Chapter 10
Dixie
Over coffee, the afternoon sun streaming in through the windows, Tyler regarded me.
He’d been up earlier than me, working out on a patio outside the kitchen’s sliding doors.
I’d snuck onto a tall stool at the island to watch him, thinking I’d got away with spying on his routine of battling his own body weight in push-ups.
But his near immediate smirk told me I was wrong.
He’d finished up and joined me, sweat on his brow, and the doors left open so the fresh March air swirled in. It hadn’t escaped my notice that last night, I’d told him to unlock the doors. Now they were wide open, the forest with the ridge behind right there.
I’d jumped up and closed them.
Tyler disappeared to change. When he came back, I posed a question.
“What are we doing today?”
He chugged water. I admired the line of his throat as he swallowed.
“We’re going to call your sister.”
Bucket of water? Hello.
“We?”
“Me. You’ll listen.”
I tucked my hands under my armpits, oddly disappointed. I both wanted to meet Mila and was terrified by the idea. “Why?”
“To talk about the Marchant shite. I went further than I intended last night with the first on your list but left him alive so ye had the choice. Before we take another step, we need information.”
He meant Sullivan, my would-be rapist. “What did you do to him?”
Tyler held my gaze, something careful in his. “Do ye really want to know?”
I chewed my lip. Though I worked in a warehouse run by a dangerous gang, I’d noped out of the details of how they handled other men. I knew they killed. Tyler did that on the regular. I’d seen him return bloodied.
Just like last night.
I let my mind go to a dark place where he held Sullivan’s life in his grip. My breathing turned shallow. “Did he scream?”
Tyler didn’t hide a cold smile. “Often.”
Such swagger in that one word. Such a thrill it gave me.
“Walk me through it. Just a little.”
“I discovered his address. A luxury new-build on a quiet road. All boxy and grey. I set up monitoring around the perimeter and watched it for a while until I was sure he wasn’t there, or anyone else. He came home, I was already inside.”
I leaned in, loving how the hunter had become the hunted. “And then?”
“He strolled into the hall, tossed his coat, and kicked off his shoes. Dumb fuck checked nothing. I stepped out of a doorway, he froze, one hit and he was out. Disgustingly easy.”
“Did he look scared?”
Tyler smiled. “He did. The comfort of home slipped from his face, fear replacing it.”
I exhaled a breathy laugh, liking that far too much. “What did you do next?”
“Hauled him over my shoulder, trudged down a hedge line, and chucked him into the boot of my car. He was arrogant. No real security.”
“He thought he was untouchable.”
Tyler’s eyes gleamed. “He was wrong.”
Neither of us spoke. Sullivan had hurt me, and now he was suffering in exchange. Pretty poetic justice in action.
“He’ll be ready and waiting whenever ye want to handle him. Tomorrow, in a week, there’s no rush. In fact, the longer he waits, the more time he has to consider his actions.” Tyler pulled a face. “If he’s able to think right now. He talked when he woke at the other end and I lost my shit.”
“Thank you. I don’t know if I said.”
His twisted, rueful smile warmed me through.
I tapped a finger on his phone, noting how I really needed a manicure. What a wacky thought amidst those of rapists and traffickers. “Thank you for telling me. Now you can make the call.”
He searched his contacts and dialled Convict. My heart squeezed. Con was one of my favourite people on the crew. Happy, open manners, somewhat ditzy. He’d been my friend, and I’d dropped him just like I’d dropped everyone else.
The call connected, Convict’s groggy voice coming through. “Hey, man.”
Tyler spoke, but his attention stayed on me. “Sorry if I woke ye. I need to talk to Mila, if she’s around?”
“She’s up. I’ll take you to her.”
Movement, a muffled conversation, then a woman’s voice followed.
“Tyler? You wanted to talk to me?”
Shock stole my breath. I’d expected to feel something, after so many years of imagining this, but she was so familiar.
She sounded like me.
Tyler’s gaze soaked in every reaction. “I have a question on the trusted companies. Can you give me a refresher of what that term means?”
“Sure. The vote on the future of my grandfather’s company is divided between the five heirs, which is made up of me, Kane, our missing sister Darcy, Uncle Wallace, and lastly, our grandmother.
But in the event of a deadlock, which means one person not voting, he gave one vote to the three businesses he called his trusted companies.
We worked out who they are. All Deadwater-based, owned by his cronies, though at least one is now operated by the son of the original business owner. ”
Interest flashed in Tyler’s eyes. “Which?”
“The three are Harford and Tien, owned by Denise Harford, Debrock Finances, who is Paul Debrock, and Sullivan Property Solutions. The owner was Peter Sullivan, but he was diagnosed with dementia a couple of years ago. His son, Oscar, is in control now.”
I shrank in on myself—even now, it was a jump scare—and focused on that detail. Oscar. Sullivan’s first name was Oscar. It didn’t suit the man who’d tried to break me.
Some calculation ticked away in Tyler’s eyes. “What happens if one of the trusted companies can’t vote?”
“The owner or the whole company?”
“The owner.”
“I’m not sure. Assuming Darcy isn’t found, or won’t vote, that’s when the trusted companies come into play. If only two of the three are available, the vote is unbalanced again. I’d have to call the solicitor to find out what they would do in the case of a deadlock. Why are you asking?”
“If that vote stalls again, would that cause problems for ye?”
She took a breath. A deep one. “Honestly? I don’t know. I was so fired up about getting the company operating again. Then we uncovered the rot under the surface. I guess all I want now is answers.”
Convict’s voice joined hers. “And for the podcasters, journalists, and influencers to leave her alone. They’re fucking relentless.”
On my phone, I tapped a message into my notes screen and held it out to Tyler. He nodded and read it out.
“Is Mila safe?”
“Course she fucking is. What do you take me for?” Convict grouched. “We’re staying at the warehouse for a while as Mila’s apartment is under siege. We’re good.”
I pulled a face by way of apology.
Mila’s voice returned. “I’ll talk to the solicitor and come back to you.
I just want the vote to go ahead so that part of the process is behind me.
It’s a weight around my neck. As much as the relatives still hounding me.
I wish I knew why my grandfather ever started those payouts.
I wish I knew anything, including what to do for the best.” She hesitated.
“Jeez, that overwhelm is messing with my head. There’s a reason one of the company owners wouldn’t be able to vote, isn’t there? ”
“Possibly,” Tyler intoned.
“Good to know. I’ll call back.” She hung up.
I stared at the phone. “I like her voice.”
“She’s a good person, from what I know of her.”
“Which is what?”
“She’s somehow reminiscent of ye. Mannerisms, maybe. That should’ve been my first clue, but it didn’t occur to me when I met her.”
Damn, but I had the strongest sense of missing her. I’d never met my sister but I’d always wanted to. That sense only got stronger. More because I had the answer to a question she’d asked. I knew exactly why our grandfather paid money to his relations.
The urge to be of use tightened my belly.
Tyler described how Convict had brought Mila to him for help. She’d been trying to hunt down a man who she thought was influencing her grandmother, following her grandfather’s funeral.
I cocked my head. “Rhys Jacobs?”
“Ye recognise the name?”
It was a blast from the past. A boy my age, showing up for a meeting with my grandfather. One I wasn’t admitted to, which was the sole reason I recalled him. And asked him questions the next time he visited. He’d been a dick to me, I remembered. Made some kind of crude comment, the jerk.
I shrugged. Tyler continued.
“Another person sought Jacobs, a gangster named Salter. A trafficker. We caged him a while ago. It was the first connection between Marchant Haulage and trafficking. Far from the last.”
“Because they found bodies on the ship,” I filled in from what I’d read in the articles.
“Ye probably know more than I do.”
He was testing me now. Pushing for intelligence.
But trust went both ways.
I lifted my chin. “I didn’t know you were working through my list.” He’d called Sullivan the first.
His look said of course he was. Same as how Convict had been insulted at my question over Mila’s protection. “It would be easier if you told me more about each of them.”
I gestured from him to me. “You talk first.”
We were back to our standoff. He’d stolen me away for a reason I still wasn’t certain of. I didn’t want to guess.
Tyler’s phone rang, saving us. He heaved a sigh and swiped to answer, raising it to his ear.
I took my mug to the sink and washed up, not listening but also unable to avoid hearing him saying the name Kane.
He was talking to my brother.
For a girl used to being on her own, suddenly I had family everywhere. Had to stop thinking of that one as the enemy, though. Lovelyn liked him. She wasn’t scared of the huge, intimidating hulk, and she wouldn’t fall for someone mean.
God, I missed her, too.
When he was done, Tyler came to me. “Kane and Lovelyn dropped off your bags to the warehouse after chasing ye to Edinburgh. Want me to go fetch them? Or ye can come with me. Even if just for the drive.”
The city. The daylight. “I’m good here, thanks.”
In hiding away, voluntarily now, I was turning into a regular cave dweller. Though Mila’s question burned in me with the want to be useful to her, the thought of going out was terrifying. My cold sweat at the bus station had done more harm than good.
Tyler readied to leave. Paused at the door. “When you’re ready to meet her, I’ll be there with ye.”
“Why do you care if I meet my sister, hun?”
“Because I think you’ll love her, and she’ll love ye. Everyone needs that.”
Perhaps they did.
“Bye. Don’t die,” I said. Same words I’d used a few times when he left the warehouse on missions. Almost the entirety of our conversations, pre-kidnapping.
But my quip landed harder than expected.
Tyler’s lips parted, his self-assuredness vanishing to reveal something darker, vulnerable.
“Fuck,” he said. Then shut me out before I could ask what I’d said wrong.