Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
GRAYSON
“What is that?” I ask.
I’ve been walking around this small-as-fuck holding room where Nadine was being held, but when I dip down and look under the bed, I see something there.
A black bag.
Crouching down, I reach for it and grasp a strap.
It’s Nadine’s purse.
The moment I bring it to the bed and plop it down on the mattress, I recognize it as hers.
“It’s Nadine’s,” Orion states.
Turning my head, I look back at him, surprised to see him standing there again.
“Put the club on lockdown. Trying to get some surveillance, but we don’t have much out here.”
“Why not?” I ask.
His lips curve up into a grin.
“If you don’t see it, does it exist?”
I chuckle.
I suppose he’s correct, but I throw something else at him.
“If you see it and keep it, you can use it as insurance.”
“Touché.”
Shifting my attention back to the purse, I do something that I know I’m not supposed to.
I may not know much about women, but I do know that I’m not supposed to be in their purses.
Except.
This is my woman’s purse, and I can only hope there is a clue somewhere in here as to where the fuck she’s been taken.
So I empty out Nadine’s bag onto the cot, my eyes taking in the contents.
“You know, I think what you just did is illegal,” Orion grunts next to me.
Turning my head, I look over to him.
“I think you’re right.”
Finding her wallet, I start looking through it, trying to find anything and everything at once.
I know that thumb drive is somewhere, and I don’t know Orion enough to know if I can trust him, but I need that device.
I don’t find it.
At least not in her wallet, although she told me that’s where it was.
Then something crosses my mind—the lining of her purse.
Picking the empty purse up, I slide my hand along the inside until my fingers touch something hard.
This is it.
Ripping the inside, I take out the drive.
“The fuck is that?” Orion barks.
“This is what Tate wants,” I say.
He snorts, then takes a step backward.
“I don’t know what the fuck that thing is for, but if Tate wants it, I’m glad you have it and not him.”
Well then.
I guess he’s not worried about the thumb drive.
Tucking the drive into the pocket of my jacket, I take a step back, then notice the phone, and then there’s another phone.
Nadine has a burner.
Grabbing both of them, I try to unlock one, but it’s facial recognition only.
The other one is the burner.
It’s not even a touchscreen.
It’s an old-school phone with buttons and everything.
I almost laugh at the sight of it.
Finding the call list, I scroll through it, and there are only two incoming calls and one outgoing.
Unknown and Brody for incoming and Brody for outgoing.
This is her connection to her brother, but who the fuck is Unknown?
And as I look at the call log, really let it soak in, I notice that the Unknown is new—very new.
Too new.
“Who called her?” I ask.
I’m sure I ask myself, but Orion clears his throat.
“No fucking clue,” he says.
Turning my head, I look over my shoulder at him.
“I need to get these phones to my guys. Maybe they can find something.”
I walk out of the room, stop at the doorway, and look back at the scene.
I don’t have a good feeling about any of this shit.
Not a single fucking part of it.
I don’t think Landon Tate did this, either, which concerns me even more.
“You still haven’t heard from Brody, have you?” I ask.
“Not a single fucking word. Not even a text.”
“Shit,” I hiss.
“None of this shit is good.”
“No,” Orion grinds out.
“I’m getting that feeling that something really fucking bad is happening here.”
NADINE
My parents look back at me before they shift their attention toward the windshield and drive.
I don’t pay attention to where they’re going.
I can’t.
I’m too flabbergasted.
My flabbers are completely and totally gasted.
They don’t look the same way they did when I saw them last.
They look worse.
If my mother walked past me on the street, I wouldn’t recognize her.
She’s so gaunt, and her hair appears brittle.
Her hair was always her best asset.
Even when she was deep into her addiction and had no money for the salon, my mother always did at-home deep conditioning treatments and touched up her roots.
Now her hair is dry and dark brown with thick strips of gray.
I can’t believe it’s truly her.
My father doesn’t look much better.
He was always handsome, and Brody favors the man I remember so much.
He was strong and tall, wide-shouldered and narrow-waisted.
But he looks like a skeleton—like his body is barely holding on.
“Where are you taking me?” I chance asking them.
There is silence.
Neither of them responds.
I guess I don’t get to know where they’re taking me until we get there.
Looking out the window, I watch as the trees pass by at an alarming rate.
We’re headed back into town, and judging by how fast the landscape is moving and changing, it’s at an alarming rate.
I wonder offhand if we’ll get pulled over.
I doubt it.
My luck isn’t that great.
I just hope that whatever happens, Grayson can find me.
I have no doubt that the men of Securus are working overtime to figure out where I’ve gone.
I just hope that they can get to me before it’s too late.
I have a feeling that whatever luck I’ve had the last five years has just run out, and I’m about to reach the end of my road.
Closing my eyes, I don’t bother taking in my surroundings.
My father is driving too fast anyway, and it’s starting to make me sick.
Besides, it doesn’t matter if I know where we are.
It’s two to one, and there is no way I’ll be able to get away from them.
Whatever they have planned, I know they aren’t the ones in charge.
Someone has been keeping them hidden for years.
Someone has been ensuring they have whatever drugs they want.
And I have a feeling that I know exactly who that someone is.
“You fucked up, girl,” my mother snarls as the truck comes to a stop.
When I open my eyes, I am met with her weathered gaze.
Instantly, I feel bad, guilty even.
I don’t know why.
Maybe it’s because I know she has lived a hard life.
She hasn’t had anything easy.
She’s been on drugs as long as I’ve known her, and there’s a reason for it, I’m sure.
But then I remember that she sold me to a man for her own selfishness.
My own mother.
Tilting my head to the side, I smirk.
She frowns at the sight.
“The way I see it, I fought back. So I didn’t fuck anything up.”
She snorts.
“You’re gonna get it tenfold. Just wait.”
I lean forward slightly as my smile grows.
Maybe I’m crazy, maybe I’m stupid, or maybe I just don’t care anymore.
I’m not sure, but looking at this broken woman in front of me, I realize that I’m stronger and better than she ever was.
Even though Landon tried to break me, he couldn’t.
“Bring it on,” I snap.
She jerks back slightly, almost as if I’ve physically assaulted her.
Then, without another word, she climbs out of the front seat of the truck.
The back door opens, and I look up to see my father standing in front of me.
Gaunt doesn’t begin to describe him.
He is a shadow of the man I remember.
It’s only been a few years since I thought they died, and they appear to actually be ghosts standing in front of me.
I’m honestly surprised their legs carry their bodies.
Sucking in a breath, I climb out of the pickup truck.
He doesn’t say a word to me, and I’m fine with that.
I decide to use this quiet moment to take in my surroundings.
It didn’t matter where the truck was driving, but it does matter where I am now.
Now it’s a fight to the death.
A fight for my life.
And I’m not going down without one hell of a fight.
Following behind my mother, which as much as I don’t want to do that, I also don’t have a choice, because my father’s fingers are curled in the back of my blouse, obviously not allowing me to slip away.
Although I think I could probably take both of them with their physical deterioration.
We’re in a regular neighborhood somewhere in Nights.
The pickup truck is parked in a garage.
An empty garage, which is odd, because usually when a person lives in a home, they typically use the garage as storage for tools and outside things.
All of this pointing to this either being an abandoned home or a safe house of some kind.
The most unsafe safe house that ever existed.
That’s about all I know right now.
The door into the home opens.
My mother climbs the three short steps to enter, and I follow behind her, very much feeling as if I’m being taken to my death.
Tilting my head back, I lift my chin in the air and look down my nose.
If I’m going to be taken to my death, the last thing I will do is show fear.
Because fuck them all.
As I walk through the small kitchen, I don’t look around, but when we step into the minuscule living room, I can’t help but glance over to the front door.
It’s locked.
But it’s not chained.
This could be a good thing if I can get to it, unlock it, and run like hell.
But a throat clears from the other side of the room, and as I slowly spin to face the noise, my heart squeezes and my stomach flips.