl on the screen smiles at him. Leaning in, they hug, and the realization slaps me in the face and punches me in the gut. She’s my girl’s sister. She must be. “Run an identity scan. I need to know who she is!” I bark, earning a smug grin from Jason.
“Already done.” Jason clicks the mouse, and the image in question fills the screen.
Isabelle Alvarez.
Older sister to Tia, or Tatiana Alvarez.
“Their mother?” He clicks the mouse, pulling up another screen, and there it is.
Monique Jones.
Married to Miguel for twenty years, murdered when Tia was nine and Isabelle was twelve. The murder was never solved.
“We need to find Isabelle. She’ll be our key to finding Tia, and their father. I need this to end. This fucker needs to meet his maker, and it’s happening tonight. I’m not waiting anymore,” I bite out to the men in the room. Agreement comes from each of them. They know what this asshole has done, and it’s time he pays for his sins. In blood.
“Guys, I’ve just found his hideout on the outskirts of town. I’ve also cross-referenced the vehicle registration we’ve been tracking, and he goes to this place here every night.” Jason once again points to the screen at the warehouse which is on the other side of town.
“We’ll move out at nightfall. It will be easier to get onto the property undetected. Pull up the blueprints. We need to figure out a point of entry.” Our computer whizz nods and starts furiously typing away at the keyboard.
Turning from the guys, I head into the kitchen and grab the coffee pot. My phone buzzing startles me, and I pull it from my pocket to see Ryker’s name staring back at me. Swiping my finger over the screen, I grunt my greeting. “What do you want?”
“That’s no way to talk to your best friend, Brax. It seems that whore you’ve been fucking has gotten to you.” His tone is thick with malice, and I’m ready to take the fucker down. All those years of friendship growing up together—practically as brothers—is gone.
I’m done. He’s had chance after chance, and I’ve run out of patience. “If you so much as harm a hair on her head, I will bury you. Do you understand me, Ryker?” I slam my fist against the counter so hard everything rattles.
“Jesus, bro, that bitch doesn’t have a magic pussy.” He chuckles again, and I’m ready to ram him into a fucking wall. “Not that I would know because I’ve never been there or done that. Maybe I am missing out on something.” He chuckles darkly, and rage courses through my veins.
“Two things. First, I am not your bro. Second, if you ever come near her, speak ill of her, or try to hurt her, I will fuck you up so badly you’ll be six feet under. And I’m not fucking around. I will kill you, Ryk.” My words are harsh, serious, and venomous.
“Oh, it’s not me you should be worried about, bro. I’m definitely not going to hurt her. But if her father arrives, which he will be in” — he’s quiet for a moment, and I picture him looking at the Rolex he always wears — “about two hours, I doubt you’ll find her in time. You see, her father has a grudge. And it doesn’t matter if she’s his daughter or not, you know what he does to people who cross him.”
With that, the line goes dead, and I’m left gawking at the phone. Racing back into the tech room, I find the men scouring pages and pages of plans.
“I just got a call from Ryker. He’s just confessed that Tia’s father is out to hurt her. There were sounds in the background, sounded like a train track, possibly a warehouse. Can you pull up all security footage from the warehouses closest to the railway, Jason?”
“We’ll find her, man,” Grant promises.
I glance at my partner and nod. I know we’ll find her. The only question is, in what condition?
“Yes!” My roar is loud and echoes around us. Everyone’s eyes are on me. After two hours of searching through security footage, six men, six screens, I find what I’m looking for. The fucker is about an hour from here. My team surrounds me as I hit print on the info I found.
“It’s an hour away,” Grant says loudly. “If we leave now, we’ll be there by nightfall. Let’s take this fucker out. I want to shred him.”
I glance back at the man behind me and regard the malicious grin that quirks his mouth. Grant is known for his love of knives. And I have a feeling he’s ready to exact some revenge, but I can’t let him.
Miguel Alvarez is mine.
“This mark is mine. He killed my parents. It’s time for me to gut him like he did them. I want to hear him scream, beg, and plead for his life. I want to see the life drain from his eyes. For them. For me. And for Tia.” A heavy hand falls on my shoulder, and I regard him.
“Then you’ll get it. Let’s go.” He grabs his jacket and gun belt, which has sheaths for two butcher knives, and he shrugs both on. My holster is all I need, but in case we find Tia and she’s hurt, I grab my own jacket, and we race out to the SUV.
The darkened windows allow us anonymity, and I slip into the passenger seat. With Jason taking out the surveillance around the warehouse, I know they won’t see us coming, but I’ll see them. Him.
Two other vans behind us start up, and the engines roar in the dark night. The roads should be quiet, which will definitely help us get there faster. I need to finish this and save my girl.
Grant’s foot hits the gas, and the engine shoots to life. He pulls out of the parking lot, and we head out toward the highway, which will take us out of the city and into the quieter area just outside the main center of San Antonio. There’s not much there from what I can tell on the mapping system.
Of course, he’d go to a place that’s far from civilization. My heart thuds when I think of Tia. What he’s doing to her. I’m coming, baby. Just hold on. I love you. I fucking love you. Don’t you dare leave me. My mind repeats the vow, the promise, the three words we’d both been too afraid to say, and I’m just praying it’s not too late.
“We’ll find her. She’s going to be okay. Stop worrying so much.” Grant’s voice drags me from the concern that’s taking over my mind.
“I know, man. It’s just . . .” My words taper off, and I’m not sure what to say. How to say it. I’ve not confessed my love for her yet, but I know I can trust the man beside me.
“You love her, I know. We’ve had this conversation, Brax. You’ll get to tell her. Mark my words,” he says in a tone filled with conviction. If he’s so sure, then so am I.
I’ll find you, baby. I swear on my life, I’ll find you.
Tia
The Past
“There’s my little girl.” The familiar rumble of the man I ran from for so long wakes me from a dream of safety. Of Braxton. When my eyes crack, he’s there. The Devil himself. Revulsion, fear, and anxiety hit me so hard my breathing stutters. I’ve been hanging from these ropes for so long, and my hands are numb, but all I want to do is wrap them around his neck.
My fingers tingle, and I swallow the bile that sits in my throat like a lump, threatening to choke me. Thankfully, Belle shoved some panties and a tank top on me before she left me here to die.
Pinning him with a glare, I don’t respond, but fear slowly slithers like a serpent through me.
“Now, Belle has outdone herself. Finding you and presenting you, so . . .” A thick finger trails its way up my bare hip, sending another wave of dread coursing through my veins. He snakes it around my head, and with a
big, strong hand, he grips my hair roughly. “Beautifully.”
A small squeak falls from my lips; it’s all I can muster. My strength is depleted, and the pain from having my hair wrenched back has tears forming in my eyes, but I refuse to cry. I’ll not give him the satisfaction of seeing my tears.
It’s been years, and he still has the power over me to send me into panic. He’s older but still evil. Dark eyes, almost black under thick dark brows, bore into me. The scar that runs from under his left eye down to his chin seems to glow in the dim light. That’s the scar I gave him, and the memory has my body tingling to do it again. I’m only dressed in a skimpy top and a pair of panties, but the way he’s looking at me, I might as well be naked. I feel bared to him, flayed open for his hungry gaze.
“Still such a feisty little thing, aren’t you, Tia?” he hisses in my face, spittle flying from his mouth and landing on my cheek. It has more memories surfacing, choking me. My body quakes when he once again pulls me forward. My arms scream in agony from being tied up all this time. I don’t know how long I’ve been here, but now, as the light turns a burnt orange, I would have to guess at least twelve hours. Unless . . . I’ve forgotten. I’ve gone there. “I’m going to make sure you pay for all the shit you caused with that little boyfriend of yours. Do you know he came into my club and tried to take me down?”
“No, I didn’t.” My thoughts falter when I think of Braxton.
I knew he was working for Retribution. They were the ones who saved me. Only Braxton doesn’t know. I never told him my whole story. I never told him everything that made me who I am today.
I never told him if it wasn’t for his boss, Corp, I wouldn’t be alive. Corp and his team found me and told me where to find my father. Corp saved me from spending my whole life searching for a man who I knew would hide until the day he took his last breath.
“Of course you did, little Tia,” he asserts with the confidence of the asshole he is. I didn’t know about their plan to take my father down. If I did, it would have been easier for me to complete my plan and exact my revenge.
It’s been years; too long has passed since I vowed that I’d kill him. And now that I’m in the same room, I’m in no fucking condition to do it.
Break free.
I can’t.
If you don’t do it now, you’ll never be able to.
How? Tell me how?
Get him to loosen your bindings.
He won’t listen to me.
With the conversation playing in my mind, I watch him stalk around the room, pulling up a chair before me. The small silver tray he sets on the table beside me glints, stealing my attention from the war raging in my mind, and my gaze falls on the tools he’s about to use on his youngest daughter.
You see, my father is a master of torture. Of hurting people. However, he’s no longer the one they call when all else has failed. He’s the one who now runs the show.
Master manipulator.
So are you.
She taunts me, telling me things I don’t believe. Can I really manipulate him into undoing my bindings? Into letting me go? Perhaps. But what then? I kill him and get put away for it? I need to think. To figure out how this is going to play out.
“Tia, my baby girl.” He commands my attention, and when I meet those evil, dark eyes, I know there’s no choice but to play along.
I need to give him something, play on his emotions. If there’s one thing I know about him, it’s that he’s a man who’s fueled by them. Growing up with him has given me an insight into the workings of his brain. “Father, can we talk? I have missed you. So, so much.” My voice drops on the last few words as I pour sadness into it. My acting abilities must have worked, because he jolts in surprise.
“You missed me?” He laughs incredulously. “Do you miss the day you stood toe to toe with me and told me you were going to kill me?” His tone is filled with anger now. Good. Emotion. I need that to work with. If he’s angry, it means I can weave my way into his head and make him release me.
“No.” I drop my gaze again, hoping to hide my expression and not show fear. “I just . . . I was wrong when I said that. My fear overrode everything else, and I didn’t realize what I was saying.” The words I spew are bullshit, but I know I have him when his gaze softens.
If I convince him that I love him, he’ll let me go, and I can finally get the revenge I need and want. He grips the smooth, steel blade from the tray. A scalpel that I know he can use to hurt me more than I’d like to admit. Or recall for that matter.
He shakes his head as he pushes up, rising to full height. Like that night when I broke, fear riddles my senses like a poison, slowly seeping into the cracks of who I am. Those shattered pieces that he created in me are now at his feet.
He holds all the cards. I’m fucked. “Look, you’re here to hurt me,” I level with him, my voice more confident and stronger than I expect, and from the look on his face, something he didn’t expect either. “But, deep down, you know I’m the key to getting you out of whatever plan Brax and his team are working on.” In the hopes that he listens and doesn’t freak out, I watch as he contemplates my words.
My heart catapults into my throat, the beats hastening as his gaze darkens.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Shit.
You’ve fucked it up, Tia.
No. No. No.
Black swirls around me, threatening to engulf me, but I can’t do this now. I can’t lose sight of him in this moment. Please, please, don’t. I beg and plead. And it seems to work momentarily. In seconds, my father, the Devil himself, is mere inches from me. “Do you think for one second I want you to help me?” He spits out the words like they’re venomous.
“I just—”
“You just thought you could fuck over your old man. Why? Because you blame me for your fucked-up brain?” He laughs, the sound so dark and evil it’s as if he drenched me in ice-cold water. My body shivers in the dim light, in the darkness of the room I’ve been hanging in. It’s about the size of an office, with space I’d guess for a desk and chair, but it’s only furnished with a sofa, which is situated opposite me. The same one where Ryker fucked my sister.
When I drag my blurry gaze back to him, I find my father’s demented smirk pinned on me.
Black. Black. Black.
Kick him.
I can’t.
Do something, Tia.
I can’t.
You need to fight.
It’s over. I don’t have anything left in me. My body aches. He reaches out a hand, fisting my hair and tugging my head back. “My daughter, the two-faced little bitch. I gave you everything. I almost lost clients because of you and that stupid brain of yours.” I wince in pain as his fingers grip my hair tighter, holding me in place so he can sneer into my face.
The strands in his grasp sting my scalp as the bite of pain shoots through me. “Please,” I beg, one more try to make him see reason, but it’s futile. When he’s like this, there’s nothing that can stop him. Nothing that can break down those black walls he has around him.
“Don’t fucking speak.” Then I feel it, the cold metal on my skin. He carves into me. The smooth flesh of my neck lacerated by the sharp blade. Slowly. Meticulously. Painfully. All the while I feel the blood trickle, drop by crimson drop, I go to my place.
That place. My haven.
Only this time, it’s not her there. It’s him. With piercing caramel eyes, he smiles.
Holding out a hand to me.
Braxton Carter.
The man my heart belongs to. The one person in this world I finally allowed myself to feel something for again. The only person I’ve loved since my mother.
Tears sting my eyes, threatening to spill. I try to hold them back as the blade slices between my bared breasts. My chest heaves in agony, and I try to still my heart.
I want to leave this place. To wake up beside Brax, to feel his arms around me. Steadying me. Making me indestructible. Because a
s my own father etches the metal into my skin, marking me with this filth, it feels as if I’m breaking all over again.
All those fragments that Brax put together, all those tiny pieces he mended are coming undone, inch by bloodied inch, and I don’t think I’ll ever be whole again.
“Look how beautiful you are, Tia,” Satan coos in my ear. Releasing his hold on my hair, he steps back and admires his handiwork. From my jaw all the way down to my belly button is a smarting sliver of red. I feel the lifeforce seeping from me. So slow it’s almost unnoticeable. This is what he does. I’ve seen him do it too many times before.
You see, my father is an artist of sorts. He’s got a steady hand. He moves swiftly. Making him an artist of torture, slicing open flesh, displaying his creations, using the bodies of his victims as canvases.
Now, he’s made me a victim. I’m his masterpiece. “Father.” My voice is croaky. My eyes flutter closed as unconsciousness steals me, but I fight it. It’s the only thing I can manage. All my strength bleeds from my wound along with the deep merlot-colored metallic fluid that now marks the floor below me. “Please . . . d-don’t . . .” My mouth is dry as I beg for my life. The one slipping through my fingers. “D-do . . . t-this . . . ”
He doesn’t respond, only picks up another instrument from his torture tray and nears me. I can’t see what it is. My vision blurs, and the tears I’ve kept at bay now fall. They tumble from my eyes and stream down my cheeks. The saltiness stings the wounds on my lips and face.
“You, my sweet little, Tia, are going to die. Do you know why? Because you’re just like your mother. That’s why I had to take care of her. You were too young for them to incarcerate, and your mental health wasn’t one hundred percent, so you took the fall. And all these years you believed it. Didn’t you?” he seethes in my ear.
My head is starting to spin. I have no more words. I slump forward, my head hanging like a limp rag doll. Pain sears me again and again, but somewhere in the darkness I find light.