FOUR
“Hudson, get your ass in here and see what your son has done with himself!”
That’s exactly the reaction I expected. I started bleaching my hair when I was ten years old, per my aunt’s suggestion. No one thought it would stick, but here I am, twelve years later, with white hair on my head. Though, that’s not what shocks her. Her eyes narrow as I grin widely.
“Hi, Mama.”
“Get that thing out of your mouth, right this instant.”
Carefully, as if not to poke the bear, I approach her and wrap my arms around her. Her head rests on my chest, and I stroke her back softly. She’s confused for a moment, choosing to stay silent. Though she can’t resist her son’s hugs, she immediately hugs me back.
“Now, why would you put a gem on your tooth?”
She steps back, and I shoot her a boyish grin, the diamond tooth gem shining on my right canine. My canines have always been extraordinarily sharp, so why not make them stand out even more? Besides, it looks insanely good on me.
Not to toot my own horn, but it makes me look handsome as fuck. And Blair deserves a handsome man by her side.
“You can’t tell me it doesn’t look good and not lie.”
Mom rolls her eyes, urging me inside. The only things I brought with me are my devices and a few of my favorite weapons because I have everything else here. In fact, Mom keeps the top floor of the house squeaky clean just in case I decide to move back in with them.
That’s not happening.
I moved out as soon as I turned eighteen, going to university to get a degree in business all while working with Dad. The moment I stepped into the wild and tasted the intoxicating flavor of freedom, I didn’t want to be chained down again.
Unless Blair decides she wants to settle down.
In which case, she can tie me down to a chair, and I’ll thank her.
“You do realize that you could’ve done something better with your time than get a tooth piercing, right?”
Dad’s rough voice comes from the living room. As per usual, he’s sitting in his chair – the chair that no one else is allowed to even touch. He’s holding a cup of coffee in one hand, taking a sip, and putting it on the small table next to the chair. He barely glances at me before turning his attention back to the newspaper in front of him.
“I want to live my life before I get old,”
I snorted. Swiftly, I allow myself to take one of his prized possessions – a bottle of his immaculate collection of whiskey. His eyes burn a hole into my back while I pour myself a cup, and then I sit in the chair across from him.
“Are you calling me old, boy?”
He asks, tone cranky. “And this better be the last time you’ve touched something that belongs to me without asking. You and your mother are two of the biggest pains in my ass when intoxicated.”
I laugh. “You are old,”
I tease. “And don’t worry, I can handle my alcohol.”
“Right,”
he drawls out. He folds the newspaper neatly, setting it aside.
“Where’s the little squirt?”
“Aria has volleyball practice,”
Dad responds, his voice softening. “She’ll be home soon, though. And you better fucking make it up to her. She’s been in a foul mood because you’ve been ignoring her.”
I wince. “I haven’t been ignoring her, per se. I just have a lot of other things to deal with at the moment. I’ll handle Aria when she gets home.”
Dad nods in response, and I take a sip from the whiskey.
“Now,”
I take a deep breath. “We need to start discussing serious matters.”
He straightens in his seat, fixing his suit jacket and tie, then looks at me, waiting for me to speak more.
“You wanted me back home. I’m home. What’s wrong?”
Dad looks at me, any fondness or content vanishing from his face. He takes off his glasses, putting them on top of the newspapers and taking a deep breath.
“I need you to scout a venue.”
I frown. “What?”
“Nelson Adams has returned.”
The glass drops from my hands, shattering on the hard, wooden floor. The glass scatters around, the golden liquid coating the bottom of my pants and shoes. For a couple of moments, I’m unable to focus on what Dad’s saying, my mind preoccupied with the piece of information he gave me, throwing me off guard. All I can feel is anger slowly rising to the surface, my palms fisting to my sides.
“Hey,”
Dad’s stern voice breaks my train of thought, echoing in the room. That’s when I blink, noticing Mom cleaning up the broken glass and the smeared whiskey. “I need you to focus on this, Arlo. There’s no room for mistakes this time around; do you understand me?”
“I don’t think you understand,”
I raise my voice. “That motherfucker dared to show his face again. He fucking dared to show himself again. Yeah, I’m fucking focused on getting a bullet pierced through his skull.”
“Raise your voice at me again and you won’t get the chance to kill him.”
His voice may be calm and collected, but the threat under the mask is undeniable. I take a deep breath, lowering my head. The anger still lingers in my veins, preventing me from moving out of the chair. “This is hard on all of us. Especially your mother. I need you focused, Arlo.”
Briefly, my eyes flutter close, and I try to calm down the rapid beating of my heart. Mom is next to me, grabbing my hand and holding it tightly, all while trying her best not to cry from the sheer fury she’s feeling.
“I’m sorry, Mama.”
She shakes her head and places a kiss on top of my head. “She was your aunt, too.”
My eyes open, and I return the attention to my father.
“What’s the plan of action?”
“Now, we figure out how to take the bastard down, once and for all. And find the other motherfucker.”
“Where’s Nelson now?” I ask.
Dad’s jaw visibly clenches, and Mom freezes in the spot next to me. The air around us thickens, and I’m already dreading the answer. The two of them are having a silent conversation, one I’m not a part of, just by looking at each other.
“He’s running for the mayor of New York.”
Time stops around me.
At least, that’s what it feels like.
Slowly, I move my eyes from my father, settling them on my mother. Her expression is stone cold, eyes void of any emotion. However, tears stream down her face, and it’s a rare sight. I’ve never seen Noelle Cambpell cry, and the fact that she’s in tears, angrily letting them fall, means that it’s actually happening.
“He’s running for office,”
I repeat. “And how does that correlate to me scouting out a venue?”
“Now that he’s returned from his overseas trip and is starting his official campaign, he’s hosting a banquet of sorts. A lot of politicians will be there, and it’s definitely a grand event.”
My brows narrow in suspicion.
“Which is why you’ll be the pianist for the evening,”
he starts explaining further. “It’s the only way for you to go unnoticed, and you’ll be our eyes and ears. Your mother and I can’t go because we’ll be recognized.”
Memories start flashing behind my eyes. The worst year my family has ever gone through. Mom’s screams of raw agony, the heartbreak she endured. Aunt Jane’s mutilated, humiliated body and Dad’s urge to set the entire world on fire.
What followed was a bloodbath, bullets, and too many dead bodies to count.
Nelson Adams isn’t the one who killed my aunt, but he is severely involved. And he’ll pay for it.
“I’ll go,”
I responded, determined. “I won’t fail you.”
Mama intertwines her fingers with mine, giving me a squeeze. Her face betrays nothing; the best poker face in the family goes to Mom. However, I know she’s hurting. Jane was her baby sister, and she couldn’t protect her.
Nor her niece, Luna.
“Of course you won’t,”
Dad responds. “You’re my son, after all. However, getting close to him is next to impossible. Your target is his wife. Befriend her.”
I lift a brow. “You want me to befriend a girl in her forties?”
“She’s twenty.”
My eyes bulge. “Excuse me? Well, I shouldn’t be surprised that the sleazebag married a twenty-year-old.”
He nods in agreement. “And word on the street is she didn’t marry for love. She could know something. So, try befriending her and getting intel.”
“And what will we do about the wife?”
“If it’s true that she didn’t marry him for love and that she’s a victim too, then we’ll get her out. She’s innocent in all of this. Don’t treat her like the enemy unless you’re certain she’s involved.”
“Understood.”
“After dinner, you and I will go to the basement. I need you in the best shape, mentally and physically. The banquet is in two weeks.”
Suddenly, Mom stands up and grabs Dad’s hand, urging him to help her set the table for dinner before Aria returns home. She’s back to her happy, cheerful self, but I know it’s nothing but a facade.
I won’t just take down Nelson Adams. I’ll bring him to his knees and let Mama decide his fate.
After all, she deserves it the most.
Since I’ll be staying in New York for the foreseeable future, I relocated all of my equipment from Long Grove. Instead of intruding on Mom and Dad, I decided to go to my penthouse. Besides, I ran into them too many times while they were getting… handsy, and I’d rather not have a repeat of that.
The massive amount of information Dad gave me made me forget about my butterfly. Well, technically, I couldn’t spend hours watching her through the cameras. Imagine my surprise when I finally get some free time to check up on her and see that she left Long Grove, too.
It doesn’t take me long to find where she’s staying. It’s not far from my apartment; it’s within walking distance. She has a roommate, Wren. From what I can tell, Wren is the daughter of one of the politicians, which just gives me another opening. Wren’s father is going to be attending the banquet, too.
I can’t describe the happiness that blooms in my chest. That godforsaken town, Long Grove, is too far away, especially now that my revenge is slowly rising on the horizon. The fact that Blair chose her hometown instead of any other place just proves my theory. We were made for each other.
Blair is mine, and mine alone.
The building she’s staying in has a lot of security cameras. I’m practically giddy on the inside because it’s too easy to monitor her. The cameras are spread from the main entrance and the hall to the elevator and the back exit. It’s fairly easy to hack into them, given that Mom’s favorite pastime these days is hacking into shit.
She’s the one who taught me the basics, and I perfected it over time.
The only camera access inside of the apartment I have is hidden well in the collar that is constantly around Arson’s neck. I’d installed it the moment my butterfly officially took in the cat, and Arson had been my partner in crime for quite some time.
Arson likes me.
If anyone but Blair or me tries to pet her, she hisses and scratches. But she allows me to pet her, purring whenever I’m around. Apparently, cats are very specific on who can touch their belly, and I’m honored that she allows me to pet it.
Blair brought her laptop with her, and as soon as she turned it on, I gained access to everything she was searching for and looking up.
I sit up in my chair, brows narrowed as I look at the screen. She’s looking into articles, trying to find an invitation for the banquet I’ll be attending. The only people aside from politicians and reporters that will attend are people personally invited by Nelson Adams.
Of course, someone is bound to sell the ticket at a high price, and as of right now, they go as high as five grand per ticket, with the bid still being on-going.
Why the fuck is she trying to get into that place?
It’s not safe for her. That night, I’ll need to approach Nelson’s wife, and keeping an eye out for Blair will be next to impossible. Over sixty people will attend, and she’s bound to get lost in the crowd at some point.
When I first started doing research on Blair, I couldn’t find anything on her close or distant family. Her mother and stepfather have no ties to Nelson, because that’s something I looked for specifically.
Her biological father isn’t in the picture. Thomas Smith is named as the father on her birth certificate, but the name is as fake as they get. I did a DNA test with a strand of her hair but came up empty. Her father is either irrelevant or dead, given that he’s not in any US systems.
Blair’s life story is inhumane.
She called the police on herself when she killed her mother and stepfather, and although she tried to explain her side of the story and defend herself, no one believed her. No one believed in the horror stories of her sexual, physical, and mental abuse.
No evidence.
Motherfuckers.
But the horror stories she said are her past. Something she had to endure, experience, and put up with for a long time, something that will haunt her for the rest of her life.
I believe her.
Even if no one else does, I do.
The website she opens is a sketchy one from the dark web. Finding one of those is fucking rare, and Blair either has the worst or best luck in the world – I’m yet to determine which one.
I tap my finger along the side of the desk, following her movements from my personal laptop. With ease, I kick out the other participant and take his spot, bidding against Blair for the ticket.
I would kick her out too, but knowing her, she’ll find another way in. Instead, I’ll just offer a bigger price until she gives up.
At the bottom right corner of the screen is a small chat box icon, which I don’t want to open at all until I see a message come through.
“It’s best if you give up. I’m getting that ticket.”
With a chuckle, I type in the response with my free hand.
“Sorry, butterfly. I can’t let you get that ticket.”
For a moment, she starts typing, then stops.
There’s a minute left before the official bidding begins, and I already know how much money she has saved up. I’ll offer double, get the ticket, and leave the website, deleting it from her laptop altogether.
“Do you make it a habit to give nicknames to strangers?”
With a heavy heart, I ignored her message.
As soon as the bidding begins, she offers the minimum of five thousand.
To rile her up a little, I offer a hundred over her original bid. Of course, she doesn’t back down.
For a while, it goes on like that. She offers a thousand over me, and I just add a measly hundred to piss her off.
It’s then that Arson hops on the bed, giving me a clear view of Blair’s face.
Her brows crease in concentration, her bottom lip rolled between her teeth. That’s enough to get my cock stirring in my pants. It takes a lot of restraint to brush it off and focus on the way her hair falls down her back messily.
I take a quick glance at the watch and the time remaining of the bid, and I realize that I have to cut all of this short. By now, the offer is at twenty-four thousand five hundred dollars.
Blair’s nervous. Her nose is scrunched, and she bites the inside of her cheek, then cracks her fingers. That’s something she does whenever she’s anxious or nervous. Over time, I learned her small tells.
To cut it all short, I offer five grand over the last offer and have the satisfaction of seeing her mouth drop open, eyes widening at the number. It’s way out of her budget; even the previous price was breaching it.
“I’m sorry, Blair. You’re not going; it’s too dangerous for you.”
Momentarily, she freezes, cocking her head to the side slowly. She struggles to comprehend until the realization hits her that someone knows who she is. Immediately, she shuts her laptop and moves further away from it.
Fuck.
It slipped.
The last thing I wanted was to make her scared. I vowed to give her the sense of safety she never had, and I just ruined it all. Fuck, one sentence is enough for her to tremble like a leaf, and I know I fucked up pretty badly.
Her pretty eyes swell with tears, and she swallows them, trying her best to remain strong and collected.
My heart aches, and thoughts of self-loathing fill my mind. The moment a tear slides down her face, I wish I could just beat the shit out of myself.
Arson jumps off the bed, preventing me from seeing Blair.
I sigh, slam the laptop shut, and toss it aside. I take a big gulp of the whiskey, then switch to drinking straight from the bottle.
I’ll make it up to her.
But in the meantime, I have to start all over again.
Why is she interested in the banquet? Why now, of all times?
Nothing is making any sense. Her parents were barely scraping by; however, since I now know the reason she killed them, I have no doubts that someone attending the banquet was giving her parents money.
Which is why the situation is too dangerous for her.
To the rest of the world, Blair Hawke is dead.
I ensured that.
Going there and mingling with those filthy pigs won’t do her any good. It will only put her in danger and put her on their radar. She may have changed her hair color, but those dangerously dark brown eyes remain the same. There’s a possibility of being recognized, so why the fuck is she willing to risk it all?
By the time the banquet comes, I’ll find a way to prevent her from going, using any means necessary.