30. Remy
Chapter thirty
Remy
I knew I should have put a tracker in her. The thought crossed my mind when she lay in my bed after Wes sold her to some sadistic fuck, and I told myself I was crazy. I reminded myself that I don’t treat people like cattle, like property, but that was before I realized she fucking owned my soul. I didn’t even realize it after everything we did together, after watching her rip my fucking heart out and get on that plane, after suffering through these months without her.
But I realize it now. Because if she dies, I’ll die with her. If she dies…
“Stop fidgeting.” Wes snaps, slamming the laptop shut. “You’re fucking driving me crazy here.”
I stop to stare at him, delirious with the dread in my chest, my stomach, my lungs… it’s like turpentine, filling me more and more with every second that passes, taking away my ability to breathe, to think.
“If I’m bothering you, I could have Simon depressurize the cabin long enough to let you off. How good a swimmer are you? If you survive the fall from forty thousand feet, would you be able to tread water ‘til someone happens upon you?”
Wes only laughs, unbothered with the threat. “You wouldn’t risk all of us just to punish me. You’re not the bad guy, Remy, so stop pretending you are. You’re shit at it.”
“You’re shit at playing the good guy, so why don’t we both stick to what we know? ”
That only gets a smirk from him. “I know more about the inner workings of my father’s system than you do. Just because you’ve had access to his accounts doesn’t mean you know how to run an operation so sophisticated… or how to ruin it.”
I would have probably killed him on sight if I hadn’t been so distracted by his fucking wife. And even then, I may have killed him if my sister hadn’t called to tell me that Claire was missing.
Wes says he knows how to help, but he also claims to have no idea where she is. I’ve already threatened to flay his skin from his bones if I find out he lied to me, but something about the way he looks at his wife—Claire’s sister —makes me think he may be telling the truth.
“Why should I believe you?” I snap. “What basis do we have for trust, brother ?”
“Well, it sure isn’t blood.” Wes smirks, leaning back in his chair and tipping his head a bit, like he’s trying to figure out something he hasn’t asked about. “But there’s a few good reasons I can think of.” His eyes trail to his wife, who’s sleeping curled up in her seat. It’s a strange sight… she looks so much like Claire, to the point I feel déjà vu sweeping at the corners of my mind as I think of the first time I had Claire on my jet, how she’d been so nervous, how she’d called me a bronzed god and fuck if it hadn’t felt good to know she idolized me already.
She’s wrong. I’m no God, now or ever. I’m a mere man, and it is her who should be worshipped. And I will worship her when she’s back in my arms, because once we find her, she’ll never leave my arms again. If she wants the world, I’ll buy it all like Monopoly spots. If she wants the moon, I’ll have to buy stock in Space X. If she wants kids, I’ll keep her so full of my cum that she’ll be constantly pregnant, popping them out back to back until she begs me for no more.
It’s desperate, and yet I know it to be true even as the thought crosses my mind. Watching her walk away from me was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to live through, but knowing what could happen to her is the new hardest thing.
Even when I walked through the houses of horrors and think back to everything that happened that night Davos first introduced me to the world I was bred for, I could dissociate. I could close off some part of my heart, my brain, and just fucking deal with whatever we came upon. But I can’t do that with her.
I’ve seen the most depraved things man can do, and I’ve seen people who have lived through it, but if that happens to Claire because I was too scared to give her what she wanted…
No.
“She saved my life.” Wes says, interrupting my spiral as I’m raking my hands through my hair.
When I look at him, he’s opened the computer again and is already clicking away, trying to find the information he promised me. He doesn’t look up as he continues. “I went out with her the night we met so that I could build trust, and I was going to use her to get to your sister. She was funny, sweet, and oh so innocent. I was intrigued,” he casts a quick glance at his wife, ensuring she’s still asleep. “I was interested in something real with her. When I walked in to her on the table, I could have fixed everything and helped her. We wanted Rhea… she was promised to my father by yours. Claire begged me to help her.”
I take a step closer, my fingers closing into a fist that I plan to put right through his face. He stops me with a hand up, not done talking. “Just listen, okay? I’m not showboating here. I’m telling you, she had so much hope in her eyes, so much relief when she saw a familiar face. And I could have saved her, but I didn’t. I put two and two together, realized she’d been hooking up with you, and I decided to use her instead because I fucking hate you.”
I don’t have to tell him the feeling is mutual. He knows.
“But even after all that,” he licks his lips, and I can see him trying to work through the thoughts in his head. “When I was bleeding out on your boat, she helped me. Knowing it would piss you off, knowing she may crash the boat because she clearly didn’t know what she was doing, knowing that I wasn’t sorry about what I did to her. I would have bled to death on your white leather seats if she had just ignored me or run away… and I couldn’t have blamed her. And then she saved me again, at that fucking veterinarian’s office you took me to. She gave me her blood, didn’t she?”
I narrow my eyes on him, wondering how he knows that.
“I was in and out, but I saw her sitting there with the tube in her arm. She gave me her blood even though all I ever did was take from her. It saved my life, and when I woke up on that table later, I knew it was because of her. So, rest assured, brother, that this has nothing to do with you. I am doing this for her .”
His words take the fight out of me, and I sink down into my chair, hating that I’m trapped in this tin can in the air. I’m useless up here, unable to do a damn thing to help the woman I love.
And I fucking love her. That’s the only explanation for whatever this is… this feeling that makes me want to die, to live, to fight and kill and do anything for her. It transcends lust, because it’s not her body that I’m dying to sink into… it’s her. Everything that makes her who she is— her laugh, her spitfire attitude, her soft spirit.
“We’ll find her.” Kent assures me.
I know he’s been through this… he’s been going through this for years now. And I don’t know how he’s still alive, how he can keep going, how he wakes up every day and just keeps trying.
If we find Claire and it’s just her body, I’ll never recover.
And that’s the real danger here. Wherever she is, it’s not somewhere good. She is in danger because her buyer is still out there, because any number of people could have snatched her off the street, because she wouldn’t be ignoring my sister if everything was okay.
The spirit is an easy thing to kill—I’ve seen it done many times, even had mine taken from me. I already know her body and soul are capable of enduring more than anyone should have to, but they could both shatter at any time .
I’ve seen women who live like zombies, walking around in bodies that are still very much alive, but with dead eyes, no soul behind them. I’ve seen women who have had that ripped from them, who have bled it out of their broken bodies little by little, women who don’t seem to realize what they lost because they’re so numb.
I have experience fixing bodies… broken bones, bruises, cuts that never healed right. Those things are easy, but I don’t know how to fix a shattered spirit. I’ll try, for her, but I hope I don’t have to.
“Dimitri is over Nevada now. He’ll be on the ground soon. Your sister and her bodyguard are en route to your house, though he said he had to drug her to get her on the plane…” Kent clears his throat, not having any clue about how neurotic my sister can be. If Eli really did have to drug her to get her to a secure location, he deserves a raise. I know how much she cares, and I know she wouldn’t have wanted to go anywhere. But the truth is, Claire could be anywhere in the world. Getting Rhea somewhere secure is pivotal to ensuring I can focus everything I have on getting her best friend back in one piece.
When I simply nod at him, Kent must decide that’s not as weird as he imagined it to be, because he shakes his head.
“Ah, got it!” Wes says, jumping up from his seat and reaching for the phone in his pocket. He doesn’t say anything to me as I follow him, taking a few steps away so that he can place the call.
“Speakerphone!” I demand, as he’s pressing the thing against his ear. He turns to grace me with a middle finger and a roll of his eyes, but he drops it into his palm and turns the speaker on anyway, just in time for the ring to pick up.
“Hello?”
The voice on the other end isn’t familiar. I expected his father, or maybe Holland, or some mystery figure with a thick accent. But it’s just a man, without any discernible accent, and a deep voice that sounds something between confused and annoyed.
“Evers.” Wes says curtly. “Long time, huh? It’s Wes. ”
There’s a sound of movement from the line, and Wes rushes out, “Don’t hang up. I need a favor.”
A moment of heavy silence passes before Evers laughs. It’s not a sound of amusement; he seems more shocked than anything. “A fucking favor ? Is this a joke?”
“No joke. I need to find someone. It’s pivotal.”
I vaguely consider telling Wes I’m impressed by his vocabulary, but I’m too intent pinning my hopes on this mystery man. Wes hasn’t told me anything about who he is or how he can help us, but I’m desperate enough to make a deal with the devil himself right now.
“Can’t help. I’m busy.”
“You’re not busy.” Wes shakes his head. “I saw the headlines. You bought a fucking newspaper? What are you going to do, start outing us in the Sunday Morning Herald?” Wes snorts, as if he’s amused with himself.
“It’s got nothing to do with you. I told you when I walked away, it’s fucking over. Don’t call again.”
“Bad breakup?” I guess, because it’s easier to focus on whatever the fuck is going on right now than the fact that my whole world feels like it could collapse at any moment.
“Who’s that?” Evers asks, his voice flat despite the obvious interest of his words.
“A friend.” Wes explains away. I don’t know if I hate him calling me brother or friend more. They’re both equally horrendous. “A friend who needs your help.”
“I can’t help. I sold the kingdom and gave away my key. Call your father, I’m sure daddy can help you.”
“Nope. He’s useless. We need you.”
There’s a heavy sigh, and then an equally heavy hit as I imagine he slams his fist against something. A moment later, a car horn blares, a long, continuous sound that has both Wes and I cringing .
It stops as suddenly as it began, and I hear Evers clear his throat. “You know I designed it with lock and key security. I don’t have the software anymore.”
“You didn’t rebuild it?” Wes asks, doubtful.
“Nope. Don’t need that juju, thanks.”
“I don’t believe you. You were too smart to not have any kind of backup system.”
Evers chuckles, and I can’t tell if they’re flirting or not. Wes just has a way of talking that makes it sound like he’s constantly on the verge of jumping someone’s bones, and I find it supremely fucking annoying. “Fine. I did try to recreate it, but I haven’t cracked the algorithm. It’s useless, and without the original system, so am I. Sorry, I can’t help.”
He sounds like he’s moving to hang up when Wes speaks again. “I know where the original is.”
Evers contemplates the words in silence, and Wes lets him. I still don’t know what the fuck we’re actually talking about, but they’re offering me hope, and I’m not too proud to take it.
“I’ll give you anything.” I tell him honestly. “Any figure. Name your price and it’s yours.”
“You clearly have no clue who I am.” Evers sneers. “I don’t want your fucking money.”
“Then what do you want?” I ask. “Anything.”
“You’ll have my debt.” Wes says, before Evers can offer an answer. “I’ll owe you a favor. No expiration, no limit. Just do this for me now.”
“I’ll do it,” he says, slowly, “but after this you leave me the fuck alone, the way you’re supposed to. Got it?”
“Of course.” Wes agrees. “Get your stuff in order. I’ll have a jet waiting.”
They don’t say anything else to one another before Wes ends the call and stuffs it back in his pocket. “Well?” I demand, not sure what even just happened. “How is he going to help me find her? ”
Wes ignores me, crossing back to his chair and sinking against it. “Declan Evers. An old friend.”
“The way we’re friends?” I sneer, dropping into my own seat and putting my head in my hands to try and counteract the pressure that’s built under my skull.
“No,” he laughs. “Evers was a real friend. My roommate in college.”
I don’t really care about his old roommate or his time in college, which probably amounted to drowning kittens or something. But I need the distraction, because every time the silence falls, I hear her screams echoing in that dirty old warehouse and imagine someone trying to recreate them.
“Was?” I ask, searching for a distraction to keep me from tearing my own hair out.
“He’s a little mad at me.” Wes shrugs. “I figured it would blow over by now, but at least he seems to be softening a bit.”
I don’t bother telling him his friend hadn’t seemed too soft to me. “What did you do to him?”
“Convinced him to sell his software to my father. He was desperate for the money, didn’t want to part with it, but he thought the cash would solve all his problems. It didn’t, and now he’s taking it out on me.”
“Riveting.” I snap, annoyed that he hasn’t given me anything more to latch onto. “And how does this help me?”
“I already told you,” Wes shakes his head. “This isn’t for you, and it isn’t for our stupid slut of a sister. It’s for Claire.”