Chapter 40
CHAPTER FORTY
FELIX
The elevator slides open, returning the three of us home to the penthouse after our weekend away at the wedding. Morning sun shines through the windows, warming the place.
Tyler drops our bags by the entryway, then pulls Harper onto the couch with him in a hug. She’s quiet today, exhausted after the weekend but also suffering with period cramps.
I head to the medicine cabinet, grabbing pain relief, then return to her side with a glass of water. “Swallow these pills. You’ll feel better soon.”
She takes the medicine and gives me a sleepy smile.
“Are you performing tonight?” Tyler asks her.
“Tomorrow night, which reminds me, I need to sew more pointe shoes.” She glances around, searching for something, then sighs. “I left my sewing kit in our bedroom downstairs.”
Harper makes a move to stand up but I gently push her back down. “I’ll grab your sewing kit. I need to run downstairs for a second anyway to collect a few documents to show Tyler.”
“Want us to come with you?” He stretches, placing both hands behind his head.
“No.” I kiss Harper’s hair. “Get unpacked. Run a bath. Relax. I’ll be right back. Ten minutes at most.”
Harper smiles at me, snuggling into Tyler. “Don’t take too long. I want you in the bath with me.”
Tyler laughs, muttering a smug comment, though I hear it on my way out. “Orgasms are supposed to be good pain relief for period cramps. I’m happy to be of service in any way I can help.”
She giggles and swats his arm.
I smirk, catching my last glimpse of Harper and Tyler before I’m in the elevator. Knowing them, I’ll return to find them having sex.
As I travel down to the office, all I can think about is racing back to Harper and taking care of her while she’s in discomfort.
I want to wash her hair while she bathes, then wrap her in a warm dressing gown and make a heat pack for her stomach.
I want to cook her dinner and massage her feet, then sew pointe shoes while listening to her talk about the four children we’re going to have.
Fuck, I’m so ridiculously happy. I’m smiling like a fool right now, alone in this elevator.
I never thought this happiness was in the cards for me.
I have everything. The love of my life. Shit is good with Tyler again.
Not only do I have him back as a brother but we’re working together on a business goal we’ve dreamed of for the longest time.
Harper is ours. We’ll get her pregnant. I have no doubt about it even if she’s lost faith.
The elevator doors slide open to the staff quarters of The Scarlet Mirage. At this hour of the day, late Monday morning, the venue is closed and no staff are working.
Harper’s sewing kit is in the bedroom, exactly where she said it would be. I grab it, then head for my office to collect new floor plans to show Tyler.
I retrieve keys from my pocket and slide them into the office lock. Right as I open the door, pain slams into the back of my head, sharp and hard, turning my world black.
My hands are tied behind my back—that’s the first thing I’m aware of when regaining consciousness.
Shit.
My vision blurs as I blink against the throbbing pain in my head, trying to make sense of my situation. I’m sitting upright in a chair. The lights are dim. I can’t hear a thing nor do I know where I am.
Rope digs into my wrists as I struggle to free myself. My ankles are bound to the chair legs. The last thing I remember is collecting Harper’s sewing kit and then… blacking out from splitting pain.
This is fucking bad.
I’ve been neck-deep in trouble more times than I can count, but I’ve never woken up tied to a chair. There’s always been some method of escape even if it was running for my life. Theo has always had my back. Not this time. He has no clue where I am or that there’s an issue.
I rack my brain, running through names and a motive. Anyone I shorted. Anyone who lost too much at my poker table and decided to take it personally.
I glance around, gaining clearer vision with each passing second. My mind catches up, slowly recognizing the entertainment area of the speakeasy. There’s not a person in sight. I’m surrounded by empty chairs and tables. An empty stage.
I came down from the penthouse just after eleven a.m. The antique clock hanging above the bar says it’s close to midday.
Panic splits through me. I told Harper and Tyler I’d be quick. They’ll come looking for me when I don’t return. Perhaps they already have. Are they tied up too? Fuck. I struggle, groaning as I attempt to free myself with no success.
“Harper? Tyler? Are you here?” Please, don’t answer me, I beg within myself. Don’t come searching for me.
“Good morning, sunshine. The two of us are alone.”
The deranged voice comes from somewhere behind me. My stomach clenches. I know that voice. I’ve only heard it once before in this very location, but I could never forget a voice so insane and sick, not when he was threatening my woman.
My struggling stops. I can breathe again, knowing Harper and Tyler are safe, at least for now.
“Quentin Ferguson.” My words are calm. He holds all the power right now but I won’t let him see my fear. “I thought you were in hell with your brother.”
Ferguson steps into view, swinging a revolver around his finger.
He wears a pristine black suit. His dark hair is gelled perfectly into place.
But unlike our first encounter, I don’t need to study him to notice the illness.
Several weeks have passed and the lymphoma is catching up to him.
Ferguson is thinner, his face gaunt and his skin waxy.
“You should know better than to believe someone is dead unless you see their body with your own eyes,” he says.
“Your car exploded.”
“I wasn’t in the car. I learned from you and hired someone to do my dirty work for me. I’ve been out of action for a while, ever since your whore stabbed my hand. She did a great job, by the way.”
Ferguson holds up his palm, flipping it back and forth, admiring the angry red scar like it’s some prize he earned. His fingers clench into a fist then flex.
“Took a while to heal. Mobility is still not one hundred percent. But the strength in my palm has returned. The poor bastard burned in that car but it’s actually quite funny, don’t you think?
” He laughs each word, barely able to contain himself.
“What a lucky set of circumstances for me. You dropped your guard, believing I was dead. You’ve made things so easy for me.
All I had to do was disappear for a while to lull you into a false sense of security. ”
“You never showed for oncology appointments,” I mutter, more to myself than him.
“No doctor can help me. The cancer will kill me in a few months. I’ve accepted my fate.
” He leans against a table, spinning the gun around his finger once more, still laughing.
“Death is freeing. All the laws of society suddenly become irrelevant. There are no consequences when a man has nothing left to lose. The only thing I’m determined to do before leaving this earth is settle the score for my brother. ”
My chest burns, furious with myself for letting Ferguson slip through my fingers. “How did you get in here?”
“I tucked myself away in your cocktail lounge while waiting for the speakeasy to close. Once staff cleared out, it was easy enough to slip down here and quiet the alarm. Your security system isn’t nearly as impressive as you think.”
Not a single person is due here for hours. I told Theo to give business a rest today and stay with the girl he met at the wedding. Except… Shit.
Harper and Tyler will come searching for me. They’ll walk right into this psycho’s arms.
Fuck. I can’t let him hurt them.
“You know what pisses me off?” Anger snaps in Ferguson. For the first time during this encounter, he isn’t laughing. There’s no smug grin. “You murdered my brother and there were no repercussions for you. Piece of shit. Living the high life, acting like the world bends for you.”
I remain silent, watching him pace the floor, waving the gun in the air as he enters a crazed speech.
“Paul had social issues growing up. Kids never liked him. They said he was strange. Too quiet. I saw the true boy he was—gentle and hard-working. Above all else, he was desperate to be loved. But those kids made Paul hate himself so much that he tried to end his own life.”
Ferguson’s pacing escalates and his voice grows louder. The words are spilling out of his mouth with increased anger and speed.
“When Paul was fifteen, I found him in a pool of his own blood. He was a troubled kid. My parents sent him to a clinic to get the help he needed. When he got out, he was doing so well. He showed promise for the future. He was socializing again. He found a girl he was happy with. They were supposed to get married. He’d even been accepted into MIT. And then you fucking killed him!”
I keep my voice level, trying to show reason, though I know any chance of Ferguson listening is close to non-existent.
“The girl you say Paul was happy with—he assaulted her. Does that sound like the good man you think he was? I never intended to kill your brother, but the Paul you’re describing was a figment of your imagination. The real Paul was a predator.”
“Shut your fucking mouth.” He slams the handle of the gun against the side of my head.
A blinding bolt of pain sends my world spinning.
“My brother was a saint. Women these days are the issue, always leading men on, flaunting themselves, acting like they want sex. Then they claim they were victims when a man touches them. The only victim in this situation was Paul. If he ever touched your whore, it’s because she led him on. ”
Just like his brother, he has a warped view of reality. I hold Ferguson’s gaze but remain silent, contemplating my options and what else I can say or do to escape these ropes.
“Enough talk, Blackwood. I’m about to put a bullet through your head.”
Fuck. I need more time to think. But as Ferguson points the barrel of his gun at my head, I realize this is it for me. There is no more time.
After everything I’ve been through, this is how it ends.
The fucking irony.
I feel like I’ve lived through this very moment, nineteen and with the world at my feet, so unbelievably in love with Harper. Then everything ripped away by Paul’s death.
Now, here I am again. Full circle.
All I can think about is Harper and Tyler upstairs in our apartment, unsuspecting of what’s happening down here. The two of them waiting for my return. The danger they’re in.
“After I shoot you, your whore will be next.”
I snarl, thrashing in my restraints. My own life holds no importance. All I care about is protecting Harper, and I only have seconds left to talk sense into this lunatic.
“You want revenge for your brother’s death? Kill me. Leave everyone else out of this. I’m the one who murdered Paul. Put me through whatever kind of hell that pleases you. But don’t you dare touch Harper.”
He laughs. “Do you not understand? The fact that the girl is so precious to you is exactly why I want to harm her. I might even test her out for myself and see what’s so special about her.”
“Fuck,” I growl, ripping my throat raw. “I swear, you will be a dead man if you touch her.”
“Did you not hear me when I said I don’t care about death? Besides, who’s going to kill me? You, tied up in that chair? Something tells me otherwise.” Ferguson steps closer, pressing the cold barrel directly to my forehead. “This is for Paul.”