The Unblocked Collection (54 page)

“I know, Derek…I know.” She stepped clumsily onto the sidewalk. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“It’s worth nothing.” I slammed the door shut and reached in my back pocket for my phone. It wasn’t there. I rushed to the couch and found it on top of a cushion. There were two missed calls from Frankie; both had come in at least forty-five minutes ago…when I’d been sleeping.

If only they had woken me up.

I scrolled through my contacts until I found his name; it was kept there so I wouldn’t lose it. I hadn’t called it since I was a kid. A kid who didn’t know any better.

But I knew the truth now.

“Son,” Randy said as he answered.

“I’m not your fucking son.” I didn’t yell; I didn’t even raise my voice. I didn’t have to. My tone made my emotions extremely clear.

“Is there a reason for your call?”

I walked over to the window and watched Taylor climb into a taxi. “You’ve got my attention. Now if you want something from me, be a man and ask me.”

“I take it you’ve gotten reacquainted with Taylor.”

He was so smug. “You really did your homework, didn’t you? That skeleton was buried a long time ago, Randy. It was a nice try. But that’s all it was…a try.”

He laughed. “I’ve got plenty more up my sleeve, son. Hopefully, I won’t have to use any of them.”

I gritted my teeth together. “Speak.
Now
.”

“I know you’ve been sniffing around,” he said confidently. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re looking for so we can settle this once and for all?”

Settle? There would be no settling.

“Fuck you, Randy.” I hung up before he had a chance to say anything else.

I didn’t give a fuck that he was my uncle—my father’s brother. Family didn’t hurt family…brothers didn’t hurt brothers. But he had hurt his.

No, he had murdered his.

I’d watched it happen. The scream, the fall, the death.

The death…of my father.

And I wouldn’t rest until that motherfucker was buried, too.

To be continued…

U
NBLOCKED
:

E
PISODE
5

M
ARNI
M
ANN

Seattle, WA 2015

COPYRIGHT 2015 MARNI MANN

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Edited by Steven Luna

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to similarly named places or to persons living or deceased is unintentional.

PRINT ISBN 978-1-5137-0206-3

EPUB ISBN 978-1-5137-0248-3

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015913523

For my Midnighters,

who constantly inspire me,

keep me smiling

and fill me with love.

DEREK

I HAD NO IDEA
how long it had been since I’d hung up on Randy. The phone still rested in my palm, and his voice still rang in my goddamn ears. The anger in my chest was making it hard to take a deep breath. That motherfucker. He knew better than anyone how to get under my skin.

He thought he was so fucking smart using Taylor to get information out of me. It was a bold move, not a smart one. It hadn’t earned him anything other than a confirmation that Frankie and I were together…a confirmation that I wouldn’t let put her at risk.

If Randy came anywhere near my pink ivory, I would kill him.

I paced, walking past the kitchen to the living room and back. Then I did it again, my anger building with each step. On my third trip toward the freezer, I pulled out the vodka Taylor had sipped from and swallowed down a few shots.

It was starting to feel like things were slipping out of my control. Hayden was putting herself at risk while uncovering more victims every day; Randy was digging up skeletons I’d buried for years, and Frankie felt lied to. She had a sickening suspicion that she didn’t think she was worthy of the truth…but she was worthy of it, and of so much more. I just hadn’t been ready to share it with her. Ready or not, it had to come out now. Our relationship couldn’t afford another setback.

I scrolled through my contacts and found her number. After four rings, it went to voicemail, so I hung up and called again. It went to voicemail a second time. If Frankie wasn’t going to pick up, I knew who would. I scrolled through my contacts again.

“Hello, Mr. Block,” Brea said.

I carried the vodka to the kitchen table and sat, swirling the bottle above the smooth mahogany surface. “Is Frankie with you?”

“No…I thought she went to your place.”

The hint of concern in her voice told me she was telling the truth. “She was here.” I pressed the bottle to my lips and swallowed. “But she left.”

“Well, I haven’t spoken to her since she left the office, and that was before she came to your place. You would be the last person to have seen her.”

I checked the time on the microwave; it was still early enough for her to go out. “Is there somewhere she likes to hide out? Maybe a bar or something?”

“Have you tried calling her? That works for most people, you know.”

I had zero patience for questions like that. But she was Frankie’s best friend, so I needed to find some damn patience. “Yes, Brea, I tried calling her. She’s not answering her phone, which is why I’m calling you.”

Brea sighed. “When she goes out, I’m almost always with her. And since I’m not with her, I’d say she’s probably home taking a bath, or under the covers with her phone turned off.”

That was all I needed to know. “Thanks. I’ll make sure to check the tub, too.”

“Mr. Block?”

I twisted the cap back on the vodka and walked to the freezer. “We’re past the point of formality, Brea. Call me Derek.”

“Okay, Derek…she was given a lot of information tonight and a lot to take in all at once. I know her better than anyone; she needs time to process it all. This may be blunt, but you’re going to have to give her that.”

I froze in the middle of my kitchen. Time? Fuck time. “Whatever she thinks or whatever someone told her or whatever the hell she tries to piece together, it won’t be the right story. She needs to hear the truth from me.”

“And she’ll want to, I’m sure. But she’ll be the one to decide when that happens.”

“Goddammit.” I tossed the bottle into the freezer, not caring if it broke and slammed the door shut. I didn’t want a puppet or a slave, but when I called, I wanted her to pick up the damn phone. It was another situation I couldn’t control: someone had given her information about me, and I hadn’t told her the truth. I hated that. And I hated that I’d avoided telling her every time I had been given a chance. “Okay. You know her best. I’ll back off.”

“I know it’s not easy. But trust me, I wouldn’t suggest it if I didn’t think it was best for her. And for you.”

I’d trusted Brea in the past, and it had proven to be a good decision. I’d trust her again. I had no choice.

I grabbed a bottle of beer from the bar in the living room, switching to something I could drink much more of, and walked into my office. There would be no sleep tonight so I might as well work. “I’ll make it right,” I promised her.

“I know you will, Derek,” Brea said. “I think Frankie knows it, too.”

FRANKIE

“MS. JORDAN,”
the doorman said, “it looks like you had a nice run?”

I smiled as he held the door open, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath. “I did, thank you.” I glanced around the lobby, checking for Reed’s face. “I didn’t have any visitors while I was out, did I?”

He shook his head. “No, ma’am. It’s been a quiet night.”

After hanging up on him just a few hours earlier, I was concerned he would come here and try to talk more. I was happy to hear that he hadn’t—at least he hadn’t yet.

“Have a nice evening.” I gave him a final smile and walked to the elevator.

“You too.”

I stepped inside and hit the button for the top floor, staring at the lit up numbers as sweat dripped down my forehead. I wiped it with my sleeve and leaned against the back wall, wrapping my hands around the safety bar. I didn’t usually run this late, or outdoors, for that matter; I preferred the treadmill inside my building. But tonight, I needed air, the sounds of the city, and asphalt beneath my feet. I hadn’t timed my run or tracked how far I’d gone. From the way my heart was pounding, how my breathing wasn’t yet under control, I knew I’d gone much faster and much farther than I usually did. Still, the distance I’d logged hadn’t given my mind the answers it was looking for; nor did the glass of wine I poured as soon as I stepped into my kitchen.

I held my phone, staring at the two missed calls on the screen. Both were from Derek. It had been more than ninety minutes since his last call, and he hadn’t left a voicemail. Like me, I knew he wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight. And I knew he had things he wanted to say. The only way I would ever get any resolution was if I gave him a chance to talk. Avoiding him would only lead to more questions.