Wicked Stalker (Captives of the Onyx Brotherhood #1)

Twenty-Three

Eve

It shouldn’t hurt like it does, the way Gabriel’s face crumples as Kendrick delivers the bad news with all the compassion of a robot. I shouldn't care that his dark eyes fill with tears he quickly swipes away. He’s my captor. He brought me to this creepy, messed-up place and ripped away my life. I should be glad to see him suffer.

But I’m not.

He turns away from Kendrick, fists clenched. His shoulders shake, tension rippling through them as his breaths come in ragged harsh gasps. “If we’d just transferred the money…”

“Gabriel, no. By the time you called me, the police were already surrounding the building. It all happened too fast. There’s nothing anyone could have done.”

“Bullshit!” He slams his fist into the wall. I jerk back from the thick, percussive sound.

Kendrick walks to Gabriel, and there’s a moment of hesitation before he lays a hand on his shoulder. “The blame lies with Liam Richardson, the loan shark responsible. Also dead in the shootout. None of it falls on your shoulders. ”

Gabriel doesn’t respond. Kendrick glances to the ceiling before speaking again, almost nervous. Maybe he’s human after all. “And it might be too soon for me to say this, but your father was a grown man who chose to associate with such a person. It wasn’t your responsibility to stop him, although I imagine you’ll feel guilt for that, too.”

Again, no response. Kendrick gives his back a manly pat, then fixes his gaze on me. “This is going to be a hard time for him. Don’t create more issues.”

There’s a warning there. Subtle but definite. It screeches across my nerves. Screw him and his warning. If this bunch of psychos hadn’t kidnapped me, I wouldn’t be here to “create more issues.”

If Gabriel notices, he doesn’t respond. I don’t expect him to, because he’s suffering. His pain fills the room in choking waves. He’s human. A real person with feelings. Not like that creep Kendrick.

“I’ll send your friends around. Sebastian and Jacob. We’ve taken care of the police investigation and expedited the funeral. It will be in a week. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

With that, he leaves us.

I don’t know what to do. If it were Billie, I’d rush over and give her a hug. I’d grab a big bowl of ice cream, and we’d sit on the sofa together while she cried it out. But I don’t have a reference point for this. It’s too strange a situation. “My kidnapper is grieving—what now?” isn’t a self-help book that would sell many copies.

But I have to do something. Whatever he’s done, I can’t leave him standing there alone. Even given all the evidence to the contrary, I don’t believe he’s a monster.

I walk over to him slowly, in case he has another burst of anger. I trust him not to direct it at me, but there are a lot of inanimate objects around that might take the brunt of it. When I reach him, I touch his elbow, careful not to startle him.

“Gabriel?”

He spins to face me. His eyes are red from where he’s rubbed away tears, and his usually pale face holds a deep flush. For a moment, I think he’s going to yell, to tell me to get out of his face. But he only stares at me, a dazed look on his face.

I take his hand. “Come and sit down.”

He moves to the sofa like a puppet, then sits down heavily on it and puts his head in his hands. We sit for a while until he finally looks at me. “It feels fake, like it hasn’t really happened.”

I know what he means. I’ve been battling the same sense of unreality since I woke up in Gabriel’s bed. I think of making the comparison but don’t. I’m not interested in scoring points in the trauma Olympics.

His posture is defensive, all hard, stiff lines. I lay my hand on his thigh and try to break the horrible silence. “What was he like? When you were young, I mean.”

Gabriel smiles sadly. “He and Mom split up when I was a baby. I spent every other weekend with him. I used to love it. No bedtime, all the sugar, watching the movies Mom wouldn’t let me see. He bought a PlayStation even though he wasn’t into video games, just so we could play together.”

He looks away. “That’s when I was a kid. I think he sorted himself out for a while after Mom kicked him out. Stopped the gambling. But he started again when I was older, and it changed him. He was always angry. Used to yell if I asked for anything, saying he wasn’t made of money. He sold the PlayStation.”

His face twists at the memory. Maybe we’re not so different. “After a while, I stopped wanting to go. My mom encouraged me for a while but then gave up. For the last ten years, I haven’t seen him all that much. A few times a year. And he didn’t speak to me much until recently.”

A coldness creeps into his voice. A harsh, bitter note. “He heard from someone that I’d got a great new job, then asked me for a loan to try and get himself sorted out. I thought I was helping him. But then he asked again and again. I’m a fucking idiot. I should have done something.”

“No. It’s not your fault. Kendrick was right about that, at least.”

He must have caught the distaste in my voice, as a shadow of amusement passes over his features. “You really hate him.”

“He’s vile. But that’s beside the point. Your dad made his own choices. And it sounds like he made them a long time ago.” I pause, questioning whether I should say the next part. “You know about my mom? How she was with me?”

Gabriel’s gaze sharpens. “Yes. And it makes me sick.”

“I used to think I could change how she treated me. That if I could just convince her I was good, she’d love me properly.” My voice wavers, but I press on.

“Before I left, though, I realized it was impossible. She’s the person she is, and no matter what I do, she’ll never change. It’s the same with your dad. His addiction was a part of him. There’s nothing you could have done.”

He grunts, and it sounds almost like agreement. His hand wraps mine and squeezes. With a jolt, I realize I’ve just told him something more personal than I’ve ever told anyone except Billie. What convinced me to do so?

Another buzz at the door shatters the moment.

“Open up.” I think I recognize Sebastian’s voice. “We’ve got that nasty cheap Fireball whiskey you like. I felt dirty ordering it. ”

Gabriel looks at me, and his eyes are focused for the first time. He gives my chest an appraising look and stands. “I won’t be able to get rid of them. You need to put on a different T-shirt and a bra. I won’t have them ogling you.”

He gets to his feet, though he moves like his limbs are heavy, and opens the closet. He chooses a much looser, plain black T-shirt and a boring black bra. Sensible. The sort of thing I’d have worn for lab work. It makes me feel better somehow. These are practical clothes, for doing things in, not how you’d dress a living sex doll.

Gabriel’s friends enter, and there are a lot of awkward bro hugs and back patting. Sebastian navigates the kitchen with the ease of someone who has been here a lot, pulling out shot glasses and pouring out drinks. He lines up four, then, at a pointed look from Jacob, asks, “Is she allowed one?”

Allowed. The word spikes its way along my nerves, a reminder of what I am here. Gabriel looks confused for a moment, as if he’d forgotten too, then waves a hand. “Of course. If she wants one.”

Sebastian raises the glass toward me with a questioning look, and I take it. The guys all shoot theirs, Sebastian with a grimace, then watch me expectantly. I lift it to my lips and, spurred on for some reason by their watching eyes, pour it down my throat.

It burns.

Tears spring to my eyes, and I cough as male laughter fills the air. It’s not mean, though, more as if they’re letting me in on the joke. Gabriel brings me a tissue. “It gets everyone the first time. You get used to it.”

“No thanks,” I manage, and it raises another brief smile, something to offset the heavy grief. I like seeing it .

Jacob pours out four more shots. “It's called Fireball, and Sebastian hates it too. But only because a bottle doesn't cost more than a car. He likes to pretend he's cultured.”

Sebastian spreads his hands out theatrically. “I’m surrounded by peasants. All the money in the world, and look at how they dress.” He surveys Gabriel and Jacob with enough dismay to make me smile.

We take seats at the kitchen table, and despite the completely bizarre situation, conversation starts to flow. Gabriel needs it and, I realize as I take my third shot, maybe I do, too. Something to shake a tiny bit of normality into my world.

The alcohol makes me bold, and I ask the question that's been eating me up. “So, do you have Wards? Captive women at home just waiting for you?”

Awkward silence falls as everyone stares at me, but I don't back down. Finally, Sebastian answers, his words more careful than usual.

“Not yet. We both joined after Gabriel and missed the cutoff for this initiation. Once you go through your ceremony, we'll be able to take our Wards.”

“Do you know who they will be?” I can’t hold back my fascination. These two very normal, pleasant-seeming men are going to capture a woman and force her to do their bidding. I’m convinced that in the outside world, if they’d never become Brothers, they’d have done nothing of the sort. What brainwashing do they have in place here to convince men to go along with it?

Seb jerks his thumb at Jacob. “He does. He’s had her picked out for months, haven’t you?”

Jacob grunts. “I like to be prepared. When are you planning to decide? After the ceremony’s been and gone?”

“I’ll see how I feel. ”

Jacob rolls his eyes, but I’ve snagged onto another topic. The ceremony. With everything that has happened, I'd forgotten about it.

“What happens at the ceremony?”

“That’s enough,” Gabriel warns. “We’ll discuss this later.”

I should let it drop, considering, but the Fireball is buzzing through my system, and words come out. “No. I want to know.”

“I don’t think you want to talk about this with the guys here.”

“Will they be there on the night?”

An awkward silence gives me my answer. “So, if they can see it, they can hear about it, can’t they?”

Gabriel sighs. I glance his way and see the fatigue in his features. Shit. I should have just dropped it. But he lays his hand over mine on the table. “It’s an old ritual. You’ll be happy to hear it’s evolved somewhat from what it used to be. Wards used to be branded.”

I gasp. “With a hot iron? Like some medieval torture?”

“Yes. Now, we do the tattoo.”

“A playing card for me?”

“Yes.”

He falls silent, but the tension doesn’t abate. He’s hiding something. “I already knew about the tattoo. What else is there? Why are you all acting as though it’s some terrible secret?”

Jacob and Sebastian both look uncomfortable. Gabriel takes a deep breath. “The ceremony requires you to accept your role as my Ward. There’s a sequence of events, but essentially—” He breaks off, glances away, then pushes on. “You have to kneel at my feet, kiss my hand, and thank me for choosing you.”

He looks every bit as embarrassed as he should, but his eyes still dart away from mine. “And? ”

His eyes close briefly. “And then I dress you in the ceremonial Ward’s robe.”

“Dress me?”

“Yes. It symbolizes that you’re mine. That no one else will ever see you naked again.”

A horrible suspicion takes root in my gut. “So what am I wearing before you dress me?”

His hand tightens on mine. “Nothing. For the rest of the ceremony, you have to be naked.”