Chapter 33
Thirty-Three
Itake another swig from the bottle and stare at the papers I removed from the safe in my room as a result of the phone call I just received. The same papers that have been plaguing me lately.
Maybe I’d have been better off to have left it alone rather than listening to my instincts when they kept telling me something was amiss.
It dawned on me that for Rapsody’s mom to disappear so quickly after she confronted her daughter about our engagement, she had to have already been somewhat prepared to leave at the drop of a hat. Why? What average citizen has the resources and the ability to change their identity unless they thought they might need to at some point? You don’t get fake IDs that will pass inspection at your local corner store.
That, coupled with her mom’s story of having no pictures of her pregnancy and the first eighteen months of Rapsody’s life, didn’t sit right with me. How does a woman like Rapsody’s mother—one who is so hyper focused on her daughter’s life and so controlling—not have photos of her daughter as an infant? Even if she was sexually assaulted, and it resulted in a pregnancy, how did she swing so far from one extreme—not wanting any pictures at all of the child and not connecting with the baby—to the other, becoming overbearing, heaping on the guilt to control her daughter?
Something felt off. I always trusted my instincts when I was in the military, and I wasn’t about to ignore them now.
So after Rapsody’s accident when I patched up her forehead in my bathroom, I took some of her blood from the cloth and had it tested. My private investigator who located Rapsody and her mother in the first place followed her mom around for a few days until he could get a sample to test against Rapsody’s.
And then the results came back, proving that the woman I love is not the biological daughter of the woman who raised her. And I’ve been struggling with what to do about that since.
But there’s no way I can keep the truth from Rapsody anymore. After last night, it might be the final nail in the proverbial coffin for us, but she deserves the truth. I was just afraid that if I told her, she’d take off in search of her birth parents, leaving me, which is a selfish fear.
I bring the bottle to my lips again, taking a hefty swig. I want to dull the edges of my emotions right now. Telling her is the right thing, but the idea of losing her is like a black festering pit in my chest.
She’ll leave me now. Because I found her birth parents. And I know Rapsody—she’s going to want to know them and the siblings she didn’t know she had. And by confessing the truth last night, I made it even easier for her to walk away from me.
My phone rings beside the papers I’m still staring at, but I ignore it. I don’t want to talk to anyone, unless it’s Rapsody.
She’s made no effort to come talk to me today. I swore to myself that I’d give her time to consider everything I said last night without pressuring her. She deserves that much at least.
The phone stops ringing, but seconds later, it rings again.
“What the fuck?” I grumble and pick it up without looking to see who it is. “What?” I bark into the phone.
“Sir, it’s Darren, the head of security. There’s been a breach.”
I set the bottle of booze on my desk. “What do you mean there’s been a breach?”
But I don’t hear his next words. There’s a prick in my neck, then everything goes black.
When I come to, it takes me a few minutes to become aware of my surroundings and the fact that I’m in a chair and can’t move. I’m still groggy when I open my eyes. Whoever has me obviously dosed me with something to knock me out and I’m still under its effects because I can barely keep my eyes open.
My head lolls to the side as I drift off, and a set of shoes comes into view in front of me. I force myself to open my eyes and see who it is.
There are two of them. The men look like they could be twins, but one isn’t as big as the other, so maybe they’re brothers. Either way, they’re definitely related. I commit each face to memory because these motherfuckers will pay. If not today, one day soon.
They’re wearing the same groundskeeper outfits, which gives me some clue as to how they got onto the property, but not who these fuckers are.
My head lolls forward again, whatever drug they gave me is probably mixing with the alcohol I already had in my system.
“Why isn’t he waking up? He should be awake already,” one of the guys says.
“I dunno. Get the camera set up. We need to get this going and then split,” the other says.
Then I’m out again. I’m not sure how much time passes, but I’m awoken by a stinging slap across the face.
I grit my teeth, feeling a little less groggy now. When I raise my head, there’s a phone set up on a tripod in the corner of the room. What the fuck is this all about?
Another look around the room, and I know exactly where we are. We’re still on Midnight Manor property in an old caretaker’s shed. It used to store extra supplies when the crew had to do work far from the main house, back before special utility vehicles were used to move things around the grounds. It’s probably sat empty for a decade or more at this point. Which means no one will come upon us by chance.
“Should we get started?” the guy with the slightly bigger nose says.
The other one grins, rubbing his hands together. “Let’s.”
“Are you going to tell me what Dumb and Dumber are doing on my property?” I say.
The one closest to me backhands me, and I spit out the blood filling my mouth. “You’d be wise to keep your fucking mouth shut unless we tell you to open it.”
“Bet that’s what his dad used to say to his mom before she got offed,” the guy standing farther away says.
My jaw tics, and my hands fists at the mention of my mother.
“The more you piss us off, the more it’s going to hurt until we decide to put you out of your misery.” This asshole looks so smug. I can’t wait until I get my hands on him.
The other one says, “Wonder if that sweet thing of his has a good mouth. I can imagine it wrapped around my dick. Maybe when we’re done here, you and I should go track her down and find out, Louie.”
Louiewhips his head toward the camera. “You said my name, asshole.”
These idiots clearly don’t understand who they’re fucking with. I was about to get myself out of here, but at the mention of Rapsody, I need to know what’s going on. I have to figure out who’s behind this and make sure there’s not a threat against her even after I off these two pieces of shit.
“What do you want?” I ask, wanting to get on with this so I can track down Rapsody and make sure with my own eyes that she’s safe.
“We were sent by a friend of yours to exact some justice. Seems you finally fucked with the wrong person,” Louie says with a sadistic smile.
“Jessie Wallace,” the other one says.
Fuck. The father of one of the men I killed in order to save Anabelle last year. This is about revenge.
“So you’re that old fuck’s errand boys? Figured he could afford someone better than you two idiots.”
That comment earns me another punch across the jaw. This one makes Louie shake out his hand.
“You think we don’t know how to make a man beg us to end his life? We’re mafioso, it’s what we do,” Louie says in anger, giving me another piece of his identity.
“So why didn’t you just end me back at the manor when you had the chance?”
The other guy scoffs. “Because we’re being paid to make you suffer. And he wants to watch every minute of it. Seems it’s about time to get started.”
“I think you’re right, brother,” Louie says.
I try not to roll my eyes, not enjoying my face being their punching bag, but shit, these two are complete idiots. They’ve already given me enough information to figure out who they are, and they don’t even realize it.
“Jessie sends his regards,” Louie says and punches me on the other side of my face.
I temper my reaction as blood drips down onto my pants, and pretend to pass out.
“Shit, is he already out?” the other guy says.
“’Course he is. That’s how strong my punches are.”
Louie’s breath hits my face, and I know he’s leaning in to check whether I’m still breathing or not. I use the opportunity to headbutt him. He stumbles back, holding his head.
The first mistake these fuckers made was taking me in the first place. The second was tying my wrists to the chair with duct tape. All it takes is me yanking my arms toward my chest, and the tape splits apart.
It takes me two seconds to snap Louie’s neck. He’s barely made it to the floor before I’m lunging for his brother.
The only problem is that my ankles are still taped to the chair legs, so I twist my ankle as I move forward. Ignoring the pain, I go after the brother and bring him to the floor as he pulls a gun from his waistband.
The gun is wedged between us, and despite my adrenaline, the drugs they gave me are still affecting my actions. I don’t have my usual strength, and we wrestle for the gun. I need to get it out from between us before one of us accidentally pulls the trigger, and it’s just a crap shoot as to who’s taking the bullet.
Adapt and overcome.
I might not have my usual strength, but I have years of military training to pull from. So I let him get the upper hand and roll me off of him so that he straddles me. As I expected, he adjusts the gun in his hand and points it at me, but before he can pull the trigger, I disarm him, the way I’ve done thousands of times during various training exercises.
I waste no time pulling the trigger on him and pushing him off of me. Next, I get my feet loose from the chair that’s still attached, painfully twisting my right ankle because of the angle. Once that’s done, I stumble over to the tripod and pull the phone off, ending the recording.
I know very few people’s numbers by heart, but I know Sid’s, so I call him, hoping he’s somewhere at the manor.
“You finally coming up for air from between Rapsody’s legs?” He laughs.
“Obsidian, I need your help.”
“What is it?” His mood changes from humor to determined.
“I’m in the old caretaker’s shed, and my leg is fucked up. I need you to grab one of the vehicles and pick me up.”
“What the hell is going on?” I can hear him moving, probably running through the manor.
“I’ll explain when you get here. I’m going to start back toward the house, but it will take me too long to walk on this ankle. I need you to get Asher or Nero to check on Rapsody and make sure she’s okay. Tell them not to let her out of their sight. She could be in danger.”
“Fuck. I’m on it.” He hangs up without another word.
I trek back toward the manor, hobbling along, desperate to get back to Rapsody and make sure she’s okay. I don’t like that those guys mentioned her. There has to be a reason. Rapsody and I haven’t left the property together in weeks. Have they been surveilling me that long, or do they have someone on the inside?
My ankle screams to stop, but I push the pain out of my mind the same way I had to on missions when things went wrong. There will be time to deal with my injury, but not until I have my hands on Rapsody.
The sound of an engine meets my ears before I spot one of the utility vehicles headed straight for me. Sid pulls to a stop in front of me while I slide in beside him.
He gives me the once-over before punching the gas again. “What the fuck happened to you? You look like you’ve been worked over.”
I fill him in on what went down in the shed.
He shakes his head. “Jessie Wallace is a dead man.”
I agree, but I ignore his comment for now. “Did anyone find Rapsody?”
His knuckles go white on the steering wheel, and that’s answer enough for me. “She wasn’t in her room. Everyone is searching. I told Nero to get with security and see what they can find out.”
“Drive faster.” I slam my hand on the small dash in front of me.
“I’m driving as fast as this fucking thing goes.”
“Faster!”
Sid looks at me as though I’m losing it but doesn’t say anything else.
It takes longer than I’d like to reach the manor, but when we do, Sid’s phone rings.
“Yeah?” he answers. “Who was the woman?”
“What? Tell me!” I practically roar, desperate for any information.
“Nero says security footage caught Rapsody running into the maze away from another woman.”
My stomach plummets. “What did the woman look like?”
He asks the question and waits for the answer, then looks at me as he relays the information. “Dark-brown curly hair, older.”
“Her mother.” I slam my hand on the dash. “Get over to the maze now.”
That’s how those fuckers in the shed knew about her. The three of them must be working together. But how?
Sid ends the call and hits the gas. I have to hang on so I don’t fly out of the vehicle.
“I can go in if you want. You know, if you don’t want to,” he says. “I’ll gladly take care of whoever’s threatening your woman.”
Sid might look like a gentleman in his ten-thousand-dollar suit straight from a trip to Saville Row, but he’s the epitome of a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
“No one’s going in but me. Too many people, and it might spook her. Just wait at the exit in case I send Rapsody out ahead of me. If I do, keep her safe. Do not take your eyes off her until I know if anyone else poses a threat.”
He nods, but I see the way his eyes question whether I’ll be able to do this since the maze is involved.
But there’s no question. Because there’s not a chance I’ll let my dad take away the woman I love. And if I don’t go in that maze and get her because of what he did, that’s exactly what will happen.