Chapter 24

Jake

The faint but consistent drip-drop of water is the first thing I hear, followed by the ragged sound of my breathing. My chest feels tight, my arms restrained, and when I open my eyes, lids heavy and sluggish, I find I have been strapped down in a chair with rope, and my arms restrained with duct tape.

Struggling against the fog in my mind, I try to lift my arms, but it looks like whoever did this used a whole roll of tape on each. With a persistent throb at the base of my skull sending waves of discomfort through my head, I try to remember where I am, and what happened, but it hurts to focus and think.

In front of me is a stone wall, slick with moisture and roots running along its crumbling facade, and to my right, another, with a row of yellow industrial lights strung up, casting a harsh glow. I look to my left, hoping to find a door, but when I find Jenica in a chair next to me, restrained the same way, only with ropes bound around her forearms, the memory of what happened comes crashing back to me.

"Shit, Sparky!" I thrash against my restraints, desperate to get to her, but when I hear what sounds like a door opening behind me, I freeze.

The skin on the back of my neck pricks as the hinges creak, and a wall of air hits me as it slams shut. "Mr. Chambers," a male voice says coolly. "Finally, we meet."

The sound of footsteps sends my heart pumping with adrenaline, and when a tall, thin man comes into my line of sight, I clench my fists. He's wearing a tuxedo, sans jacket, and the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up, and it takes all but one second to know who he is.

"I gather by that look in your eyes you know who I am." He stops in front of Jenica and looks down. "Which means you also know why she is here."

I stare at him, jaw tight, neither confirming nor denying, as he moves past me and comes to a stop in front of Jenica. He studies her for a second, eyes full of loathing, then reaches for her chin and yanks it up.

"Get your fucking hands off her!" I snap, wanting to rip off his arm and beat him with it.

She moans slightly and her eyelids flutter, but they don't open. If I'm still feeling the effects of whatever we were given, then it will probably take twice as long for it to wear off on her.

"Tell me, Mr. Chambers…" He drops his hand and her head slumps down. "While you and Ms. Miller were snooping around my club, did she happen to tell you why she has been working for me?"

"You mean, why you are blackmailing her?" I sneer.

"Blackmail is such an ugly word. Especially when I am simply seeking the justice my son deserved."

I can't help but laugh. "Your son was a psycho who got what he deserved."

Richardson's eyes flash as he wags his finger. "Careful, young buck. I have your future in my hands. You would be wise to remember that it is I who calls the shots here."

"You don't call shit." The fog in my mind is lifting and with it the weight in my bones. My nerve-endings are beginning to fire on all cylinders again; a burn kindled by the intrinsic need to protect the one I care about, igniting my adrenaline. "But when I get out of these restraints and shove your head up your ass, you will be eating it."

The longer I keep him talking, the less attention he will pay to Jenica, and that's my goal. I didn't like the way he looked at her just now. It was beyond antipathy. It was a dark loathing that told me he was capable of doing anything.

"Tell me," I shift in the chair, pushing against the rope. "Did your son have a fascination with roadkill when he was a kid? Hold magnifying glasses over insects on hot days?"

"So much brawn and bravado," Richardson shakes his head, looking at me in pity. "It would be admirable if it wasn't so pathetic."

I shake my head and laugh.

"Is there something funny?" he asks.

"Yeah, you."

"And what about me do you find so comical, Mr. Chambers?"

"That a man who sells young girls to old men has the nerve to call me pathetic."

I didn't see what Jenica did looking through that keyhole, but I heard enough to know he was selling young girls to older men. Men in positions of power.

He looks at me and grins. "Those girls are given a life they could never dare to dream."

"Given a life?" I repeat incredulously. "You take their lives away."

"Those girls were nothing before we saved them. But with a new look and some nice clothes, they welcomed their new purpose with open arms."

I can't believe what I'm hearing. "You're sick."

"No," he shakes his head. "The sickness is this country and places like Cherry Cove. That's why I plan to fix it."

This guy can't be serious. He's still got a martyr complex after everything that happened? Unbelievable.

"Face it, Mr. Chambers," he continues. "Ms. Miller was born to serve a purpose. And now that she is mine, she will fulfill it."

"She is not yours." I clench my teeth in anger. "If you think I am going to let you or any of your pervy friends touch her…"

He comes over and grips my forearms, leaning in. "You won't have a choice. After tonight, you will never see her again. She will have a new name and a new identity. She will be as good as dead to you."

"You piece of shit." I jerk in the chair, trying to get free.

"He's…not…worth it," Jenica says sleepily.

Richardson's eyes whip over as do my own; a rush of relief hits me, seeing she's coming to. It's short-lived when I see Richardson pull back and shift his attention from me to her.

"Ah," he smiles. "There she is. Miss Delta Dawn. The most expensive piece of ass in Georgia."

Jenica tries to lift her head, as her fingers twitch. The two have not yet found their connection; her mind is not in control of her body. "Fuck you," she slurs.

"Do not talk to her," I bite out. "Talk to me."

"Now, now," Richardson holds up his hand. "One at a time. Although," he turns to Jenica again, a sick smile pulling his thin lips, "you may want to learn how to focus on two men at once, Ms. Miller. I hear that is a particular liking of Clegg's."

Jenica lifts her head and opens her eyes. I don't know what they gave us, but she looks high as hell. Her eyes are glassy and her cheeks are ruddy. "You think… I'll let…anyone touch me?" She lets out a weak laugh. "Clearly…don't know…me."

Even tranq'd like a horse, Jenica is a fighter, and I love it, I do. I would never silence her. But I wish she would have stayed asleep because men like Richardson get off on control and power, and sitting in that chair, as drugged up as she is, Jenica is a sitting duck.

"You are just like your mother," Richardson says almost regretfully. "Beautiful but headstrong. He is going to love taming you."

"Don't…talk about…my mother," she grits out. Her voice is stronger, and her hands are now gripping the end of the arms of the chair.

"You have always been like her," he continues. "Feisty and spirited. Even as a girl. You were born with a face that could have given you the world other than the one you were born into. But here's the thing, Ms. Miller, you were born into that world. Against your mother's better judgment, she saw to it you did not get the world you could have had, so her choice is your cross to bear."

"What the hell are you talking about?" I ask, angrily.

Richardson looks to me, tilting his head curiously. "Did Ms. Miller not tell you that we know one another? Beyond the whole murder thing that is."

I look over at Jenica and her head lolls slightly. The muscles in her neck have not yet fully recovered. I wonder if she thinks this is a dream. I wish it were.

"Ms. Miller's mother was the town beauty," Richardson explains. "Dawn Raylene Miller, or Bell, as she was known in those days, had a face that could have been in the movies. Won every pageant she entered, except the one that could have changed her life. Tell me, Ms. Miller, didn't you ever wonder why your father hates me so?"

Jenica takes a shallow breath and licks her lips. "You swindled the land that our store is on from him."

"That is what you believe," he nods. "But I did not swindle that land. Your father signed it over to me."

"You're lying," she sits up, pushing against the ropes around her chest. "He wouldn't do that."

"He would if it meant protecting your mother."

Jenica looks at me and when her eyes find mine, I see the recognition in her eyes. I don't know her parents, but from what I do know about her family, it doesn't sound as if Richardson is wrong. Her father would do anything for his daughter, so I know he would move Heaven and Earth for her mother.

"He hates you because you want what you can't have." She turns back to Richardson, clearing the gravel from her voice. "You don't think I haven't seen the way you look at my Momma? Please," she rolls her eyes. "It's pathetic. Like a dog in heat. Looking for a bitch, as if you didn't have two at home."

Richardson's eyes flash and I can't help but grin. That's my girl. Fight back, Sparky.

"Well," Richardson says slowly, clearly trying to maintain his composure. "You are right about one thing, Ms. Miller. I never had a piece of ass that was quite as sweet as your mother's."

Jenica leans forward, and spits. "Fuck you!" she yells as it lands on his chin and drops down to his shirt.

Richardson runs a hand down his face, then reaches out and grabs her by the throat. "Get your fucking hands off her!" I shout as she thrashes in the chair, struggling to breathe.

"Your mother never told you that we knew one another, did she?" He leans in, gripping her neck harder. "No, of course not. Why would she? I am the big bad in her story."

"Let go!" I scream. "She can't breathe!"

Richardson bares his teeth, a piddle of spit dripping down the side, then closes his eyes and lets go. Jenica coughs, and gasps for air, dragging in one deep breath, followed by another.

"I'm going to kill you," I promise, my heart pounding against my ribs as my fear for her ratchets up to a level I've never felt before. "When I get free, and I will, you better run you spineless piece of shit."

He ignores me, his focus only on Jenica, and it's then I see it. This is not about her or Royce. It is a vendetta. One not unlike that which created Elmhurst, only instead of being born out of greed, this one was born from something else entirely.

"I loved your mother," he says stoically. "Offered her a future beyond her wildest dreams. But she turned it down because she had already given her heart to another. Imagine, if she had accepted my offer, you may have been my daughter. That boy you killed could have been your brother."

"You may have loved my mother," she laughs, ignoring his sick, twisted thought. "Everyone does. But she never loved you. She never even looked at you. You have never been anything more than another Elmhurst asshole that thinks they own the world."

"Mmm," he considers her response. "Sometimes it hurts to look at what we could have had. Perhaps it was not that your mother did not want to look at me, rather, could not. I imagine Mr. Chambers will come to understand this when he looks at your picture years from now."

"Keep talking shit," I clench my jaw, "it's going to be a joy to shut you up."

As he focuses on Jenica, I continue pushing against the rope around my chest. It has loosened some, and the tape beginning to give.

"I really wanted to place that crown on her head," he says with feigned regret. "That is a pageant judge's honor, after all. But when she chose your father, she sealed her fate. A life of unfilled dreams that she passed to you."

Jenica is strong, but the truth when it hurts can be crushing, and I see it grinding her down right before me. Dreams were once all she had, and lost dreams sting, even to the girl with more strength than anyone I know. That's why I know hearing Richardson took her mother's dreams away, cuts deep. I need to get out of this chair. Shut up that sleazy mouth before he shatters her beyond repair.

"But maybe there is a winner in your family, after all, Ms. Miller. You have just bagged Senator Warren Clegg, the soon to be GOP candidate in this year's Presidential election."

"Candidate?" I question. "The GOP already announced their candidate. The debates have begun."

Richardson turns to me, looking both surprised and impressed. "You watch the news?"

"Go to hell," I roll my eyes.

"Clegg will step in when the current candidate is no longer able to run," he explains. "A series of unfortunate secrets will come to light, forcing the GOP to shift their support to Clegg."

"What do I have to do with it?" Jenica asks, brow furrowed in confusion.

"You are my prize," he grins. "Like the others, you are a piece on the chess board. With my girls in place, you each will pull the levers to the most powerful democracies in the world."

I don't like the way he's looking at her. If evil had a face, it would be the asshole standing across from me."How does being a pimp give you power?"

He turns to me, flashing a vicious smile. "When Clegg is voted into office, I will have the leader of the free world in my pocket, young buck."

"So this is about Elmhurst?" I shake my head. Cruz was right. They didn't take that shit lying down. Richardson has been lying in wait this whole time, waiting for the moment to strike back, and he's using Jenica to do it.

"No," he laughs. "This is not about Elmhurst. This is about the world."

"The world?" I repeat.

" Ex Multis Paucis. A dream that did not die when that little bitch, Ellery Magnolia Butler, decided to bite the hand that has fed her. It lives on with a bigger, better purpose. One all those with the blood of Elmhurst will drive and fulfill in the years to come."

This guy is crazy. He sounds like a dictator. And we've all seen what happens when men with evil machinations come into power.

"With the end of the Cold War a new day awaits," he continues proudly. "One where a world is united under one order, and you, Ms. Miller, will help me keep the leader of one of its most important nations in line to ensure that every dream, every desire I have is fulfilled."

"Why me?" her voice shakes.

"Why not you?" he counters. "You would do anything to save your friends and family would you not? You were the pawn that fell into my hands. A gift that keeps on giving. And you will give Clegg anything he wants. And when you do, he will in turn give me what I want."

"So your agreement?" she swallows. "It was all just a ploy to get me here?"

"Mmm, yes," he confirms. "I needed my customers to see the merchandise and drive up the bids."

"You can sell her." My eyes widen in horror. "She is not some piece of property you can barter."

"Oh, but I can," he grins. "Thanks to Petrov and other foreign interests, I have connections all over the world that will curry any favor I ask in exchange for flesh. You would not believe the democracies that have already bought into my vision. It's incredible what a young girl can buy."

"I hate you," Jenica says icily.

"I know you do. But here's the thing…I hate you too. You took my son away from me. My son!" He brings a fist to his chest, eyes blazing. "You have no idea what that feels like. You have no idea how it feels, to have the spitting image of the woman who broke your heart, break it a second time!"

"I am not my mother!" she shouts back. "I did not wrong you. I did you a service. Your son was sick! He thought he could kidnap and murder innocent girls."

"Murder?" His brows push up. "My son did not murder anyone."

"You're either delusional or stupid. Maybe a little of both because that night, before he died, he confessed. Why don't you see if that was on the security footage you so gleefully procured?"

"The only one that is delusional here is you," he says plainly. "You think you are getting out of here? Think again. The best you can hope for is to shut your mouth and spread your legs."

A lone tear rolls down her cheek and I swear to God, I'm going to end this fucker.

"Face it, Ms. Miller. You are a pawn in a game older than you. A poor girl whose life has no value. When you are gone, no one will miss you. Just as they did not miss the others. All they once were, nothing more than a photo on a flier, which has weathered and floated away."

"You're going to pay for this," I flex my forearm, feeling the tape give. "I am going to kill you."

"Well, if the bitch is capable, so is the dog."

He laughs and I don't think I have wanted to kill anyone as much as I did at this very moment. Now I know what Cruz felt that night on the beach. That need to protect the person that meant most to him in this world, no matter what it cost. It brought an unspeakable rage to the surface. One that was capable of doing anything, because it had before.

With adrenaline pumping through me, I lift my arms and break through the duct tape, pushing the chair back with one kick. Richardson jumps back in surprise but my reach is enough to knock him off his feet with a sharp uppercut. He falls back, then down, out cold.

I turn around quickly, bending down in front of Jenica, untying the rope holding down her arms. Once they're free, she throws her arms around my neck. With one hand on the back of her head, and the other wrapped around her waist, I run to the door.

After yanking it open, we pass through and I look around. It looks like the tunnel from earlier, which means we're still at the club. With nowhere to go but forward I want to run as far and as fast as I can. Yet, I can't help but think if I don't go back into that room and end this, we will always be looking over our shoulders—our present forever tied to the past, unable to move into that future we both deserve.

"Can you stand?" I pull back to look at her. Her eyes are wide and crazed, but she nods.

Setting her down gently, I cup her face, scanning it quickly. There's mascara running down her cheeks and her eyes are bloodshot, but she looks okay. Her heart, however, that's another story.

"Sparky," I brush both thumbs under her eyes. "I need you to listen to me. I need you to run down that tunnel and not look back. Do not do anything but put one foot in front of the other. When you reach the stairs, you get to my car. Here," I reach into my front pocket and grab the keys. "It's a white Pontiac. Parked in front. You drive as fast as you can and do not stop. Do you understand me?"

She shakes her head, eyes frantic. "Please," I beg, pressing my forehead to hers. "I need you to go."

She grips both of my forearms, nails digging into the shards of duct-tape hanging from the sleeves of my sweatshirt. "I'm not going without you."

He won't stop. If Langston Richardson gets out of here alive, he will blow Jenica's world apart, and I can't have that. I won't. They will hunt her, just like they did Ellery. Family protects family, and I have to protect mine and end this for good.

"I have to finish this." I grab her hands and kiss each. "I need to."

"No!" She grips my hands and pulls me toward her. "Let the police handle this."

"Why, so they can take a payoff from that son of a bitch?" It's clear there are a lot of players in this little operation of Richardson's. How does a place like this exist without help from the local authorities? "We don't know who we can trust. Ellery may have blown Elmhurst to bits, but what remains has grown desperate. We have to stop him. Cut off the head of the snake."

"When we do, another will grow in its place," she pushes back. "Law of the jungle, Hot Shot. Survival of the fittest, and that asshole will make sure it's he who survives, and not you."

"Well," I shrug, "I'd rather die trying than not try at all."

"Jake…"

"Sparky, please," I close my eyes. "I need to know you're safe."

She grabs my hands more urgently. "I will be if you come with me."

The fear in her eyes is too much. "Please, Jenica. If you care about me, you will go."

I let go of her hands and step back, turning for the door. "Jake!" she cries out. "Don't do this."

I stop and look over my shoulder, needing one last look at the girl that stole my heart. "You are the best thing that ever happened to me, Sparky, remember that."

Before she can follow, I turn and stalk into the room and slam the door, reaching for one of the chairs, and sliding it under the doorknob. Hearing her fists pound on the other side, I turn and look at the man on the floor.

"I said you were going to pay," I storm over to him and look. Clenching both of my fists, my knuckles pop, anxious. "It's time to pay the piper."

Jenica calls my name, the terror in her voice reaching into my chest. I want to open the door and run with her. But I can't let this go. I have to end this. For her, and everyone else this piece of scum has hurt.

With my heart pounding in my chest, I crouch down and a calm, cool stillness wraps around my bones. That night on the beach I went into protection mode for my friends, doing something I never thought I would—cover up a murder. But now, I was in another mode altogether. I wasn't just protecting a friend. I was protecting the girl I loved.

I knew what I felt now wasn't just adoration and loyalty but both. I loved Jenica, with every breath in me, and the need to keep her safe mattered more to me right now than anything. I knew what I had to do and I was prepared to do it. That is what you do for those you love. You do whatever needs to be done, consequences be damned.

Richardson starts to stir, spitting on the ground, before pushing up and leaning his back against the wall. "So, you're going to make me pay, huh?" He laughs, then spits.

"Tell me…" I rest my forearms on my knees. "Ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?"

Richardson runs a hand over his head slicking his hair back. "Son, you have no idea who you are—"

I cock my fist back and nail him in the throat. He clutches his neck, wheezing. "I could have crushed your windpipe but luckily for you I've got incredible restraint. You see I've spent my life perfecting it."

"Pussy," he grounds out.

I pull my fist back and nail him a second time, this time in the nuts. He howls and grabs his crotch. "What the fuck?"

"What the fuck? What the FUCK?" I seethe. "You thought you could sell my girl to the highest bidder? MY GIRL!"

"She is not your girl. Not anymore. She belongs to—"

I hit him hard a third time, cutting him off. "That girl you've been blackmailing…she belongs to me. ME! Not you! But she is not my object. She is my equal. My partner. And she means more to me than anything."

Richardson spits onto the ground, a mixture of spit and blood. "She's not worth it. She is a tease, just like her mother."

I deliver a right hook that sends his head swinging to the left. "Don't say her mom's name again. Do you hear me?"

"Or what?" He laughs maniacally. "That girl is a—"

"Ah-ha," I hold up a finger. "Watch it."

"Or what? You're going to kill me? You don't have it in you."

"See now that's the thing," I grin. "I do. It's in my DNA. Nature over nurture mother fucker."

"Very well then," Richardson spits again. "Let's turn you both into murderers. Whore," he says simply. "That girl is a whore, nothing more."

And that's all it takes to send his head flying a fourth and final time.