Chapter Twenty
“I need clean-up. Three men. All dead.”
Lowen’s gaze followed Evren as he talked to his brother on his cell phone. Agitation clear as day as he paced. Guilt settled in her stomach like a stone. She’d been the one to bring this mess to their doorstep.
“I just don’t understand how they found us, Jeremiah. Yeah. Of course. I don’t know. Ask Tucker to get a new...”
His words faded as a memory surfaced. The night she died, when she came downstairs and heard Scias and Rexx talking, he had said the name Tucker.
Could it be a coincidence? It was an unusual name, but not necessarily normal.
It seemed odd, and suspicious, that the name came up again.
A moment later, he hung up and sighed, running a frustrated hand through his hair.
“Can I ask you something?”
He looked at her. “Of course.”
“How many men in your organization are named Tucker?”
“One. He’s Jeremiah’s assistant. Why?”
“The night Scias pushed me off my balcony, he was talking to Rexx. He was extremely mad because a man named Tucker told him Jeremiah was supposed to be at Direridge that day instead of you.”
Evren furrowed his brow. “Tucker? Are you sure?”
“That night is seared into my memory. You never forget when you die. By the way, what is Direridge? I’ve heard this name a lot but I have no idea what it is.”
“Not a what. A where. It’s a ghost town.”
Lowen frowned. “A ghost town? Like, old buildings and stuff?”
“Yep.”
“And this is worth killing over?”
“Direridge is in a place called the Virgin Valley,” he explained. “Once it ran out of silver, Direridge was abandoned. No one gave it any other thought and it faded away.”
“But that’s not the end of this tale,” she surmised.
He shook his head. “One of Jeremiah’s side businesses is lending money to people who can’t qualify through normal means.”
“You mean, he’s a loan shark.”
He gave her a pointed look but didn’t confirm. “One of Jeremiah’s clients, named Phineas Jones, borrowed the money in order to reopen the mine. He was convinced there was silver or gold still undiscovered somewhere in the damn thing.”
“Was he right?”
“In a way. When his payment to Jeremiah came due, he tried to sell us the song-and-dance bullshit, so Jeremiah decided to call his bluff. Hired a geologist to test mineral rights.”
“What did he find?”
“Not gold or silver,” he replied. “However, the geologist found opal-bearing strata through the rock.”
“Opals. In Nevada?”
“Yep. Now, just because the geologist found a possibility of opals, doesn’t mean the mine has it.
Or that they’re valuable. Despite that, Jeremiah decided he wanted Direridge, so set up a meeting at the Jade Grove to get Phineas to sign over the town because of the money he borrowed and couldn’t pay back. ”
“I’m getting the feeling something happened.”
“He never showed up at the Jade Grove, where you warned Jeremiah about the ambush. Then Phineas disappeared. Haven’t seen hide nor hair in weeks and now we’re afraid something bad happened to him.
Somehow, Scias found out about the possibility of the opal mine because he started sniffing around Direridge. ”
The light bulb went off. “Tucker.”
“It all makes fucking sense now.” While watching her, he placed another call.
“Sax, I need you to look into Tucker. He’s our mole.
No, from Lowen. She heard it in her other life.
By the way, we’re going to fly home tomorrow.
But I’ll change the arrangements now because I don’t trust Tucker. See you soon.”
As soon as he hung up, something else drifted into his memory. “Wait. That night, Scias mentioned how valuable Direridge was. He used the term ‘N1.’ Does that make sense?”
Evren’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you sure he said N1?”
“Yes. He even gloated that Jeremiah didn’t know how valuable it was.”
“Damn,” he said. “That means the opals are valuable. And here I was pushing for him to forget about Direridge. Come on, let’s get packed so we can get back home.”
“What about the bodies?” She gestured to the dead man.
“Jeremiah’s cleaning squad will take care of everything. I want us at the airport as soon as possible.”
****
T he trip home filled her with dread. Tension kept her muscles tight, threatening to erupt into a migraine.
She couldn’t even appreciate being on an airplane for the first time because she was too upset about what happened that night.
Needless to say, she and Evren didn’t talk much on the five-hour flight from Ontario to Las Vegas.
She dozed in the uncomfortable seat, unable to really sleep because she was so unsettled.
When their plane touched down, he held her hand as they walked through the airport. Unease settled on her shoulders. It felt like someone was watching her, but she was just being paranoid. A black SUV waited for them, and in moments they were on their way to the Monarque.
One moment Lowen had her head resting on Evren’s shoulders, the next moment they’d been hit broadside.
The SUV spun dizzily and she screamed as the windows shattered, spraying glass everywhere.
The big vehicle came to an abrupt stop as it smashed into a guardrail, throwing her forward.
When the forward momentum halted, she blinked and the first thing that came back into focus were the unseeing eyes of the driver.
Blood poured from someplace on his head, and it was obvious he was dead.
“Evren,” she mumbled. “Evren?”
She tried to push herself up from the awkward angle she’d been tossed.
Pain radiated on her right side as she shifted, so she moved more carefully.
Once up, she turned to Evren, silently pleading for him to be all right.
His eyes were closed, but he was breathing.
A sigh of relief washed over her, but in the next instant, the back door was thrown open and someone grabbed her arm.
The harsh yank pulled her out of the broken SUV and she stumbled to her feet.
“There you are, my runaway fiancée.”
Horror washed over her as she stared into the cruel eyes of Scias Mailliard.
Déjà vu and all the fear that came with her past life reverberated through her mind.
This was the man who put her through hell.
Raped her. Beat her. Humiliated her. She’d been weak.
Powerless. Relying on any scrap of mercy he cared to bestow but rarely ever gave, preferring to torture her not only physically but also emotionally.
She loathed him. If there was one thing she learned in her years as his wife, it was that she’d rather be dead than under his thumb.
“I’ll never marry you,” she whimpered, immediately hating how scared she sounded. Fear was Scias’s narcotic.
A slow, sinister smile stretched his lips. “I paid for you, so you do belong to me, my dear. You’ve been a very naughty girl and must be punished.”
Lowen couldn’t stop the shudder of revulsion coursing through her, and the slight tremble in her body added to his delight.
“You’re a sick, twisted man.”
He grabbed her hair and yanked her head back, overextending her neck. “Better get used to it.” Then he licked her cheek, his saliva burning her skin like acid.
Grabbing her arm, he pulled her toward his car.
In her previous life, she didn’t want to die, and this time was no different.
However, this time she refused to cave to the inevitable.
Her time with Evren had showed her just how much she wanted to live, so she was going to do everything she could to survive.
To rid the world of this man’s evil. If that meant killing Scias, then that’s what she was going to do.
With his soldiers around she had to choose the right moment.
She wasn’t the same Lowen and this wasn’t the same timeline where all she ever did was cower.
Evren had showed her that power came from within, not through fear.
He taught her that self-defense was stronger when you believed in oneself.
Scias could do his worst, and she had no doubt he probably would assert his dominance, but her mind was no longer trapped in dread and terror.
He might beat her. Kick her. Slice her skin to the bone.
But he would never break her spirit again.
****
E vren’s eyes fluttered as he struggled to open them. Hazy images lingered around the peripheral of his mind, and a voice in his head told him to wake the fuck up.
“Ev?”
Jeremiah’s deep baritone penetrated the mist clouding his thoughts and his eyes popped open.
His brother leaned over him, eyes narrowed, with an intensity that would’ve slain anyone else.
Gone was the ruthlessly controlled businessman, and in his place was the Jeremiah of their youth.
This was a boy who felt too much. Cared too much. Would do anything for his family.
“Water,” Evren croaked.
Jeremiah reached for a cup with a straw on the C-arm table at the foot of the hospital bed, and then helped him take a few cool sips to soothe his dry mouth.
“Where is she?” he immediately asked.
“Taken,” Jeremiah replied, setting the cut back down. “I have men tracking the footage of the crash through CCTV, but it’s a slow progress to hack into their systems.”
“Tucker is the mole.”
Jeremiah nodded. “I have him detained in Sax’s playroom.”
Ice hardened Evren’s heart. He would make Scias and his minions pay with their lives. “Get me out of this hospital bed. I need to interview him.”
Just then a nurse and doctor came into the room.
“Already in the works,” his brother stated.
The doctor tested his vitals, checked his eyes. Recommended he stay, but Evren refused. Against the doctor’s medical judgement, he got the hell out of there. He had some minor cuts and abrasions but nothing serious. Rest wasn’t going to help him recover because he had a monster to slay.
“Let’s go,” he said to Jeremiah after he dressed in his crash-worn suit.