Chapter Twenty-Three

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Some moments you reacted to, and it just might save your life. Like jumping out of the way of a speeding car when trying to cross the street. Life was filled with moments of lifesaving split-second decisions. This was not one of them.

First, it was too easy, too perfectly tempting. Like being offered fresh-out-of-the-oven cookies from the devil when you hadn't eaten for days. Not many would say no.

Second, she knew there were cameras here, even if she couldn't see them. The entire estate was wired just like her room had been.

Third, Elonzo was a shrewd businessman. He didn't do anything without a motive. Again, she didn't know him, but she knew his type. Greedy. Thirsty for power. Calculating. Also, a determined survivor. Like her.

So this was more than a test. It had to be, and her money was on this being some sort of insurance. Something to hold over her head. It was a shrewd choice, but a good move for Elonzo.

"You're playing the mutual destruction card, huh?" She folded her arms over her chest. "Explains why you wanted me to wear the outfit." It was symbolic.

Panting with exertion, Elonzo continued holding out the blood-covered bat. "Take it, Justine. It has my prints. My DNA. My blood, too." He showed her his other hand.

So that was why he had bloody knuckles. He'd spent the night using them.

She turned her head toward the whimpering mess, to the man who'd lured her down a path she'd been too na?ve, too young, and too lonely to say no to. The blame lay on her shoulders for her past choices, because if she was ever going to move on, she had to own every piece of it.

Ed. You shit. Can't you just die? She'd gone to prison for killing him—sort of. She'd endured hell to be free of him. She'd paid with her soul to stay that way. How the fuck was he still alive?

She cleared her throat, netting in her emotions. This was the game. And, yes, she was absolutely playing now. Knee deep.

"If I say no?" she asked Elonzo.

"It's him or you, Justine. Do you really think he's worth more than you?"

No, but this was the sort of killing that would cross a line she'd sworn to never step over: killing for revenge and hate.

She looked at Elonzo again, frozen with conflict.

"Perhaps," he said, "you'd like to know how I found him to begin with."

She didn't really care because time was running out. There was too much blood on the floor. Death was near for her husband. She always called him her "ex" because that was who he was in her heart. Legally, though, they were still married. It meant that Elonzo was asking her to kill a man she'd sworn before God to love and care for. In sickness and health. Until death do they part. He never deserved the vows, but she'd given them, nonetheless. There would be a price on her soul for killing him, even if she wanted to do it.

"Death is too easy. He belongs in prison," she said firmly.

"The man is a monster. You said so yourself."

She chuckled bitterly. "He sure is, but he's not even the biggest monster in this room."

"So you think that I am the one who makes money from children and women being raped for money. But what if I told you that the people who run these operations live in plain sight and do it as a service to their powerful friends? They hide behind their money, their political power, and allies."

She would believe him. Recently, there'd been the case of the millionaire influence peddler with his secret child sex island. The man had been arrested, only to "commit suicide" in his cell. No one believed it given the circumstances. There were hundreds of photos of rich and powerful people hanging out on that island, posing with the victims. Totally sick.

Elonzo continued, "At the end of the day, they demand we allow them to operate. It's a bidding war, Justine. The one who makes the best offer to those who are truly in control wins the job. We are just their contractors."

No. That couldn't be right. Yet the facts supported it. The Colombian had operated for over a decade with the support of suite forty-five, who were funded by local governments and people higher up the food chain. Emily had seen Charge's influence and reach with her own eyes. He'd helped the biggest cocaine dealer in the world sell his drugs, and the border communities had enjoyed relative peace.

Then things had changed. Demand for different products perhaps. That was when Elonzo took over.

"It is my burden to carry for the life I chose." Elonzo turned his head toward the bloodied face zip-tied to the chair. "But he is only one of hundreds, Justine. I have nothing to gain from these monsters other than I get to live another day, hoping something will change and that the demand will stop. Meanwhile, I do what I can to keep my family alive, my daughters breathing. The money means nothing to me. Power is my only shield." He looked at the sobbing half-conscious man. "Power can be yours, too. So choose. Him or you."

"Justine, I'm so sorry," Ed sobbed. "I love you…"

Emily tried not to choke on her own bile. She'd dreamed of killing him a million times, but seeing him so helpless and in pain tugged at her heart. As bad as things got sometimes, she always saw the man who smiled at her in that café where they first met. He was the first person in the world to say he needed her, that she was pretty. She'd had him between her thighs, wishing for a baby during those first years. She'd made him dinners just to see his eyes light up after a hard day. They'd laughed together. They'd dreamed of a great life and of growing old together.

You were my first taste of something better… Her eyes teared, the memories flooding back. Memories that had held her hostage during their time together.

"I ca-can't do it," she said.

Elonzo hit the bat on the cement floor. "Woman! Grow a fucking pair. He beat you. Every day for years. He would trade your life for a dollar. Kill him."

Her hand twitched. Her heart begged for closure. The rage inside demanded she do it. But who would she be if she crossed that line?

Not Emily. Not Justine. Just another killer.

She forced her gaze to Elonzo's and approached him, taking his free hand. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she could hardly breathe. "I'm not who you think, Elonzo. As bad as he is, as big a monster, I can't kill a man just because of that. He deserves punishment, but it's not up to me to give it."

"So you'd just let this piece of shit live, even if it will cost your life?" Elonzo asked, seething with disgust.

"As long as he's no threat to me or anyone else, yes," she replied.

"Emily," Ed sobbed with bloody spurts. "Save me. I love you."

Elonzo looked at him and then her.

She looked away from them both. "Can I go now, or are you going to kill me?"

Elonzo walked up close, and she shut her eyes. But instead of hitting her, he placed the bat in her hand. He twisted the base in her fingers and then pressed her thumb into the drying blood.

Elonzo wanted her prints and DNA on the murder weapon alongside his. Insurance. If she ever turned on him, they'd go down together.

She opened her eyes and pressed her mouth to his, kissing him hard.

Elonzo didn't kiss her back, but that was fine. This wasn't a romantic gesture.

"We're in this game together now, Elonzo, so tell me what you want." She pushed the bat into his stained shirt.

"First, you must decide what to do with him," Elonzo said. "And, no, I cannot turn him over to the authorities."

She looked at Ed, sneering with disgust. "In that case, if it were up to me, I'd sentence him to live out his days like the women he drugged and made money from."

Elonzo nodded. "Done. My gift to you, Justine."

He'd said her true name again, and it was the first time she hadn't felt revolted. The kind young woman who'd existed before Ed was still here. She wasn't weak or useless, like he'd tried to make her believe. She wasn't a victim. She was a person, like so many in this world, who'd been faced with difficult situations. But now she knew there was no shame in who she was. Justine Hays was the reason Emily Wilson had not turned into a monster while living among them.

"Goodbye, Ed," she said. "I don't know how long you'll live, but you should spend the time preparing for hell."

She left the basement.