Brutal (38 page)

My family.

Gone.

Yet, I’m still here.

I’m left to suffer.

The part of me that retreats when things are out of my control is on the cusp of taking over. I reach deep for Kharma, but she isn’t there. I’m screaming in my head ‘where are you?!’ but I don’t get an answer. If I ever needed her, it’s now. My eyes are still squeezed shut. My inner fighter knows I’m leaving myself vulnerable right now, but my seventeen-year-old self wants to hide. Why did she leave me?  Why now? I’m not strong enough without her. I’m a fucking mess, actually. But I’m guessing that’s the point.

“Hello Nessa,” he says.

You’ve heard people talk about their ‘Aha’ moment, yeah? Well, this is mine.

Kharma left, because she knew this wasn’t her fight. It was mine. I don’t need her to tell me, I just know.

It’s not her right, it’s mine.

She won’t take his life tonight, I will.

After tonight, I also know she won’t be coming back.

Odds are, neither will I.

A
fter a private discussion with Rafe, I did manage to calm down some. By some, I mean not taking the heads off the four other people in this room. My head is doing worst case scenario type shit, and I can’t make it fucking stop. My mate is out there, unprotected. He told me about her texts and his promise. I get it, she had him cornered but damn, we’re the law. We were trained to handle this shit. I ask him to show me the sketch he sent to her, and it doesn’t ring any bells for us or the others.

Who the fuck is this guy? Our original plan was to keep the Captain out of this per her request, but god dammit if anyone knows about her life back then, it’s him. Rafe called and asked him to meet us here, and he’s on his way. I keep checking my phone, waiting for the app to show me her location, and still, nothing.

“Anything?” asks Rafe, for the hundredth time. “No.”

Max, Tony, and Perret are occupying a booth, giving us our space. We’re like two caged lions. With the way he keeps looking at me, there’s a good chance I’m fucking growling. Max looks at his laptop, then signals to the door and Rafe walks over to let the Captain in. Walking right in, he owns a room, I’ll give the man that. Thirty years of police work will do that to you, I guess. Not looking in the direction of the others, he motions Rafe and I to the other side of the room so we can speak in private.

“Talk,” he says.

Rafe and I each give him the lowdown. Rafe on Macy, me on Venessa.

“I thought she would come to me,” says the Captain.

“Yeah, well, she didn’t come to me, either,” I offer.

“She was protecting you, man,” says Rafe, reminding me. “I told you that.”

“James Laurel calls Max, and says what, again? Repeat it,” he says. “We’re missing something,”

“He says we’re in the clear now that she’s coming home,” says Rafe.

“Show him the sketch,” I demand.

Rafe opens the picture of James Laurel, and hands his phone to the Captain. We both watch him, waiting for something. Shit, anything. He just stares at it. He doesn’t blink, twitch, or breathe, just stares.

We exchange looks, wondering what the fuck to do now. The Captain was always real up front with us, so this silent treatment shit ain’t right. I move to stand directly next to the Captain, and Rafe flanks the left.

“You know who that is.” I say as a statement, because it is. He fucking knows.

He nods.

“Who is it, Captain?” asks Rafe. “Clock's ticking, boss. Venessa fucking left here. Alone. Tracker's off.”

He looks at Rafe, then at me, and drops his head.

“Cap,” I say. “I ain’t got time for no bullshit. Who the fuck is it in that picture?”

Max, Tony, and Perret are behind the Captain now, waiting on his answer.

“Captain,” I say again. “This is Venessa we’re talking about here. She’s unprotected. I need to get to her. Who is it?”

He looks at each of them, briefly seeing their fear and love for her. He looks at me last. I see that he’s lost. This man, who is the Captain of the god damned Detroit Police Department, doesn’t know what to do.

“Cap,” I say. “I have to save her. Who is that? Where’s home? Tell me!”

He just stares at the floor.

“God dammit!” I roar, grabbing him by the shoulders. My boss, my mentor, the only father I’ve ever known. “You will fucking tell me, because if something happens to her because you didn’t, I will kill you myself!”

Rafe gets between us, basically holding me back, because he’s fucking holding out on me! On her!

“Captain,” says Rafe. “Last time he asks nicely. Next time, I won’t stop him.”

The Captain looks up at me, right in the eyes, like fucking deep in the eyes, for the first time ever.

“He’s my son.”

I
f I wasn’t a firm believer before, I am now. How’s it go? When someone shows you who they are, believe them, yeah? That voice. Older now, more mature in ways, yet the same. If it wasn’t for the voice, I wouldn’t recognize him at all. It comes back to me in pieces. The eyes on me at the club, the feeling of being watched, but not threatened, the voice in Max’s office. Oh, and let’s not forget my head being mollywhopped off a brick wall. I had to have brain surgery because of this asshole. I give myself a brief moment to think about what this is going to do to the Captain and Diane. Then, I take a deep breath and make a decision.

Keeping my eyes closed, I remind myself this isn’t the kid who taught me how to ride my bike and built me a tree fort. This isn’t the guy who threatened Adam Reeves for pulling my hair, this isn’t the guy who used to watch me race, this isn’t the guy who I share every childhood memory with, this isn’t the guy who was my best friend, either.

This is a man who turned to drugs, turned his back on his family. This is a man who turned his back on me when I needed him most, because drugs were more important than I was. This is a man who would abduct innocent women and put his hands on my best friend just to hurt me. This is a man I need to stop.

I can feel him in front of me, but I refuse to look. I can’t. I don’t want to see his face. I don’t know this person. I’m in survival mode. He’s a means to an end. That end is Macy.

“Open your eyes, Nessa,” he says, but I don’t.

He runs his hand down the side of my face and, instantly, I tense.

“Nessa,” he says. “Look at me.” But I refuse.

He open handed slaps me across the right side of my face.

“So strong,” he says, walking to stand behind me. “So beautiful.”

He wraps both arms around my waist and pulls me into his erection. He leans into the curve of my neck, breathing me in. “So small and breakable.”

He pulls my hair hard, which gives my neck no choice but to comply. He runs his left hand over my breast, and starts squeezing me through my suit.

“You’ll enjoy the break,” he says. “I promise. You’ll beg for more, even. I’ve waited so long for you, Nessa. You should have stayed pure. All those years I tried to be better for you, because that’s what you deserved. Then you started slumming in that club, acting like a whore. You acted like a whore who doesn’t fuck. Who does that, Nessa? I knew you were waiting for me, had to be. Fucking assholes never let me get close. As soon as I got close, you weren’t pure anymore. You gave it up for that fucking giant, always looking at his ugly face, touching his disgusting body. You turned on me, and teamed up with my old man. Who does that shit, Nessa? You do. You are not pure anymore but, luckily for you, I never was either. Open your fucking eyes, and show me you’re still pure, Nessa.”

He tightens his grip in my hair, and I can feel my sutures pulling apart. The blood is running down my neck freely now, and when he feels the wetness, he takes his tongue over the fresh trail, absorbing me.

“Open your eyes, Nessa,” he says. “I promise, you’ll want to see this.”

I don’t.

He takes his right knee and strikes mine from behind, instantly making my legs give. Now on my knees, he comes in front of me again, and I can feel his panting on the top of my head. He just stands there, waiting.

“Remember when I built you that tree house?” he asks. “So many nights we spent out there alone. Your parents trusted you to me. They knew I’d protect you. My dad didn’t, though. He said I couldn’t be trusted, that I was useless, that you were too good for me. You, too good for me. If they only knew the monster that you really are.”

He’s rubbing my face with both hands now and then squeezes my jaw hard.

“Too good,” he says, laughing and squeezing. “The old man is next, you know. He’s kept you from me long enough. He pays, too.”

He takes both arms, and helps me to stand. I’m starting to get disoriented and weak.

“Open your fucking eyes, Nessa,” he says. “Look at me.”

I don’t.

He punches me in the face, and I feel my left eye swell immediately.

“Your eyes are green,” he says, petting me. “I want to see them. Show me I’m wrong. Show me you’re pure.”

I ignore him.

“I’ve seen the way you’ve handled the others,” he says. “I’m not like them. You will submit to me, Nessa.”

I felt the shift in the air, and a split second later a blow to my side, directly in my kidneys, and I go down.

He pushes me to my back and straddles me. He brushes the hair from my face, and tries to unzip my suit. I can feel his frustration when it won’t open easily. When he fails in freeing me, I smile. Clearly, he sees it because he gives me a double tap in my face for the effort.

He’s breathing heavy, and with the suit not opening he uses his knees to spread my legs.

I reach out for Macy. She reminds me that I won’t ever do anything I don’t want to. I renew my promise to find her.

The pain is at a solid 7 out of 10, I’m coming close to passing out, but I’m even closer to turning the tables, so I hang on to that.

“I will not be ignored anymore!” he yells, reaching for something. Probably rope or a knife. I don’t want to do this! You left me no choice! Open your eyes, and I’ll stop!”

I don’t.

He hauls me up and drags me down into the basement. He takes my hands and ties them together. I feel the pull, and know that he’s securing me to the beam over my head. The musty scent in the basement is as familiar as it is comforting. Macy is here. I can smell her.

“Your eyes aren’t open,” he says. “But hers are.”

Still, I keep them closed.

He walks away and I hear him strike Macy. She cries out, but stops just as quickly.

“The bitch doesn’t take it as well as you,” he says, touching my face. “She’s watching you, Nessa, shall we give her a show?”

Still, I keep them closed.

I
can’t think straight, I can’t focus. It’s a real effort to not destroy the bar, let alone speak. The fact that we’re all standing here, while she’s somewhere else is killing me. The tracker isn’t on, or it’s not working, and both options scare the fuck out of me. She is diligent when she hunts. I may not have called it that before, but that’s what she’s doing, hunting. Leaving here essentially unarmed gives me some insight to where her head is at, and it’s not a good place. Fuck, I just need to be there. I’ll kill whoever I have to, to get to her. If I fucking knew where
there
was. Rafe is pacing, same as the other three. We all want this over with. No one more than me, and the bloodier the better.