Chapter 8 #2
Chance looks surprised by my praise, but I mean it. He’s inherited Dad’s talent on the ice, and if he doesn’t let outside noise distract him, he can have an NHL career as impressive as our father’s.
“I agree.” Coach Harrison nods. “But he needs to work hard, keep his head in the game and not let the praise or the pressure go to his head.”
Coach Harrison might be a hardass most of the time, but he knows what he’s talking about.
“I was looking for my brother.” I say to both Coach and Tucker. “Do you mind if I borrow him for a few minutes?”
“Of course. We’re playing Bridgeport at home next week. Make sure you come to watch the game if you aren’t working. The Bridgeport Tigers are some of our toughest opponents.”
I shake the hand Coach Harrison offers me. “Will do, Coach. Nice to see you again.”
“Hey,” Chance chuckles under his breath when I grab his shoulder, squeezing as I guide him away from his coach and teammate. “Where’s the fire? You look like you double parked your car in a towing zone.”
I don’t even try to argue with him, because that’s exactly how I feel. “Have you seen Zara?”
“Yeah.” He nods. “You saw her too. She was going into the bathroom with Heather when we arrived.”
Fuck.
“You haven’t seen her since then?”
“No, Ares, what’s up?”
I have a bad feeling. “I don’t know. Heather is over there.” I point out our childhood friend, still giggling with her Zeta sisters. “I can’t see Zara anywhere. Lev texted her, and the text was delivered but not read.”
“Did you try calling her?”
“No. Let me do it now.” I say, feeling a little stupid for not thinking about it sooner. “It just went to voicemail.”
Chance lets out a chuckle. “Let me try. Maybe she just doesn’t want to talk to you.”
He’s lucky we’re in a social setting where we have to keep a certain demeanor, or that smart ass remark would earn him something worse than the glare I settle for. “Whatever. Just do it.”
“Nope.” He says with a frown. “Voicemail.”
I don’t even gloat like my brother would deserve. “I don’t like this. What if she’s feeling sick or something?”
He agrees. “Yeah, it isn’t like Zara to ignore our texts and calls. Let’s just go check on her. Maybe she bumped into someone she knows and is stuck in the foyer talking.”
Maybe. I seriously hope so.
Chance
After asking Lev to stay put in the dining room in case Zara comes back, Ares and I walk out of the function room to the Country Club’s foyer.
“There’s no one here.” Ares says.
We cross the big, airy room to the opposite side where the restrooms are, right before a hallway that leads to an area of the club reserved for the staff.
“It’s locked.” I inform my brother when the door handle doesn’t budge.
Ares knocks on the door. “Zara? Are you in there?” He calls out.
He puts his ear against the solid mahogany of the door, trying to listen for any sign of life coming from the bathroom.
“Maybe the cleaners are in there.” I muse.
“I doubt it. They would have put that sign that says, ‘cleaning in progress’. I don’t know if it’s my imagination, but I think I heard some noise coming from there. Like a muffled whimper.”
Fuck.
“Maybe you’re right. Maybe Zara is feeling sick. Zara?” I call out louder, shaking the door handle with more force than on my first attempt.
“Fuck this shit.” Ares grunts, nudging me out of the way with his shoulder. “I’m getting in there one way or another.”
He slams his shoulder against the door, but to no avail.
“Wait.” I stop him with a hand on his shoulder when he rears back to try again. “Let me try.”
“Why? Do you think you can do better?”
Ares is tall and muscular, but I have two inches on him, and while I might weigh only ten or fifteen pounds more than my brother, I play a contact sport every day. “I spend a lot of time ramming bigger assholes than me and you against the boards.” I say.
“Fine. Go for it.”
I put all my weight into the next blow against the bathroom door, and while it shakes and cracks audibly, it still doesn’t budge.
Rather than making fun of me or offering one of his snarky remarks, Ares pats me on the back. “Not bad, brother. I think if we both hit it at the same time, we might be able to get it open.”
“You’re right. On the count of three, ready? One, two…”
“Ares?”
We stop in our tracks, turning around to find Jules Cutler, the owner’s son, looking at us with a curious expression on his face.
“Is there any problem?” he asks.
Jules Cutler went to our same high school. He was one or two years older than Ares and Atlas and had graduated by the time Lev and I were freshmen.
I don’t know him as well personally, but he and his half-brother Crew were our high school’s football stars and everyone in town knows them.
Ares explains that we think Zara might be in there and that she might be in trouble. “The door is locked. We knocked and called out, but there’s no answer.”
“That’s odd,” Jules agrees. “But rather than destroying the door, let me use my universal key and we can see why it’s closed.”
“Thanks.” We both nod gratefully.
I swear to God, nothing could have prepared me for the scene we see when we run inside the room, elbowing Jules to the side.
“Zara!”
My stepsister is leaning against the wall on one side of the row of sinks that face the doors of the bathroom stalls.
Her chest is heaving, and tears are running down her beautiful face.
As I scan the length of her body, it’s impossible to miss how red her neck is.
Mason Morelli is a few steps away from her, his black suit covered in vomit.
I don’t know what we just walked into here, but I ignore Mason and go to wrap my arms around Zara.
“Baby, are you ok?”
She slumps into my arms, using my body to support her weight. “He was going to…”
Tears overwhelm her before she can finish the sentence, but it takes just one look at Morelli’s open fly and disheveled clothes to work out the rest.
“Motherfucker!”
Undeterred by the vomit all over the front of Morelli’s suit, Ares grabs his lapel, pulling his closed fist back, ready to strike.
“Touch me and she’s dead. You all are.” Mason’s tone is calm and cool.
Ares doesn’t let him go, but his fist remains suspended in midair, trembling with the effort not to slam into that bastard’s face. “Not if I kill you first.” My brother seethes.
“Especially if you kill me.” Mason’s chilling smile doesn’t reach his eyes.
“If something happens to me, my family won’t rest until all of yours is six feet under.
My uncle and his men know every way to make someone disappear.
And if any parts of their unlucky victims are found, there usually isn’t even enough to bury or cremate.
If you don’t believe me, you can ask Lev’s parents.
They’ve seen some of their finest work.”
Ares lets him go with a shove.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I say, with Zara still tucked in my arms. “He was trying to force himself on her. Kick his ass, and we’ll worry about his uncle later.”
“My brother is right.” Ares advances toward Morelli again. “I could make it look like an accident. Or do you think you’re the only one who knows how to do that?”
Mason doesn’t look scared. “Do it. But you better get ready for the fallout. My uncle knows everything about the races. He’s the one funding the entire thing.
This morning, I filled him in about everything.
From JJ Smith’s identity to the little secret relationship each of you has with this little cunt.
So I promise that if anything happens to me, my uncle will make sure that you’ll get a front-row seat to whatever happens to your sister.
And then he’ll take care of you and the rest of your family, one by one. ”
This time, Ares heeds his warning. “Fine. Go before I decide that taking care of your worthless ass is worth living—or dying—with the consequences.”
Morelli takes his soiled jacket off and throws it on the tiled floor of the Country Club’s bathroom.
“If you don’t want to lose everyone you love in the most painful way, I recommend that you all be at the starting line next week.
And don’t even think about going to the sheriff about this.
If I see a cop who isn’t you at the race, I’ll show you what really happens to snitches.
Now,” he turns to look at Jules. “I can’t go back to the dining room without a blazer and with vomit on my shirt.
Give me yours if you want to keep your Country Club safe.
I’m from the East Coast, but I hear that California is a very dangerous place.
Stuff like wildfires happens every day.”
The threat is loud and clear, but if Jules is scared, he doesn’t show it.
“We’re the same height, but we aren’t the same size.
” He says, looking at Morelli’s lanky frame.
“I’ll text the Club’s boutique, and the manager will find you a new suit and shirt on the house. Do you want that one laundered?”
Mason kicks the blazer on the floor toward Jules. “Sure. That’s a twenty grand suit. If you can get it cleaned up, I won’t have to add it to that bitch’s tab.” He sneers, looking at Zara, who’s still tucked into my side.
“Fucking charming.” I bite out once Morelli slams the heavy mahogany door of the restroom behind him.
“You don’t know the half of it.” Jules says, using his phone to send a text message. “He used to go to boarding school with my fiancée. He caused my family so much fucking trouble last year.”
Ares glares at the door Mason just left through. “That tracks. Do you pay his family any protection money?”
“I’m not sure. I used to work for my mom, but now I just help when she’s on vacation or understaffed.”
My brother sighs. “I know his uncle traffics drugs and prostitution. It wouldn’t surprise me if he also collected protection money from businesses in town.”