24. Collateral Damage
Chapter 24
Collateral Damage
C onsciousness came back like a bad hangover - all pounding head and cotton-mouth, minus the fun memories of whatever caused it. The first thing I noticed was the smell. Hay and damp wood with a distinctive eau de cow that suggested I definitely wasn't in Kansas anymore. Or my apartment, for that matter.
My wrists burned, and it took my foggy brain a moment to realize why - rope, tight enough to make my fingers tingle. Real rope, not the fun kind Nina used for western-themed parties at The Watering Hole. This was the serious stuff, the kind that meant whoever tied it knew what they were doing.
Great. Just great.
I tried to move and immediately regretted it. My body felt like it had gone ten rounds with Melody in a bad mood, which was saying something considering she once knocked Ethan into a mud puddle for wearing the wrong cologne. The memory of him, covered in mud but still somehow looking unfairly attractive, hit harder than any physical pain.
Ethan. Was he okay? The last thing I remembered was leaving work, then... nothing. Just fragments of shouting and the peculiar sensation of falling. Had they gone after him too? The thought sent panic shooting through my chest, making it hard to breathe.
Focus, Jimmy. One crisis at a time.
My eyes slowly adjusted to the gloom. The space looked like an abandoned barn, moonlight filtering through gaps in the wooden walls. Old farm equipment cast strange shadows, and something that might have been a tractor lurked in the corner like a sleeping metal beast.
A groan from beside me nearly made me jump out of my skin. I wasn't alone. There, slumped against a support beam, was a sight that made my already churning stomach do additional acrobatics.
Gary. My father. Looking considerably worse for wear, with blood matting his hair and what promised to be some spectacular bruising around his eyes.
The conflicting emotions hit like a tidal wave - hatred for the man who'd abandoned me, who'd left me drowning in his debts and broken promises, warring with an instinctive concern that made me hate myself a little. Because no matter what he'd done, seeing him hurt made something in my chest ache.
My head throbbed, and suddenly memories crashed through the walls of my amnesia like breaking glass: Mom's funeral, rain soaking through my too-thin suit because Gary had pawned my good one. The way he'd disappeared right after, leaving nothing but a stack of medical bills and a note saying he'd “figure something out.” Me at eighteen, working three jobs to keep the debt collectors at bay, falling asleep in class because night shifts were the only way to make enough to cover his gambling debts.
The memories kept coming, sharp and clear now - Gary showing up at Rosewood with another scheme, another promise, another way to ruin everything I'd built. The look on Ethan's face when he found out about my father's latest “investment opportunity.” The way everything had fallen apart after that.
Funny how a knock to the head could bring back all the memories I'd rather stayed lost.
“Dad?” The word tasted bitter, but old habits died hard. “Hey, come on. Wake up. This really isn't the time for your usual disappearing act.
He stirred slightly, face contorting in pain. In the dim light, he looked older than I remembered - more gray in his hair, more lines around his eyes. Or maybe that was just the blood and bruises talking.
“Jimmy...” His voice came out rough, barely above a whisper. “You... shouldn't be here.”
“Yeah?” I couldn't keep the bite from my words. “Whose fault is that? Because I distinctly remember planning to spend my evening catching up on paperwork and spoiling my cat, not starring in 'Father-Son Bonding: The Horror Movie Edition.'”
He tried to sit up and immediately winced. “Still got that smart mouth, I see.”
“Well, someone had to maintain the family traditions. Since you were busy with your own - what was it this time? Another 'sure thing' investment? Another deal gone wrong?”
The bitterness surprised even me. I thought I'd moved past this - past him. But apparently being tied up in a creepy barn with your estranged father really brought out the old wounds.
“It's... complicated,” he managed.
“When isn't it with you?” My laugh came out harsh. “Let me guess - you owe the wrong people money again. Made promises you couldn't keep. The usual Greatest Hits of Gary Reed's Greatest Mistakes.”
He had the grace to look ashamed, though it was hard to tell under the blood and bruising. “Jimmy, I... I never meant for you to get involved.”
“No, you never do. And yet somehow I always end up cleaning up your messes.” The rope was starting to really burn now, but the physical pain was almost welcome - a distraction from the emotional tornado brewing in my chest. “Though I have to say, this is a new low even for you. What happened to just leaving IOUs and disappearing in the middle of the night?”
A sound outside made us both freeze. Footsteps, heavy and purposeful, approaching the barn door. His dad’s face went even paler, which I wouldn't have thought possible given his current complexion.
“Listen to me,” he whispered urgently. “When they come in, don't... don't tell them anything.”
“What are you talking about?”
But his head had already slumped forward again, either from pain or convenient timing - it was always hard to tell with his dad.
The footsteps grew closer, and suddenly I found myself praying - not for myself, but for Ethan. Praying he was safe, that he was looking for me, that he'd figure out whatever mess my father had dragged us into this time.
Because that's what his father did - he created messes that other people had to clean up. And somehow, despite everything, despite all my attempts to break free from his orbit, I was still getting pulled into his chaos.
The barn door creaked open, letting in a shaft of moonlight that did nothing to illuminate the situation. But as heavy boots approached our corner, one thought kept circling in my mind:
At least Luna was safe with Caleb. And if I made it out of this, I was definitely upgrading her to the fancy cat food she'd been eyeing at the pet store.
Assuming, of course, that his father’s latest disaster didn't get us both killed first.
A slow clap echoed through the barn, the kind of dramatic entrance even small-town theater would consider over the top. Harsh light suddenly flooded our corner, making me wish I'd paid more attention when Nina lectured about proper stage lighting techniques - at least then I'd know how to look good while being dramatically illuminated in a hostage situation.
The man who emerged from the shadows looked like he'd raided a Bond villain's wardrobe sale - sleek black suit sans shirt (because apparently evil masterminds don't believe in proper business attire), and hair so perfectly styled it probably had its own insurance policy. Two human mountains flanked him, their suits straining against muscles that definitely weren't achieved through Oakwood Grove's local gym membership.
“Welcome, Jimmy.” His voice dripped with the kind of practiced menace that suggested he practiced monologues in his mirror. “I am Gianluca Moretti. Your father and I have... business arrangements.”
Great. Not just a villain, but one who paused dramatically mid-sentence. This day just kept getting better.
“Let me guess,” I drawled, channeling my inner Nina-dealing-with-difficult-customers voice, “you're the reason he's been even more absent than usual from the Father of the Year competition?”
Moretti's laugh was like expensive whiskey laced with arsenic. “Oh, I like this one, Gary. So much more spirit than you led me to believe.” He circled us slowly, every movement calculated for maximum theatrical effect. “Though I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. After all, he was worth quite a lot in our negotiations.”
My brain stuttered on that last part. “I'm sorry, what negotiations?”
Instead of answering, Moretti grabbed Gary's hair, yanking his head back with unnecessary flourish. My father's pained gasp made something in my chest constrict, despite everything.
“Tell him, Gary.” Moretti's smile was all teeth. “Tell your son about our little arrangement. About how you offered him as collateral for your debts.”
The words hit like ice water. I turned to my father, hoping to see denial, resistance, anything. Instead, he wouldn't meet my eyes.
“Don't... hurt him,” Gary managed, voice barely a whisper. “Please. I'll get the money.”
“Dad?” The word came out smaller than I meant it to. Younger. Like I was eighteen again, finding another empty house, another apologetic note.
“How touching.” Moretti released Gary's hair with a dramatic flourish. “Father trying to protect son. Though a bit late for that, wouldn't you say? Considering you're the one who led us right to him.”
My mind raced through implications, each worse than the last. “So what, I'm supposed to be impressed by this whole production? The creepy barn, the dramatic lighting, the hired muscle? Hate to break it to you, but I've seen better staging at The Watering Hole's karaoke nights.”
One of the muscle mountains actually cracked a smile before Moretti's glare shut him down. Score one for small-town snark.
“Your father owes me quite a substantial sum,” Moretti continued, clearly annoyed at having his villain moment disrupted. “But more importantly, he owes me information. Information that somehow ended up in your possession.”
“Sorry to disappoint, but amnesia patient here.” I nodded toward my head. “Can barely remember my coffee order most days, let alone whatever schemes he's gotten mixed up in.”
Moretti's smile turned predatory. “Oh, but that's exactly why you're so valuable. You see, your father here managed to hide some very important files before his... accident. Files that might have found their way to you before your own unfortunate memory loss.”
The way he said “accident” made my blood run cold. Beside me, Gary had gone completely still.
“And now,” Moretti spread his arms like a demented game show host, “here we all are. One big happy family reunion. Though I must admit, I'm disappointed Ethan Cole couldn't join us. He would have made this so much more interesting.”
My heart stopped at Ethan's name. “Leave him out of this.”
“Oh?” Moretti's eyebrow rose with practiced precision. “Touching a nerve, am I? Don't worry - your boyfriend is safe. For now. Though I imagine he's quite concerned about your whereabouts.”
The thought of Ethan searching for me, worried and probably breaking every traffic law between here and New York, made my chest ache. But it also sparked something else - determination. Because Ethan didn't give up easily, and neither did I.
“You know what's funny?” I managed a smile that probably looked more like a grimace. “Everyone keeps telling me what a mess Past Jimmy was. How he got tangled up in other people's problems, trying to fix everything. But you know what else they say?”
Moretti actually looked interested despite himself. “Do tell.”
“They say he was really good at causing trouble for people who deserved it.” I met his gaze steadily. “Guess some things don't need memory to stick around.”
His smile faltered slightly - just enough to show the first crack in his polished facade. Good. Because if I was going down, I was taking his theatrical villain act with me.
And somewhere out there, Ethan was coming. That was one memory I didn't need my brain to confirm. Some things you just knew, deep in your bones, like muscle memory or the way your heart recognizes home.
I just had to stay alive long enough for him to find us. And make sure my father's latest disaster didn't get us all killed in the meantime.
“Still got that defiant look down, I see.” Moretti circled us again, reminding me of Luna stalking a particularly annoying moth. “Tell me, does it come naturally, or did you practice it in the mirror like your father practices his excuses?”
“What can I say? Small town bartending really hones your 'dealing with jerks' expression.” I forced my voice to stay steady despite the fear churning in my gut. “Though usually they're just trying to avoid their bar tabs, not playing discount movie villain.”
His smile tightened at the edges. Good. At least my talent for irritating people hadn't been affected by the amnesia.
“You know what I find fascinating?” He stopped directly in front of me, close enough that I could smell his obscenely expensive cologne. “How someone like Ethan Cole - brilliant, wealthy, powerful Ethan Cole - could be so thoroughly distracted by someone like you.”
My heart stuttered at Ethan's name, but I kept my face neutral. “Maybe he just has good taste in small-town charm.”
“Or maybe,” Moretti's voice dropped lower, “he sees what I see - leverage. Walking, talking, perfectly packaged leverage.”
The implications hit like a physical blow. This wasn't just about Gary's debts or mysterious files. This was about Ethan.
“If you think I'm going to help you get to him-“
“Oh, Jimmy.” His laugh was glass breaking. “You already have. Do you really think your disappearance hasn't sent him into a panic? That he's not already mobilizing every resource at his disposal to find you?”
Images flashed through my mind - Ethan in full CEO mode, probably terrorizing half of New York trying to track me down. The thought made my chest ache.
“So here's how this plays out.” Moretti gestured to one of his guards, who pulled out a knife that definitely wasn't for opening letters. “You have a choice to make.”
Gary made a strangled sound beside me. “Don't... please...”
“Option one,” Moretti continued as if my father hadn't spoken, “you come with me willingly. Play nice. Keep dear old dad breathing a while longer. Help me get what I want from you.”
The guard moved closer to Gary, blade catching the harsh light.
“Or option two - watch daddy dearest find out exactly how sharp that knife is. Either way,” his smile turned predatory, “you're coming with me. The only question is how much blood gets shed in the process.”
“You're insane.” The words came out shakier than I meant them to.
“I prefer 'opportunistic.' And you, Jimmy Reed, are one hell of an opportunity.”
Gary suddenly lurched forward, straining against his bonds. “Take me instead. Please. He doesn't know anything-“
“Dad, shut up,” I snapped, because even now, even after everything, he was still trying to run cons. Still trying to talk his way out of messes he'd created.
“Touching.” Moretti nodded to the guard, who pressed the knife against Gary's throat. “But ultimately irrelevant. Your son is worth far more than you ever were, Gary. Ironic, isn't it?”
My mind raced through options, each more impossible than the last. If I went with them, I'd be used against Ethan. If I refused... I glanced at my father, at the thin line of blood now appearing on his neck.
“Time's up,” Moretti announced with theatrical flair.
I saw the second guard move behind me too late. Pain exploded across the back of my head, and my last thought before darkness claimed me was of Ethan - hoping he'd forgive me for choosing family over sense one last time.
Then everything went black, and even that hope faded away.