32. Ash #2
With the gun still pressed against Howard’s face, I repeat myself. “Where the fuck is she?”
There’s a brief pause on the line.
“Ash,” he says finally, faux pity lacing his words. “You sound... upset.”
I press the barrel harder into Howard’s forehead until his breath catches, his blood pooling around my boots from his knee.
“If she’s dead,” I say quietly, each word carved out of something vicious, “I’m going to make Howard watch me peel his wife apart before I start on him. And then you’ll never get your precious money, which I assume is the reason she’s there.”
Evelyn lets out a strangled sob as Howard goes rigid beneath the gun.
Zeke laughs again, humming thoughtfully. “That... amongst other things.”
My mum. Revenge for her death. I almost forgot in the whirlwind of this day that Zeke was in love with my mum.
My stomach drops when it hits me that Zeke wants me to feel what he felt when my mum died. The thought brings on a despair like I’ve never felt.
“You know what I want,” Zeke continues his voice turning lazy. “Give me the drive. I’ll give you little Miss Dally. If she’s even still alive... who knows at this point. She looked pretty rough last I saw.”
The room spins.
“I couldn’t care less about the drive,” I snarl. “You can have it. I’ll hand-deliver it myself. Just...” my voice cracks, weakness bleeding through me. “Just give her back,” I plead.
I need her back. I need her.
Silence passes, then Zeke exhales a sound that almost resembles approval.
“You say that now,” he muses. “But men like you are... unpredictable.”
“I don’t care,” I bite out. “Name it. Money. Weapons. The drive. Me. I’m the one you really want to hurt, so hurt me!”
I’m not even bothering to hide my desperation. Because I am. I’m fucking desperate. Every second counts, and I’m wasting it in the presence of this vermin.
Howard makes a small, scoffing sound through gritted teeth, but it comes out more like a whimper. Blood loss is already stealing colour from his face.
Zeke’s voice lowers, sharpening. “Don’t mistake me,” he says. “You try anything and she’s already dead.”
“Where?” I snap.
“The grey zone,” he replies. “We both know the rules.”
I already know it’s a trap. I don’t care. My vision pulses red as the line goes dead, and for a second the only sound in the room is Evelyn’s broken sobbing and Howard’s laboured breathing.
Zeke didn’t choose the grey zone on a whim. Every instinct in me screams that this is wrong. That he wants me there. That he’s counting on the fact that I’ll lose control.
He’s right.
I grab Howard by the front of his suit and haul him off the couch. He cries out as his ruined knee buckles, his weight sagging against me.
“We’re going for a drive,” I murmur in his ear.
Evelyn jolts to her feet. “You can’t just...”
I swing my gun toward her without looking.
“Stay,” I say calmy. Too calmly. “If you value your pathetic life, you’ll sit exactly where you are.”
She freezes. Her mouth opens and closes uselessly. Her eyes dart to Howard, then to the blood pooling at my boots, then back to the gun.
She sits.
Howard swears under his breath as I shove him forward. He stumbles, nearly collapsing, and I drag him by the collar down the foyer steps. His good leg tries to keep up, but the injured one leaves a thick, dark smear behind us.
The marble that once looked pristine is now painted with him.
Poetic.
Looks nicer than the ghastly art hanging on the walls.
I push him through the front doors into the rain. The air is cold and metallic, washing over us as lightning flickers somewhere in the distance. Griff’s black Ute waits in the over-the-top driveway, engine already running from when I left it on.
Howard’s eyes lift, and for the first time tonight, something close to real fear flickers across his face.
The five security guards lay where I left them. On his front steps. Rain washes diluted red down the white stone. Their empty eyes stare at nothing. Howard swallows loudly.
His pathetic lump of a body falls in a heap on the gravel when I let go of him, and I sigh. Currently, his daughter is tied up, enduring much worse than a busted knee, and she’s doing it with a hundred times more dignity than this useless sack of shit.
I find the zip ties in the centre console and step over him, securing his wrists behind his back. He fights me, but it’s abysmal, and I have him secured in seconds.
“You’re making a mistake,” he grunts, his tone coming out uneven.
“I’ve already made plenty,” I reply flatly. “This won’t be one of them.”
I’m a strong man, but lifting this fucker takes a good effort, pulling a grunt out of me as I shove him face-first into the back of the ute. He lands hard, a groan punching out of him as his injured knee slams against the metal. I slam the tailgate closed.
My heart is racing as I pull away from the mansion, tyres slipping along the damp asphalt. I don’t drive gently. I need to get to my angel. And the thudding of his body and the muffled groans echoing from the back is just an added bonus.
This man will die tonight. Let’s make it as horrible as we can. Let him feel a fraction of what she’s feeling.
The sound of my phone ringing pulls me away from images of her, bound and sobbing, gritting her teeth against the pain.
“Boss,” Leon’s voice rumbles through the car speaker. His breathing is fast, voice tight.
“Talk.”
“I found her.”
Everything in me goes still, and I can still hear his fingers tapping furiously on the keys.
“Where?” The word is low.
“She’s underground, which we already know,” he says. “Under the fucking grey zone. There’s an old sublevel beneath the shipping yard. Zeke must have turned it into his home base.”
Under. Under the fucking grey zone.
My hands tighten on the steering wheel until my knuckles go white, my foot pressing harder on the accelerator.
“He’s baiting you,” Leon continues quickly. “He wants you to show up fighting. You fire first; it’s done. Every crew in the state will turn. They will fucking hunt us like animals.”
I take another turn too fast. The ute fishtails slightly before straightening. In the back, Howard slams against the side again with a hoarse shout.
“She’s under the grey zone,” I repeat, barely hearing Leon anymore.
“She is,” Leon confirms. “But listen to me, Ash. Zeke knows you. He knows you’ll shoot first.”
My vision edges read.
In my head, I see her again. Blood on her lips. Bruises on her face. The fucking rope around her throat. And Kai, hanging up like an animal.
“She could be dying,” I say, more voice quieter now.
My chest feels like it’s splitting open.
The ute roars down the wet highway toward the docks. Rain streaks across the windshield, blurring the world into grey and red.
“I know,” Leon says urgently. “I’m begging you, Boss. For us. For her. Please. Don’t shoot first.”