Chapter 58
CHAPTER 58
BETH
“H ave you completely lost your mind?” Oliver growls as I buckle my seatbelt, and I notice his eyebrows pinching together with how pissed he is.
“I know it sounds crazy, but it’s our only option. I told you what that guard said!” I’m ready to punch him for his protectiveness. I can’t just sit here and do nothing.
Yesterday, I cried my eyes out after visiting Nigel in jail. Now, I’m done having a pity party, and I need to bring him home. I can’t let Nolan win. I have to fight back, and the only way I can do that is by visiting the patriarch of the Gray family. I know Martin said it’s dangerous, but it's my last card to play.
I’ve already met Nolan and I never wanted to be around him more than that, but he’s the one in control of what’s happening right now. I can’t just forget that Nigel is in jail because of me and sail off into the sunset with Ollie and Martin.
I’m not that damn heartless. Nigel has done a lot of bad things, but this entire situation is my fault. I put us here and now I need to fix it.
I only told Oliver that Nolan Gray wants Nigel’s head on a platter for the very public stunt at the accident scene. I doubt he would care if Nigel fought Martin unless it affected their public image or challenged his masculinity.They fight in the ring all the time.
“And you heard what my cousin said about his piece of shit father. You’re not going to that house.” He turns in his seat and glares at me with malice in those icy blues. “Do you seriously think I’m not worried? I’m pissed and freaked out because my best friend is locked in a cell where anyone can walk in and do whatever the fuck they want or whatever Nolan pays them to do to Nigel, but there is nothing we can do. That prick isn’t going to let Nigel off the hook just because a pretty girl says please.”Ollie and Nigel may have their issues now, but that doesn’t change that Ollie cares about Nigel and doesn’t want anything bad to happen to him either.
“If you’re so fucking worried, why aren’t you doing anything? I’m the only one here coming up with any ideas to get him out of there!”
“Because he wanted me to keep you safe, and that’s exactly what I’m doing. This isn’t the same as every other situation we have faced. Going up against the Grays is ugly and brutal, and they always win.”
“That doesn’t even fucking make sense. You are a Gray, Ollie.”
“I’m the fucking son of the illegitimate sister to the patriarch, okay? I don’t have any fucking leg to stand on and neither does Martin. Don’t you get it? Nolan owns everyone in this town, including those with control over the law. Cops, lawyers, judges–all of them are in Nolan Gray’s pocket. There’s nothing I can do!” By the time he finishes, he’s screaming at the top of his lungs with frustration. He balls his fists against the steering wheel before repeatedly slamming his head into it. The madness is creeping in and fogging everything else. It’s like when we dealt with Aimee’s stepdad, how he tragically lost himself. The only thing that kept him grounded was me.
“Hey, stop,” I demand as I move close to his side and run my fingers over his shoulder and into his hair. “Ollie, please.” At least he stopped slamming his head into the steering wheel. That’s a bonus, but he’s all stiff and doesn’t seem to be breathing. “I’m with you. Always. Remember? I won’t lose you in the madness, and you won’t lose me.” I sniffle my tears as I play with his hair. “I need you to trust me. I need you to let me do this, and if it doesn’t work, we’ll come up with something else. And, if Nigel…” I trail off, thinking of the worst-case scenario. “We’ll face that together, too. We’re in this together.” Throwing my arms around his neck, I press myself close to his body and wait for his muscles to relax.
“Fine,” he caves. “I’ll take you, but I’m not leaving you there.”
* * *
“I don’t like this. I have a bad feeling,” he admits as his fingers tighten around mine and he pulls up to the mansion.
“I know, but I have to try. The accident was completely my fault. If I hadn’t helped Casey leave, Martin wouldn’t have been driving the way he was. I wasn’t exactly driving like a sane person. It’s all on me, and I have to make this right. If I don’t…” I struggle to swallow the lump of air lodged in my throat as my airway tightens and restricts everything. “I won’t be able to live with the guilt.”
He knows I’m right, and that’s the part that really sucks about this. Oliver knows me inside and out, so my pain is his pain. My shame, his shame. My broken heart. His heart crumbles along with me. I don’t want my pain to hurt him, but it’s inevitable. We’re too connected for it not to.
“I’ll be out as fast as I can, and if I need your help, I’ll text you, okay?”
I don’t give him a chance to respond before I’m out of the car, and I walk up the ten steps from the driveway to the front door, stuffing my phone into my pocket. If I need Ollie for protection or as backup, he’s only a text message or phone call away. He won't leave me here, and I know that all the way down into the darkest parts of my soul, parts only Oliver Doyle has been privy to.
Knocking on the white door, I count my breaths as I wait, trying to slow my racing heart. I’ve made it to one-fifty by the time the door opens, and I’m greeted by the rude butler I remember from the last time I was here–Bernard.
“Can I help you, miss?”
I nod. “Yes, I’m looking for Nolan Gray.”
The elderly man gives me a skeptical look before he hums. “Right. Wait here, and I’ll see if he will see you.” Then, the old man slams the door in my face as if I’ve offended him somehow. I was nothing but respectful in our limited interaction.
“What the fuck,” I grumble, but within a minute, the asshole butler throws open the door, motioning for me to enter. “Slam a door in my face again and see what happens,” I warn him, and he instantly stiffens but refuses to meet my eyes.
Seriously, he didn’t do that last time I was here.
“I’ll show you to Mr. Gray’s office, miss.” He doesn’t say another word as I walk further into the mansion. My pulse thrums in my neck as I follow close behind the asshole butler as he turns down a hall.
Nolan Gray’s office must be pretty close since the butler returned so quickly after saying he was going to make sure I was allowed to step inside.
The gold tile cuts off at the beginning of the hall and turns into a blood-red carpet that goes perfectly with the beige walls. Just as we make it to where the corridor turns, a man with blonde hair comes into view, and I don’t know who it is until he lifts his head and I’m met with oceanic eyes.
Martin.
His eyes widen, and he grabs my arm before I can pass him. “What the hell are you doing here?” he growls with frustration.
“What I need to do.”
“Mr. Gray–” the butler tries, but Martin just sends him a stern look, and the man shuts up.
“You need to leave now. ”
“No,” I refuse as I pull my arm from his hold. “I know you’re just trying to protect me and I appreciate that, but if I can fix this whole situation just by talking to your father, I’m going to do it. This is my fault anyway.”
His eyes narrow with confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“I’ll explain later, okay?” Actually I won’t, but I bet he won’t think to question me about the slip up then. Turning on my heels, I leave Martin in the dust and continue following the butler from hell.
* * *
This house is so big my toes are starting to cramp from walking so much, but the butler doesn’t seem to be losing any steam until we make it to an open door, where I hear shouting.
“Come on, Dad! I never ask you for anything. Just let him off the hook. He’s spent a week in jail. Isn’t that enough for you?”
Michael?
He’s standing up for Nigel and fighting his case.
“It’s none of your concern, Mikey. Now, be a good boy and run along,” a more gruff voice responds dismissively.
“This isn’t over.” Then, Michael steps out, and his eyes widen when he sees me standing with the butler from hell. A few blonde strands fall in his face as he moves closer. “He won’t budge. I’ve been trying to convince him for days to release Nigel, but he’s not listening.”
“I’ll do what I can. We’re not going to give up, okay?” Reaching out, I take his hand and give it a tight squeeze to show my gratitude for him being so loyal to his friend. Then, Michael walks around us and dashes down the corridor like a man on a mission.
Me, too, Michael. Me, too.
The butler nudges me toward the door, and I glare over my shoulder before I knock on the open mahogany door.
“Enter,” the man inside calls out, and I take a deep breath before strolling inside.
I don’t think I’ve ever been in a more egotistical room. White sparkling tiles cover the floor with a bear rug next to a massive fireplace with a crystal table top coffee table that makes up most of the room except for the glossy cherry oak desk that looks out the glass wall to the perfectly manicured lawn. The only thing more gaudy than the bear rug is probably the fully stocked bar on the wall opposite the dead animal skin.
Nolan Gray stands up from behind the desk, fixing a button on his suit jacket like he just came home from a day at the office.
And, like that, the familiar sensation of snakes slithering across my skin returns, a sensation I never wanted to feel again. I have to do this though.
“Please, have a seat, Miss Mercer.”
His blue eyes scan my frame like he’s trying to figure me out using those cold, calculating eyes. He gives not a single emotion away as I move to the sofa, and instead of joining me, he walks behind me, and shortly after, I hear a door click shut.
My anxiety picks up as all the conversations with Martin about his abuse flashes through my mind. People call Ollie the town psychopath, but that title is more fitting of this creature. I don’t know him well, but I don’t need to. He hurts his own family for no real reason–not that any reason would ever be good enough.
My head snaps around as he strolls across the room like he’s above everything and everyone, his head held high like he’s the King of England and this is Buckingham Palace.
“What can I do for you, Miss Mercer?” he mutters as he walks to the bar. “May I offer you a drink?”
“Um, thank you for the offer, but no. I’m fine.”
I’m cautious of the words I use. I know how to deal with an abusive person. I’ve spent enough time with my mother and being aware of someone who could snap at any moment has its advantages.
His head snaps around, and a brow lifts as he assesses me again before giving me a curt nod. “Very well. Do you mind if I get a drink for myself?”
Why is he asking me this? “Not at all.” I offer a small smile, but he doesn’t pour himself a drink. Instead, he continues to watch me like he’s calculating how many pounds of pressure it takes for my face to move, like he’s looking at me but not at the same time.
Finally, he grabs the decanter and an empty whiskey glass before filling it halfway with the amber liquid. He pauses for a second with the lid to the decanter in his hand before placing it where it goes. That intermission is enough to put me on edge. I have no clue what is going through this man’s head, but I can guarantee it has nothing to do with cute brown bunnies and fluffy-tailed fawns. Bambi and Thumper should be so lucky not to ever be faced with the likes of Nolan Gray.
He turns with the glass in his hand,walks straight over, and sits on the couch opposite of me. “What did you want to see me about, Miss Mercer? I’ve received quite a few visits from your mother in the past, but never you. If I remember correctly, the last time you came here it was to see Martin, right?”
I nod.
He chuckles lightly. “Where is your mother? Does she know you’re here?”
“She’s in rehab for her drinking problem. She has another week until she’s released.”
That mathematical expression returns to his face like he’s trying to solve an equation to get a different answer than the one he previously got.
“You were able to keep that under wraps pretty well. This is a small community. Gossip of that nature usually spreads like wildfire.”
“I don’t trust many people, and the people I do trust have earned it, so they don’t spread my business around.” What is the point of this conversation? I’m here to ask for him to release Nigel, but I’m asking him to do something for me. The last thing I want is to piss him off, so it’s best to go with the direction he wishes to take this discussion.
“You can read people pretty well, then?” he asks nonchalantly.
“I’m…decent. My boyfriend is way better at reading people, but I still pick up on more things than the average person.”
He nods, deep in thought, with the crystal glass close to his lips. The man is so lost in his head I doubt he realizes we’re not talking anymore. Is he okay? Maybe he’s legitimately sick, like with a fever.
“So…” he trails off before draining the rest of his glass, then he holds it on the leg of his pants. “What reason did you come to see me today? Was there something you needed?” he presses, resuming his perusal of me.
He’s quite a peculiar man.
“I’m not an idiot, Mr. Gray. I have eyes and ears that are fully functioning.”
This seems to grab his attention because his gaze snaps up to mine, trying to figure out what I’m going to say next.
“I know you pretty much run Grove Hill. Everyone is in your pockets. When you say jump, they ask how high and go with whatever you say. People try their best not to anger you because they don’t want to face the consequences.”
He doesn’t deny it, but there is no admission either. “Get to your point.”
“Nigel O’Reilly. He’s my point. I know he stepped out of line. He wasn’t involved in the accident. You don’t really care that he hit Martin, but that he did it in public where many people were watching. I get it. Your image means a lot to you, and your sons are a part of that image. You need to make sure people know not to challenge your authority, but I’m begging you,” I trail off as my emotions try to pull me under and destroy me in front of the man who runs this town. “Please, Mr. Gray. I came here to ask you to let Nigel go. I know what you plan to do to him in jail. You can put him on probation and have a restraining order put in place, and I can make sure he stays away from you and Martin. I will do anything it takes. Just…please. Please.”
Nolan Gray tilts his head to the side as he puts the glass on the table, the wheels turning in his head.
“You really mean that, don’t you? You would do anything for the O’Reilly boy. It’s not just empty words for you, is it, Miss Mercer?” he questions as he taps his fingers against his leg, picking up a rhythm I don’t know.
“Yes,” I admit. “Anything.”
“Move out of state?”
“Yes.”
“Commit a crime?”
“Already done that.”
“Screw someone besides him?”
I don’t say anything, but I know my eyes give me away. When I say anything, I mean it. Even if the thought of it makes me want to vomit.
“What about marrying someone else?”
My eyes widen at the idea. I hadn’t even thought of that as something that would be asked of me, but this is the man that was brokering a deal with my mother to marry me off to Martin. “Yes, even that.”
“Now, we’re getting somewhere,” he chuckles. “How about kill? Would you kill for your beloved, Miss Mercer?”
“Already done that,” I answer his questions honestly without even thinking about the repercussions.
“How about killing someone he cares about? What if I told you that if you killed the town psychopath, Oliver Doyle, I’d release the O’Reilly boy from jail? Would you do it?”
My heart stops at his question, and the blood drains from my face.
Did this man just seriously ask me to kill his fucking nephew ? Like, of all people!
He can’t ask me to do that.
“And there it is,” Nolan Gray grins like the Cheshire Cat as he crosses one leg over the other.
“There’s what?”
“The line you have drawn in the sand, the lengths you won’t go for him. I’m sure Mr. O’Reilly appreciates it, but does he know you’ve been screwing Mr. Doyle behind his back?”
I don’t say anything. I’m stunned that he would think that, but how does Nolan know anything that has transpired between me and Oliver?
“I thought you might be Mr. O’Reilly’s love since the accident. Why else would he have attacked my son? It only made sense that you two were involved, but then why wasn’t he the one to pull you out of the truck? Instead, Mr. Doyle ran to aid you and stuck by you constantly until you were released from the hospital. I thought maybe I was wrong about you and that Mr. O’Reilly attacked my son to protect his friend and that you were with Mr. Doyle, but then you showed up here to plead for him. So, tell me, does he know you’ve been screwing his friend?”
“No.”
He nods pensively. “Alright, Miss Mercer. I think I can help you out.”
I let out a heavy breath I didn’t realize I needed to let out to relieve the stress building in my body. It worked.
I took a chance, and he’s actually going to listen.
“Thank you.”
His eyebrows knit together. “Don’t thank me yet. I give nothing away for free, but I think we can work something out. There’s a job that I think you would be perfect for and in exchange, I’ll release Mr. O’Reilly.”
Before I can question him about this elusive task he wants me to do, a knock sounds on the door before it opens with the annoying butler standing there.
“Master Nolan, the kitchen staff would like me to inform you that lunch is ready, and there is plenty if you wish to invite an additional guest.” Then, the asshole motions toward me with his head, and I start to object.
“No, that’s okay. I wouldn’t–”
“You’ll join me and Martin, Miss Mercer. We still have much to discuss.”
My eyes turn to saucers. Just him and Martin? What happened to Mrs. Gray and Michael? Why aren’t they here to join us?
“Okay,” I concede, knowing I don’t have much of a choice but to make nice until I accomplish whatever this task is that he has for me. After Nigel is free, we can all get on with our lives.
Once I’m standing, Nolan Gray presses his hand to the small of my back. Those familiar snakes bite at my flesh in every spot this vile creature touches.
It takes everything in me not to push him away.
He guides me out of the room and down the endless corridors until we make it to the dining room–or I assume it is since it’s a massive room with a long table taking up a good deal of the room. Still, I assume it’s intended for dinner parties or celebrations. If it’s not being used for anything else, I don’t see why they wouldn’t use it for private lunches.
Martin sits at the table, sipping what I can only assume is a glass of water, but when he sees me slip into the chair across from him, he chokes on it, his eyes widening.
“Manners, Martin,” Nolan growls low in his chest as he sits in his chair.
I barely refrain from yelling at the devil for barking at him like that.
“Miss Mercer will be joining us for lunch today. We have some business to discuss, an exchange of favors if you will.” He motions to the empty air as if that explains everything, but it’s clear Martin has no clue what he is talking about.
“An exchange?” His confused eyes dart to me as their staff enters the room from a side door and sets a plate in front of each of us, but the amount of food on my plate wouldn’t be enough to feed the pet rabbit I had as a little girl. The smallest side salad imaginable, a piece of steak not much bigger than a quarter, and two baby carrots.
What the fuck?
Why does my plate have such little food, and their plates are full of a big steak, a baked potato, grilled green beans, sauteed mushrooms, and a side salad twice the size of mine with carrots? Absolute horseshit if you ask me.
“What did you want from me in exchange for letting Nigel off the hook?” I ask, holding my head high.
Martin coughs as his father picks up his fork. “It’s simple. I want you to marry my son.”