Chapter 32 Malic
"You're ready for this?" Wilder asks, rolling a fresh, unlit cigarette between his lips.
"I was born ready." Wilder's bright eyes take in my expression, and he frowns, causing frown lines. "Turn that frown upside down, Old Chap!" I chirp, patting him hard on the back. "Today is a good day."
And you know what? Today is a good day. I feel it deep in my bones, rattling me with an odd sense of anxiety.
Or maybe it's anticipation. Exhilaration.
Today, I finally get my hands on the footage I've been aching for.
Begging for. Anything regarding my sister and who she was with the night before she completely disappeared off the face of the earth.
Wilder's gaze latches onto my grin after looking at the voracious crowd.
They're everywhere. Loud. Excited. Whooping every time they win a bet.
Fucking tourists. Lining the casino and gambling away their money like they have nothing to lose.
Five years ago, this place was a dream for my boss.
Then, he brought in Bobby, who manages the casino while Boss stays in the shadows and cooks up more business.
It's a win-win for all of us.
And soon, our kingdom will come to fruition.
But first, I need to find my goddamn sister and make sure she's okay.
I've continued to stalk her apartment building, looking for anything suspicious.
But there's nada. Only the usual tenants coming and going.
The bar across the street where she was last seen has maintained their innocence time and time again.
One day, I'll torture that bartender into giving me the answers I seek.
He knows something. It's why I keep going back and studying him.
Even following him wherever he goes. The only place I can't manage to sneak into is his elusive apartment in the basement.
The place he propositioned my little ghost into visiting.
Fat chance. I would have stopped that the second he put his hands on her.
He wouldn’t have hands left to touch her with.
I knew from the moment I walked through the doors of X Marks the Spot that she was mine. My girl. My Little Ghost. The girl I watched getting carried out of that house fire, clinging to life and barely conscious.
I knew it was her by the look in her eyes. The way her long brown hair swished against her back. Her laugh. Her voice. Everything about her, I know all too well. Five years of separation did nothing to tamp down my obsession with her.
Olivia Viotto was always meant to be mine.
And now, she will be.
Ah, my Little Ghost.
She thinks she's hiding so well in the skin of a man, wearing baggy clothes and cutting her hair. But I’d recognize those deep brown eyes anywhere.
Even hidden beneath contacts and thick glasses.
She can't hide from me. Ever. No one can hide from me forever.
I expertly conceal myself in the shadows at every turn.
Even Huxley and his idiot friends have caught my eyes.
So, I watch their comings and goings when they think no one can see.
Even their cameras can't catch a glimpse of me.
My boss taught me well.
They have no clue their old best friend lurks behind them, watching their every move.
Doing what, though? And why? I haven't quite figured that out.
I think it's high time I lurk straight into her dorm room and find all the secrets she's hiding.
Hopefully panties. Or other goodies I can take home and keep until I have her as mine.
Only next time, my tracker won't be leaving her.
I grin again, sending Wilder into a panicked state. He straightens his spine, staring up at me. He goes to open his mouth, but I quickly silence him. I don't need to hear his pish-posh attitude about my scary smile and what I'm plotting.
It's none of his damn business. For now, at least.
"I have a good feeling about this little meeting, Old Chap," I say, slapping him on the shoulder again and knocking him forward with a grunt.
"Malic," he grits out, straightening to his full height.
His forehead comes to my chin. I'd call him short, but I'm taller than everyone else.
It has its advantages. Like when I need to intimidate the assholes who end up in my basement, strapped to a chair.
They always look so offended when I turn up naked.
But what can I say? I'd rather not get blood on my outfit.
"You're fucking grinning again. I told you to knock that shit off, you're scaring the children," Wilder hisses.
"The children?" I ask, peering around.
Oh.
Right.
We're in the casino. Not lost in my damn memories.
"Exactly. There are no fucking children. Only scared as fuck tourists staring at the tall asshole standing in the middle of the casino with that face..." He gestures to my smile again, causing me to frown.
"Rude," I huff, stepping away from him.
"Just trying to keep you and your low profile out of sight. If you happen to strangle Bobby for whatever we're about to see, I'd rather not have witnesses placing you." He shakes his head, rolling the unlit cigarette between his lips.
"You're my keeper, Wilder. You're supposed to keep my fingers from necks.
" Unless it's my little ghost; I'll choke her within an inch of her life.
With my dick. Oh, and my fingers, too. She liked it the first and only time we made love.
In fact, she came all over my cock and..
. Down, boy. Now is not the time to get hard at the thought of her. Later. When we have time for self-care.
"I am. But I'm also supposed to help you not scare people. You have a way about you," he scoffs, nearly running into my back when I stop dead outside of Bobby's office.
"And that means?" I grin again when he narrows his eyes.
He seems to be the only fool not scared of my antics.
"It means, your vibe is fucking frightening. Save it for fighting or something..." he trails off, rolling the cigarette again before he plucks it from his lips and puts it behind his ear. "Are you ready for the rescheduled event with that fuckwit?”
Ah. The fuckwit Huxley. The motherfucker who thought he could beat me. He was so close, I'll give him that. But alas, it was a draw. It seems the little psycho has been training to face off against me.
"More than ready," I say. "Now, let's go see where the fuck my sister is." I nod toward the door before charging in.
"Damn it, Malic," Wilder grunts behind me.
The thing about my keeper is, he's not a very good one. Sure, he keeps me from murdering people on a daily basis. But in this instance? Not a chance. No one can truly stop me from getting to what I want. And what I want is for Bobby to show me the surveillance video of my long-lost sister.
"Bobby!" I shout, throwing my arms out wide.
The balding fuck startles behind his desk as his eyes grow wide in a cartoonish manner. Quickly, he covers something up, slides it off his desk, and puts it into his drawer.
Very interesting.
I'll have to pick the lock later and find out what he's hiding. All for Boss, of course. He would want to know what the man in charge of his biggest money maker is up to behind closed doors.
"Malic," Bobby gasps out nervously. "Wilder."
"Bobby." Wilder nods respectfully, staring him down. "You said you'd see us today. That you have some footage for us regarding Meredith." He raises a knowing brow as his hand drifts to the pocket of his jeans for the small pocket knife he hides away.
My keeper likes blood, too. He's just not as vocal about it.
"Yes! Of course. Sorry, boys. I forgot you were showing up here tonight. Let me pull it up." The entire time he speaks, there's a nervousness to his tone. Something shaky and off-putting.
Yup. He's hiding something.
And I'll find out what it is because he can't hide anything from my watchful eyes.
“Can we see it then?” Wilder asks impatiently, holding out his phone. He shakes his head, grumbling under his breath. That can only mean one thing. Our boss has summoned us to another meeting.
"Yes. It's right here," Bobby squeaks, sweating hard as he rolls his chair back and gestures for us to watch.
I'm the first to jump into action, coming around the desk and hovering above Bobby.
I could probably knock him out with one punch and find everything he's hiding.
But Boss would disapprove of my violence against his most-trusted man.
It's a real bummer. Because I yearn for the violence coursing through my veins. Especially when he presses play on the black and white security footage. “So, this was the night in question. It, um, got Mere walking with someone across the street as she was leaving the bar. There isn’t sound or anything, but…” he trails off.
All my emotions--or lack thereof--click off instantly at the sight of her in her nursing scrubs, standing just outside X Marks the Spot.
Her back is to the building as she looks up and down the street.
She brings her phone out of her front pocket and taps it a few times before bringing it to her ear.
If I could only hear what she's saying on the phone.
Maybe I'd know who she's speaking with and what about.
Her lips move a mile a minute, but I can't read them.
Not with the camera zoomed so far out. She's almost an inky dot.
My fingers bunch, forming a fist when another figure meanders onto the screen with his hands in his pockets.
He walks right up to her. Like he's comfortable being that fucking close to her.
That motherfucker has no right. I stand tall, narrowing my eyes at the screen.
I will not punch it. I will not fucking punch it!
I slam my fist into the wall above Bobby's head, making him yell and cover his skull. "M-mal!" he stutters, trembling in his damn loafers.
I take several breaths, shaking the drywall off my fist before I look at the screen which Bobby paused.
"Play it again," I say with an odd sense of calm.
Maybe it's because I know the fucker talking to her and leaning in when she hands him something, and he takes it discreetly, shoving it into his back pocket.
“Motherfucker!” Wilder shouts, balling his fists at his side. "Huxley!" he shouts again, filling the room with his disbelief. “That’s who she met with?” And possibly left with. I guess we’ll see if they ventured off together.
First things first, chop off Huxley’s appendages.
“Motherfucker, indeed,” I hum, leaning in closer and examining the video again until it finishes. "Play it again."
Bobby blinks at me several times and nods, playing the video a total of ten times for me.
Over and over again, I watch them interact.
They're familiar. Friendly, even. Huxley leans close to her like a lover, preparing for a kiss.
But I know that's all wrong. Huxley hasn't touched anyone since my little ghost disappeared.
"That’s the guy?” Wilder grits out, letting all his emotions out on display.
Fool. He knows he needs to hide those pesky feelings when others are involved. But that's the thing about anger, it's hard to hide behind a mask of indifference. I send him a glare, begging him to school his features in front of Bobby.
Everyone knows Meredith is my sister and that I care for her. But no one needs to know how much I want her in my life. She’s the only family I have left. Well, the only one that counts, that is. My birth-giver doesn't deserve any sort of title. Or to be in my damn life.
Besides, when I find out where she went, I have exciting things to introduce her to. Like my favorite knife and torture chamber.
"It appears that way, Old Chap," I say, standing tall and grinning at him.
Wilder immediately frowns, shaking off his agitation. “Can you copy that for us?” he asks, gritting his teeth hard.
"Of-Of course," Bobby sputters, typing in something quickly and handing Wilder a USB. "It's all on there." He nods several times, sweat trickling down his forehead and onto his keyboard.
I wrinkle my nose. Disgust is taking me over as all my feelings click on again. It's an instant wave of rage and hate, fueling me to push past Wilder. My chest heaves as I stand in the hallway, looking at the crowd beyond the set of stairs separating the offices from the gambling.
The people around me buzz with life, on slot machines and card games, gambling their lives away.
I’ve never understood the appeal or gotten the high from giving my money away.
My money is mine. But to each their own.
I'd rather soak in the blood of my enemies than ever hand over free money to Bobby.
Maybe that's why he's so nervous. I wonder if he's skimming off the top.
My thrills come from the hunts. My prey running from me, begging me not to take their lives.
It’s music to my fucking ears.
“Mal,” Wilder grunts, grabbing my shoulder. I swing my gaze to him, narrowing my eyes. “We need to go straight home. Okay? Watch this again and reevaluate the situation.”
Reevaluate? Oh, no. Who needs to do that? Huxley Crewes was caught on camera with my missing sister on the fucking night she disappeared. The fucking enemy talked to her with a smile on his face. Easily pushed past her defenses and moved in for the kill.
He needs to die.
Or better yet...
I have an even better idea.