Chapter 34

Chapter Thirty-Four

Nevaeh

I walk out of the meeting in somewhat of a daze with Lou, my agent, beside me.

“That went well—exceedingly well. We could negotiate for more, but if anything, they are offering more than I would have thought,” Lou tells me.

“You think I should take the deal?”

“I think I flew out here to make sure you weren’t getting shafted because you might be my client, but you’re also my friend. You’re not gonna get a deal better than that. I don’t know who has a hard-on for you, but someone does. If you want to see your book become a movie, this is it. It really doesn’t get better than this.”

I look up at her smiling face. Her dark skin practically glows with excitement.

“You have time to think about it, but my advice is not to take too long. Deals like this come along once in a lifetime.”

“Take it.”

“Really? You’re sure?”

I chuckle. “I thought you were trying to talk me into it.”

“Oh, I am, but I want you to be one hundred percent sure.”

“I’m ninety-ninety percent sure.”

“Works for me. My flight is due soon, so I’ll email them from the airport to let them know you’re accepting their offer.”

She wraps her arms around me and gives me a squeeze. “I’m so excited for you. This is going to be amazing. I can see it now.”

I blow out a nervous breath. “I hope you’re right. Just don’t expect me to do a bunch of talk shows or press junkets. I’m not that girl.”

She waves me off. “Leave me to work my magic. We’ll figure something out.” She looks at her watch. “Shoot, I really do need to go.”

“Go. I’ll be fine. I’ll wait here until my ride gets back. He must have grabbed a coffee.”

“You sure? I’d give you a ride, but I might miss my flight.”

“I’ll be fine. Besides, I think Havoc would have a meltdown if I slipped my guard for the day and wandered back into the clubhouse without him.”

“The feminist in me wants to tear apart everything you just said, but the other part of me wants to stab you with my knitting needle and take the man for myself. Not sure what it says about me.”

“That maybe you should leave knitting to people without psychopathic tendencies.”

“No, that can’t be right.” She grins before crossing the parking lot and climbing into the rental she parked a few down from my car.

She lowers the window and calls my name as I look around for Probe.

“I’m proud of you, honey.”

“You just remember that the next time you want me to do something and I say no,” I yell back, making her laugh as she pulls away.

I shake my head and pull out my cell phone, firing off a text to Probe. I can see his bike, so I know he hasn’t gone far, but Havoc won’t be happy if he finds out he left me, even if it’s to use the bathroom.

I read messages and fiddle with my phone for a bit, but I curse when I see that I still can’t access Instagram or Facebook. I will have to get G to look at it. I wander over to my car, figuring I might as well wait inside where I can sit and run the AC. Besides, it’s safer in there, and I’m pretty sure I have a cereal bar in the glove box. I didn’t eat before the meeting because I was too nervous. Now I’m starving.

Heading toward my car, I keep my eyes peeled for anything unusual, but all seems quiet. I unlock the car and lean in to place the bag on the seat when I’m grabbed from behind. I freeze for a second and curse the universe because I did everything right, and I’m still being punished.

I drop the bag as I fight against him. A glancing blow with my elbow to his gut makes him loosen his hold. Too close to the car to get in and lock the door before he grabs me, I take off running in the other direction, across the parking lot, hoping someone will see me and help. I run down the side of a car before spinning around, using the car as a barricade between us.

“Help!” I scream at the top of my voice, hoping it will deter him. But when Driller comes into view, I know there is nothing I can say or do that will stop him. The set expression is the same one Havoc gets when he’s made up his mind about something.

“You won’t get away with this. Havoc will kill you,” I snap at him as I keep moving, feinting one way and running the other. But it’s quiet here today, and too few cars are in the lot to offer me protection.

I need to stay out of the way long enough for Probe to return. I throw caution to the wind and sprint as fast as I can to the next row of cars in the lot. I’m running in heels, but I’m fueled by terror. Even so, Driller tackles me to the ground like a linebacker, knocking the air out of me and bashing my head against the concrete. I feel my body burn in places where the skin has ripped away. I try to scream as he pins me to the ground, but I can’t get enough air into my lungs.

He grins down at me maniacally, grinding himself against me. Tears slip down my face when I realize he’s hard. My struggling is getting him off. Finally, I manage to take a breath, but when I feel the snick of a knife pressing against my throat, I know screaming is not an option.

“You keep your pretty mouth shut, and I’ll take it easy on you.”

He drags the knife up my neck to my chin before he traces it over my lips. I can tell the blade is small and narrow, but this close, he’ll still do some serious damage. I don’t move, too scared to try anything. If I were Amity, I’d have him in a fucking headlock by now instead of whimpering underneath him like a coward.

“My brother always was a fucking dumbass. This is why he should never been made president. He fucking tricked his way into that role and cheated me out of mine. He thinks I’m just going to let that go?”

My eyes flit around, looking for something, anything that will help.

He presses the knife against the corner of my eye before he lifts it and licks away my tear. The knife is back at my throat before I can process the fact he didn’t gouge my eye out when he had the chance.

“If you’re looking for your guard today, don’t bother. He won’t be coming to rescue anyone anytime soon.” He grins before dipping his head and covering my mouth with his.

I resist the urge to bite his tongue off, just waiting for a chance where I can make a run for it. He has to let his guard down sometime.

“You killed him?” I feel my heart crack at the thought of Probe being gone. I should have known something was wrong when he wasn’t outside waiting for me.

Stupid Nevaeh.

“He really has no idea what to do with a woman when he has one, does he? Fucking idiot. Let me guess. He thought I’d go after Lola first, right? After all, she’s my old lady, carrying my baby and all that shit.” He laughs, and it makes the hairs on my arms stand on end.

“She doesn’t matter. She never did. I took her because I could, but Havoc did more damage to her than I ever did. He was supposed to love her, yet he never questioned her actions. All that time together, and he just accepted that she jumped from him to me.” He shakes his head as my blood runs cold. “So insecure she changed her whole world to fit his, and then he was gone, leaving her all alone.”

“What did you do?” I whisper, not wanting to know but at the same time needing the truth.

“I didn’t give her a choice. I beat that bastard’s baby right out of her before replacing it with mine. If it’s anything like me, it will rip her apart during labor.” He laughs gleefully.

My eyes slip closed, and I cry for a woman I disliked on principle only weeks ago.

“Now I’m going to ruin you and leave you for my brother to find. I do so like breaking his toys. Be interesting if he’ll want you once I’ve been inside you. History says he’ll walk away after all.”

His free hand slips under the hem of my shirt and I thank God I wore pants instead of a skirt today. I try to wiggle away, but the hand with the knife presses a little harder against my skin. I reach up instinctively and wrap my hand around his fist, trying to stop him, but his strength is no match for mine.

“I’m gonna enjoy making you scream my name.”

His fingers reach for the button of my pants just as a figure steps up behind him. I feel my eyes widen as I stare into my father’s horrified eyes moments before he brings a rock down on the back of Driller’s head.

Driller collapses over me, his hand going slack over the knife. I cry out when it nicks my skin. I slip the knife from his hand into mine as I try to wiggle out from under him. He groans above me as my father rolls him off me.

“Run!” my father yells.

I grip the knife, realizing belatedly it’s one of those switchblade things, and get to my knees.

“Get up, Nevaeh. Get in the car and get out of here now!” He yanks me to my feet, then lets me go when there is a scuffle behind me.

My head is swimming, and I know I’m more of a liability here than a help. I flip the blade closed, shove it in my pocket, and run to my car, knowing my phone is in my bag. The door is still open, and my bag is sitting on the passenger seat. I jump in and slam the door, flipping the lock into place before reaching for the bag with shaking hands.

I freeze when I remember dropping the bag in the parking lot, scattering the contents on the ground. Before I can do anything, a rope is around my neck, pulling me back against the car seat.

There’s movement behind me as I tear at the rope with my fingers, ripping my nails in a blind panic. A click sounds, making me freeze. I’ve been around guns enough to know what a safety being removed sounds like. The rope loosens a fraction, just enough for me to drag in some air, but the press of the gun to my temple guarantees compliance.

“Back in my day, everyone knew to check the back seat. That’s what’s wrong with this generation.”

Says the man with a fucking gun.

“Put your hands on the wheel and drive. I’ll tell you where to go. If you try anything funny, I’ll blow your brains all over the dashboard.”

“Okay,” I whisper, knowing nodding my head might not be such a wise move.

He’s already put the keys in the ignition, so I start the car and move toward the exit. My father looks toward us, the rock still in his hand. His eyes flash with relief when he sees me, but they quickly shift to horror when he sees whoever is in the backseat. He starts running toward me, yelling my name.

“If you stop, I’ll shoot him. Head west toward the highway.”

I do as he asks, ignoring my dad, my tears, and my panic. I focus only on surviving.

The window opens a crack in the back. I look in the rearview mirror and see the figure wearing a hoodie covering their face, tossing my phone out the window. There goes my hope of G tracking it.

I swallow down the urge to puke and focus on the road. I’ll get my chance to make a run for it. I just have to bide my time. The pen knife burns a hole in my pocket, but I know if I try to use it now, I’ll be dead before I can even stop the car. I don’t allow myself to think about all the things that can go wrong. I’ve done enough research to know that being taken to a secondary location is the worst thing a kidnapper can do.

The rope scratches the skin of my neck, rubbing it raw, but I don’t dare take my hands off the wheel.

“Take a left here and keep the speed limit.”

I do as he asks, wondering when Havoc will know something is wrong. I told him what time the meeting was supposed to finish. It let out a little earlier than I thought, but by now, he would assume I was on my way home. When I don’t make it back, he’ll call. And when he cannot reach me or Probe, he’ll come look for me.

When he knows something is wrong, he’ll have G dig and see what he can find. Surely, in this age of CCTV, there are a dozen cameras around that caught my kidnapper on camera. All G would need is one clear shot to identify him. Once he has that, he’ll dig until he knows everything down to his underwear size. They’ll find me, and Havoc will come for me guns blazing. That’s not a doubt in my mind. The question is, will he find me in time?

I turn when he tells me to, taking a side road that is far quieter than the one we just left. I swallow and keep going, taking in everything I can around me—things that can be used to trace back to this location, things I could tell the cops if I survive.

I think of my dad. I have no idea what he was doing there today. I didn’t even know he was still in town. Our relationship might be a mess right now, but the look in his eyes when he realized what was happening to me will haunt me forever.

How will he get over this when he barely survived the first time? Every nightmare he had is coming true all over again.

“Turn off here.”

I make the turn onto a bumpy dirt road. The panic threatens to claw at my insides when I realize we’re getting closer to our destination. The road is longer than I anticipated. It takes twenty minutes before a house comes into view. A lone structure that looks like a family farmhouse, not the place where I’ll likely end up dead.

“Who are you? Why are you doing this?”

Make yourself more human to him, Nevaeh.

I need to make him see me as a person, not an object.

“Pull over here and get out. Try anything stupid, and I’ll kill you. Don’t make me do that, Nevaeh. That’s not what I want.”

I stop the car and swallow. “What do you want?” I whisper, scared of the answer.

I open the door and slip my hand into my pocket, fingering the knife as I flip it open and slip it into my sleeve. The sharp point presses to my wrist as I bend to keep the knife from slipping free.

I close the door as he climbs out and use the move to put me closer to him. With his gun, he can kill me wherever I am. With this knife, I need to be closer. I lock my legs to stop them from trembling.

He climbs out, gun pointed at me, and hoodie pulled low over his head. He closes his door and the slam makes me jump. Covering me with the gun, he uses his teeth to pull the glove from his free hand. I close my eyes for a moment when his hand reaches out almost reverently to trail over my cheek.

I open them when I realize his skin feels papery and rough. A glance at his hand shows aged skin covered in liver spots. The hoodie threw me. This man is much older than I thought.

“The missing piece, finally,” he murmurs, pleasure clear in his voice. He lets me go and lowers his hoodie.

He’s much taller than me. Too tall for me to reach anywhere important. I’m not sure the knife is big enough to do much damage to his chest, and his stomach is covered with the baggy hoodie.

My writer’s brain tells me to go for the femoral artery, and before I can second guess myself, I let the knife slip fully into my hand. I grasp it tightly, ready to make my move when I get a good look at his face.

His cold eyes belong to the homeless man from outside the diner.

The liver-spotted hands belong to the man from the book signing .

But it’s more than that. Now that I can see all of him, I realize I know him.

He smiles that creepy smile that always made me uncomfortable as a kid. “Mr. Markham?”

“Hello, little one.”

I stumble in shock but use it to get myself into position. He reaches out to steady me, lowering the gun instinctually. I use my momentum and stab the knife as hard as I can into his inner thigh, leaving it embedded in his leg. I can only pray I hit my intended target.

He drops to the ground with a bellow. I don’t hang around, not while he still has the gun clutched in his hand.

I take off running, heading for the back of the house as he fires the first shot. I know I won’t make it into the woods before he shoots me, not unless he bleeds out. Clearly, I’m not that lucky.

I need a weapon and somewhere to hide. I run up to the door and yank it open. I make it halfway down a long hallway when I notice a figure standing at the other end.

My hand covers my mouth as the ghost takes me in and does the same.

“Citlalli?”

“Nevaeh? Oh my god, what are you doing here?”

I stand frozen on the spot as I take in her white, thread-bare dress and bare feet. Around her too-thin ankle, a metal cuff and a chain limit her movements.

“Oh god, I thought you were dead,” I whisper, tears running down my face.

She stumbles toward me. “I’m not dreaming––you’re really here?”

I swipe my hand across my cheeks and run toward her, wrapping her tightly in my arms as she sobs. Pulling back, I cup her face with my hands. “We need to get out of here.”

The sound of gunfire makes us both jump. What little color she has in her gaunt face drains away.

“You can’t be here. He’ll kill you.”

“I’m not leaving without you, Citi.”

“You have to. Please just go.”

The gun fires again, splintering the wood of the door. Citi screams and runs.

“Citi, wait!” I run up the stairs after her, trying not to trip over the chain that trails behind her. I know she’s scared, but I have to make her see reason.

All those thoughts fly out of my head when I find her in one of the bedrooms with a little girl in her arms.

She looks around four or five, but it’s hard to tell with her face buried against Citi’s shoulder. It’s the color of her hair that has my stomach churning. It’s the exact shade and color as mine––as Citi’s.

“Oh, Jesus.” It’s all right there, the evidence that my sister’s been violated in the worst possible way. She’s been held captive all this time, of course, she’s been raped. I can’t?—

More gunfire snaps me out of my horror. She cradles her child protectively. I don’t know if it is from me or Mr. Markham, but I know Citi will fight tooth and bone to protect her.

“I have a niece?”

“I won’t let him hurt her. He can do what he wants to me, but I won’t let him hurt her.”

“He’ll have to go through me first,” I tell her with a snarl.

Another shot rings out, followed quickly by another.

I was too young to save Citi before, but I’m not a kid anymore. I’m an old lady to the president of the Raven Souls MC. I’ll die before I let him near my sister or niece.

“Stay here.”

I hear the gun click as he shoots, followed by two more clicks. I smile. He’s out of bullets.

“You can’t go out there, Nevaeh. He’ll kill you.”

“Not if I kill him first.”

“There are no weapons here. He took everything and then used Star to make me comply.”

“Everything’s a weapon with the right intent.”

I look around the sparsely decorated room and find nothing I can use, but when I look up, I spot the oak curtain pole, which looks exactly like the one we have back home. I push the bed until it’s under the window and reach up to unhook it. I unscrew the wide ends of the pole before I grab the curtains and yank hard until the pole slips out of the grip holding it up. I step back to avoid getting hit on the head and quickly slide the fabric from the pole.

“Yes,” I hiss, seeing it is the same––which means it’s not one pole, it’s two solid pieces that screw together in the middle. I quickly unscrew the two pieces as a voice calls up the stairs.

“If you don’t come down here now, I’ll set fire to the house and watch you all burn.” I can hear the anger in his voice, but it’s laced with pain. Good. There is more where that came from.

Once I have the pieces unscrewed, I have sections of wood a little longer than a baseball bat. It might not be the best weapon, but it’s better than nothing.

I turn to Citi, who is still holding her daughter. Gathering the curtain fabric, I hurry over to her and use the material to tie the kid to her. It’s not perfect, but at least it will leave Citi with free hands.

“Take this.” I hand her half the pole before stepping in front of her.

“You stay here unless I tell you to move. If he comes for you, give him hell. He’s an old man now, Citi, and you have a daughter who needs you to fight.”

She nods rapidly. I can see how weak she is. Lack of food and exercise have taken their toll on her. But she’s not a quitter, and a mother’s love has given birth to miracles before.

“You’re being very naughty. I’ll count down from five, and if you’re not down here by the time I get to one, someone’s going to die.”

“Fine by me.” I push all my fear down and let my anger blanket it. My sister and niece need me. There is no place for fear here.

I step out into the hallways and head to the stairs.

“Four.”

I make my way down them quietly, his counting working to my advantage because I can judge how close he is.

“Three.”

I make it to the second to last step and take a deep breath, gripping the pole like a bat.

“Two.”

Hurrying down the last step, I round the corner with the pole raised above my head. I skid to a halt when I find him standing in the kitchen with the knife still sticking out of his leg. In one of his hands is a gas can, in the other is a zippo.

“I’m so disappointed in your behavior.”

“That sounds like a you problem, you selfish fuck. You kidnapped my sister. You kept her all these fucking years when we all thought she was dead!” I yell.

“I love her,” he roars at me.

“She was just a little girl, and you raped her,” I whisper.

“She was always meant to be mine. I saw the way she looked at me, the same way you did. It was supposed to be both of you. A perfect set, but you’re fucking father kept you from me.”

I feel physically sick as all the what-ifs press down on me. “Alan Ellwick was––”

“Easy to point the finger at,” he cuts me off. “A few choice words to the right people, and everyone came running with their pitchforks. He was an old adversary of mine. Always trying to one-up me, but I got the last laugh, didn’t I?”

I tighten my grip on the pole, poised and ready to strike.

“I was going to come back for you, but your father wouldn’t let you out of his sight. In the end, I got a sick sort of pleasure out of messing with him. I spent some time inside, you know, before I moved to your street. It wasn’t for anything bad––fraud is barely a crime these days––but it did enable me to meet some interesting characters. Newton Helms, now he was fun to play with. Such a simple mind to manipulate. He was the first player in my game of ‘ Guess who took Citlalli .’ I visited others over the years and got them to play, too. It was fun watching the police scratch their heads.”

“Why bother with the game at all? Nobody knew you had her. You were home free.”

“Because I could. Because it messed your mother up so bad she killed herself, and I got to watch from the sidelines as your father fell apart,” he smiles gleefully.

I swallow down bile, taking a step closer. “You watched us?”

“We moved around a lot, I didn’t want to arouse any suspicion with the neighbors, but I always came back to check up on you. Imagine my fucking surprise when I came back, and you were not there,” he snarls.

I shuffle forward a little more as he continues to rant.

“It didn’t take me long to track you down. I was going to bring you home with me finally, but then you had to give away what was mine to a dirty fucking biker.” He spits out.

I take another step closer. “Give me the key to Citi’s shackle. I’m taking her out of this hellhole.”

“You’re not taking her anywhere. You’re both mine now. You’d do well to remember that.”

“News flash, asshole. I’m not ten anymore, and I’m not afraid of you.”

I close the distance between us, channeling every ounce of rage and indignation I feel rushing through my bloodstream. I swing the pole just as he flips the zippo, and a flame sparks to life.