by Rachel Leigh
“There will always be that thin line.” He tsks. “Deal with it. Now get your ass in the house, before I carry you in.”
My mind flashes back.
“Do you hate me for what I've done to you—to us?” I cried, pleading for any sign that he still loved me. I need his love like I need air; I can’t survive without it.
“There is such a thin line between love and hate. My feelings for you are unchanged, but because of what you’ve done, we will marry. There is no other way.”
“You want me to be your wife?” I cried, engulfed in happiness.
“There is also a thin line between want and need.”
The sizable door opens for us automatically and we are greeted by a bald gentleman in a butler suit. “G’day, Sir and Madam Rossi.”
He pays no attention to the fact that I am leashed and being led by the ropes around my wrists. Ropes that have tightened immensely from my constant battle with them.
I’m led down a long corridor and around a corner, where Malcolm kicks open a door. He tosses me inside, and the door slams shut, with him on the other side.
“You have got to be kidding me?” I scoff, “Untie me, dammit.” I kick at the closed and locked door repeatedly.
After wearing myself out, mentally and emotionally, I surrender.
I look around the room, four bare walls closing in on me. No windows, no wall hangings. Just a twin-sized bed up against a wall and a double-sided armoire in the corner. I walk over to the bed and drop down onto it. Using my teeth, I begin tugging at the knot in the rope. I’m able to bend my wrist at just the right angle to dig my fingers into the small space. I work them over and over again, until I start to feel the knot loosen.
I spend what feels like hours, trying to free myself, but give up in defeat, when I hear rustling at the door.
It opens quickly, and that rage resumes.
“You!” I charge at him full speed, with fire in my eyes.
24
Knox
I smack my dry lips together and open my eyes, blinded by the sun that beats down on me. Pushing myself up, I notice the trashed yard. Clothes are thrown around the pool, as if there was a nude riot taking place here last night. I wonder if I was awake to see it. If I was, I don’t remember a damn thing. In fact, I don’t even remember coming here.
“What the hell happened last night?” I blink my eyes a few times, adjusting them. Axel stands over me with a bottle of water, that I all but tear from his hands. I twist the top off and tip it back, taking every last drop, while he talks.
“You were tore the fuck up.” He laughs, which is good, because laughter proves that I didn’t do anything too ridiculous. I’m still in one piece, which means I must not have pissed anyone off enough to the point of no return.
“I don’t remember anything.” I touch my fingers to my face and shriek. “Shit man, what time is it? How long have I been roasting in the sun?” I drop back into the lounge chair, with my legs hanging on each side.
“It’s noon. While you’ve been out here working on your tan, I’ve been making do on the promise I made you last night.”
“Promise?” I shoot up.
“Right. You wouldn’t remember. I promised I’d help you track down old teach.” His hand meets the side of my leg. “Now get your ass up, I think I’ve got something.”
My feet hit the cement so fast. “Seriously? You think you know where she is?”
“I didn’t say that, but I might know someone who does.”
I follow Axel through the gate, still feeling as dehydrated as a ten year old raisin. It feels like the blood in my head is crashing waves into my skull.
“What’s next?” I ask, as we walk up the large brick patio that leads to French doors.
“We need to contact a man named Jorge Dimeria. I’ve been having a hell of a time finding anything on this guy, but I might know someone who can help.”
“Who the fuck is Jorge Dimeria?”
“He’s the guy who contacted Blakely about the teaching job. That’s when she offered the guesthouse to Ms. Hyland.”
“Alright, slow down. Start from the beginning.” I grab his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.
I can’t even think straight right now. I have no idea what he’s talking about.
“I started at the beginning. The only person we know who has any connection to her is Blakely. She gave me this guy's name and number, but it goes straight to an automated voicemail.”
“Did you leave a message?”
“No, I didn’t leave a message. Messages are trails, and I never leave trails.”
“Well so-rr-y, Mr. PI.”
“Go sit in the sauna for ten minutes then take a shower. You fucking stink like sweaty balls and stale beer.”
I don’t even have the energy to search for a snappy comeback. I just agree with him and head toward the basement, where the indoor sauna and one of the guest bathrooms are.
“Wait,” I turn from the open door, “you said you know someone who can help? Who is it?”
“Anderson Thorn, who else?”
“You told your dad?” I spit. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“I was thinking that I made a promise to my best friend and that my dad has the ability to hunt down anyone, dead or alive. If Elvis’s body is ever found—my dad.” He points at himself. “Now hurry up, we need to get this done, so you can get some time in with Shane, before your big fight tonight.”
He’s right. His dad is a powerful man and has the connections to track down this Jorge guy.
I’m just not so sure I want to find out how Jorge is connected to Claire and what part he plays in her life.
After holding my mouth open under the cool running water of the shower for a good fifteen minutes, I’m finally feeling slightly replenished.
I throw on my dirty clothes and head upstairs. I’ll shower again when I get home and put on something a little less liquor stained.
Searching the rooms high and low, the only person I find is the maid. I know this house like the back of my hand, all seventeen rooms of it. The only rooms I haven’t checked are upstairs. Growing up, this part of the house was always off limits to us. Axel and I would try to sneak up, but never had any luck with the locked doors. Now that Axel is older, his dad has been allowing him to slowly learn about his business. Not that he cares much. Axel doesn’t want anything to do with the work his dad partakes in. Whether it’s his small businesses or the ones that he’s sworn Axel to secrecy over. One day, he plans to tell his dad that this isn’t his dream, I just hope he does it before he’s sucked so far in that he can’t get out.
I walk up to the open door of the study and see Mr. Thorn sitting behind the wall-sized desk. Axel is in the chair in front with his foot on his knee.
“Good afternoon , Knox.” Mr. Thorn waves me in.
“Good afternoon, Sir.” I tuck my hands into my pockets and walk inside. A large picturesque window, overlooking the open desert, covers the entire back wall.
“Axel was just filling me in a little bit on the search for your friend. As I was filling him in on some news.” He points to an empty chair, “take a seat.”
He continues, “I’m not sure if you’re aware, but this teacher you are looking for, her car was found abandoned at the gas station, east of town last night. All her belongings are still inside.”
My jaw drops, eyebrows shooting straight to my forehead. “What?” I say, stunned—stupefied.
Axel looks at me and nods in agreement of what his dad just said. “It’s true. Her car was towed down to Joe’s garage. Dad was telling me that her phone was in there, too.”
“We have to find her.” I rise to my feet, tracing my fingers around my mouth. “Something isn’t right here.”
Mr. Thorn follows suit and walks over to me, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Knox, we will find her.”
I close my eyes, nodding through the thoughts in my head. “Ok, where do we start?”
He returns to his desk. “I have a dozen men running a search on this Jorge fella. As of right now, we’ve hit a roadblock with Claire Hyland. Her only known address is here in Redwood. No family, no work history. It’s like she was born the day she walked into this town.”
Axel joins my side. “Come on. Dad will figure this out. We have other business to take care of.”
I look to Mr. Thorn. “You’ll let us know what you find out?” I question, pleading for something, anything that will lead us to her.
“Absolutely.”
Axel guides me out of the study and into the hall. “Use this anger in the cage tonight.”
“Are you serious, right now?” I jerk my arm away from him and run my tongue over my lip. “I’m not fighting tonight. I don’t give a fuck about your contract or our deal.”
He takes a deep breath, holding back his displeasure. He knows this is not the time for his bullshit. “Knox,” he grits, through his clenched teeth, “you can’t do this to me.”
His selfishness is astounding.
“There is nothing we can do right now. Let my dad do his thing. He’ll let us know once he finds something.” He walks past me and heads for the stairs then turns around after his first step. “Oh, and if you back out of our deal, then I back out of mine. I’ll call this whole search off.”
I want to grab him and shake some sense into him. Force him to feel something normal for a change, but it’s pointless. Axel Thorn doesn’t feel like a normal human being—not anymore.
25
Claire
Zeke walks over with slow and confident steps. My eyes fixated on his hand that reaches into his pocket. He whips out a knife, and for a moment, fear washes over me.
“Lift your arms,” he orders.
I do as I’m told. Afterall, now is not the time for me to put up a fight. My hands are tied and I’m faced with a man who’s holding a knife just inches from my body.
He grabs my wrists, holding them in place, and sticks the knife in the free space between the rope and my hands, lifting up in a quick motion.
My fingers hover over my rug burned skin. “How do you know him?”
I want to ask about Jorge. I need to know that he is alive, but I can’t start there.
“Cook will bring you food and water soon. Hang tight, Mrs. Rossi.” He begins to walk away.
Like hell he is. I jump from the bed and onto his back, tightening my grip around his neck. If he knows I’m Mrs. Rossi, then he should also know better than to walk away with his back to me, when I want something.
His body swings fiercely back and forth, as he tries to free my leech like hold on him. I open my mouth and bring it to his neck, digging my teeth into his flesh and clamping down, until the taste of blood fills my mouth. Unphased, I hold my place as my fingernails burrow into the skin of his face. “Tell me what you know,” I hiss through clenched teeth.
One of the perks of being married to a man like Malcolm are the self-defense techniques you learn. Not only physically, but mentally. I was trained by the master manipulator himself, along with the jitsu trainer that he hired to come to the house once a week. In order to defend yourself, you need to have guts. That is one thing I certainly do not lack. Little did Malcolm know, he was training me for his own demise.
When he doesn’t respond, I bite harder. Feeling his sticky blood run down my chin. He continues to squall and shake my hold, to no avail.
I stretch my hand down, barely hanging on and losing my bite on his neck. I reach in his pocket and pull out his knife. With one click, I pop it open and place it in front of his neck. This stops his movements quickly. “One wrong move, and I will slice you. Now talk.”
“What do you want to know?” His mouth moves, but his body is frozen.
“Everything. Start with Jorge, where is he?”
When he doesn’t respond, I press the blade into his skin. Not breaking the surface but letting him know that he better talk right now.
“Jorge fled. He’s safe.”
Oh, thank God.
I continue to ask question after question, getting all the details that I need, while I’m in the position to get them.
“How do you know Malcolm?”
When he doesn’t speak, I prick a thin layer of his skin.
“Fine. Stop it, damn. I’ve known Malcolm for years. We run the same cartel, Malcolm, the leader and me, the sheep, a worker beneath him.”
“How did you find me?”
“You were never missing. Malcolm knew your whereabouts, as soon as you got into town. The only person you were fooling was yourself.”
“How did he know? You?”
“It took a little bit to put two and two together. Once Malcolm notified all of his allies about his missing wife, it wasn’t difficult to figure it out. I contacted him, and he paid me a pretty penny to look after you.”
“You mean to stalk me, slash my tires, and show up at my house unannounced.”
“The tire thing was a ploy. I saw Knox in your house that day I showed up. From that day on, I suspected you and Knox had a little fling happening, I needed proof. I got it, when he showed up to rescue you.”
“My car, who fixed it?”
“That was Malcolm, said you needed it. You know how he is, always taking care of his ladies.”
I squeeze the knife tighter at the notion that Malcolm thinks his gesture was taking care of me, that anything he does has been for my own good. I refrain from digging it into his skin in out of sheer hatred for them both.
“How did he find out about Jorge?”
“He knew Jorge was helping you, as soon as he heard where you were. Me being in Redwood was no coincidence. We all have ties there. Your presence was really putting a damper on my business, and I wanted you out, as soon as I knew you were Malcom’s missing wife.”
“Wait a minute, what ties? What business did you have there? You’re just a school teacher.”
His laugh infuriates me, so I bend the knife up and nick his chin, or at least I think it was a nick. I can’t see what’s in front of me, so he may need stitches after that one.
“Fuck, lady.” He fights again and is able to swing me off from him. But, I gain the upper hand and have him on his knees in seconds with my arms around his neck and the knife pressed back in place against his vocal cords.
“Talk, dammit.”
“I came to Redwood last summer. Malcolm and I have a mutual adversary there. My life there was a decoy to get information.” He chokes the words out.
“On who?”
“I can’t tell you that. Please, Claire. He’ll kill me.”
“Who would you rather do the job, me or Malcolm? Because If you know anything about me, you know what I’m capable of. I’ll feel no remorse, taking your life, right here and now.”
“Anderson Thorn.”
Fuck. I take a deep breath. I close my eyes for a moment. Axel and Knox are smack dab in the middle of this mess.
“You hate the guy because he’s your deceased wife's ex-husband. You got her money, what the hell more could you want?”
“I don’t want or need money. Robin was an innocent bystander. Our marriage was another ploy to get the information I needed. Access to accounts, computers, and anything else to help me destroy Anderson.” His voice grows louder. “He botched three of our shipments. He’s been after me, Malcolm, and some others for years. And you,” he twists his head around, “you ruined everything when I was this close.” He pinches his finger and thumb together. “Now I’ve been ordered to end my stay there.”
“Turn around.” I knee him in the back, until he’s facing the door again.
“If Malcolm knew where I was and knew Jorge was helping me, then why didn’t he kill him and take me back?”
“He kept him around for a reason. He knew you’d be in contact, that way, he could keep tabs on you. Figured he’d let you get your little escape out of your system. The minute he caught wind you were leaving Redwood, he sent me to confiscate you.”
I release my grip slowly on the knife, still holding it to protect myself. I pull his keys from his pocket then creep backward to the door, slowly, with my eyes on his still body, standing there with fear in his eyes. I’m not the one he needs to fear anymore. He will pay for opening his mouth, and I won’t feel a bit of guilt when it happens—not after everything he has done.
I stop at the open door, when Zeke begins talking.
“Just a heads up, since I’ve already drowned myself and my life is over at this point. Your boyfriend is more involved in this than what you think. Malcolm has a plan that will destroy him and his buddy, Axel.
I pull the door closed and click the lock. I want to drop and break down right here and now, but I can’t. I have to get to Knox before Malcolm does. I have to stay strong. He will not win.
I bolt down the hall, when I hear voices coming in my directions. Pressing myself up against the wall in a corner, I wait until they fade. Once a door slams shut, I book it. Unsure where I am going, but anywhere that gets me the hell out of here.
After a few wrong turns, I see the gentleman who greeted us when we walked in hours ago. I look past him and see the door. Not even caring if he sees me, I run toward him in my bare feet.
“Madam Rossi, shouldn’t you—”
I pull the door open and run out, not even closing it behind me.