Chapter 12
Everly
I take a deep breath as my stomach rolls. The nausea is thankfully mild, and I haven’t done much actual throwing up, and it’s only really been noticeable the last two weeks.
It’s been two months since Tate brought me home, changing my entire life and we’re estimating I’m right about nine weeks based on my last period. We haven’t told anyone in the club just yet and haven’t been to the doctor, but that’s only because we’ve been dealing with the shitstorm that hit when Law filed the claim for inheritance two weeks ago. Since then, it’s been knocked back by both judges in town because there’s ‘no proof’ I’m the eldest blood child of the mayor. Just as we figured they would.
What we didn’t anticipate happening was my mother coming to me, asking me to drop it. I refused when it became clear that she was only concerned with her own safety. The news that two of the cops tried to rape me and that the chief of police was threatening to make me disappear to some jail or prison had no effect on her, not a flicker of remorse.
Tate sent her away, told her not to come back, and apparently whatever she did or whatever my ‘father’ has on her was massive enough to send her running. Not that she got far.
Her body was found two days later out near the trailer park. I dreaded going to see her but thankfully, it was the county sheriff’s department that had jurisdiction over it, versus the town’s police department, so I didn’t have to worry about anyone getting too close to me asking questions. But like I told the deputy who met us at the morgue, I hadn’t seen her in five weeks and only at the store for a minute when I did. I didn’t have a clue who might have been after her.
I felt sick at the thought of going into the room to look at her dead body and Tate told the deputy he would do it instead. It was a relief, and I stayed out where I was with Law while he handled that, coming back out to me with just a nod, telling me it really was her.
I didn’t cry then, and I still haven’t cried over her loss. She was never really a mother to me. Never treated me even half as well as Tate does, loved me even a tenth as much as him, so I don’t really have any regrets that she’s now gone.
The only thing her death has done, is given us a new avenue to get the proof that Adam Jackson is my biological father. Law came up with the idea to sue him for child support on behalf of my mother’s estate. It’s apparently an actual legal avenue an adult child can take, and our state doesn’t have a time limit on how far back it can go. He fought it but since child support cases go through a separate family court division rather the local courts where judges can sit over civil, criminal and probate matters, there was no one in his pocket to stop it.
The look on his face when we had the test done was one of fury, but that’s because Law requested the state’s lab be the one to run the DNA samples, not any of the local companies that were contracted and could collect the samples and send them off on the court’s behalf. Those he could manipulate. He wouldn’t be able to get into the state lab to find a weak leak before the samples were logged into their system.
The tests samples were sent off last week and we’ve been waiting for the results while staying close to the clubhouse. Tate’s not about to risk my safety right now, especially not since we’re pregnant.
The text from Law saying the case was to come back up this afternoon sometime is entirely welcome and yet not, because Tate can’t possibly make it in with me, so I’m headed to the courthouse to meet Law by myself. Something that I haven’t really been since going home with him. Even when I’ve been alone in our rooms, or in the library, there are still other people around the clubhouse. Crossing through the gate for the property and onto the road all by myself is a bit of a shock.
I really wish Tate was with me. His car is the epitome of luxury and driving it is great, but there’s this pit in my stomach that I can’t shake, which in turn is making the nausea worse. They had a fire at one of the shops, one that sells ammo and weapons they get through legal means but also lets them sell the illegal ones under the table through when someone might not find what they’re looking for otherwise. They’re certain it was arson, but they’re still trying to figure out where it started to figure out who might have set it.
He was hotter than I’ve ever seen, his anger shown in every word he uttered and every movement he made, and I wanted to be able to stay with him, calm him down if needed, but what happens in the courtroom today will dictate what happens next with the inheritance claim. It’s too important not to be at in person, to be able to get that court document that shows without a doubt, that creep is my biological father.
That pit I’ve felt since getting in the car simply grows when I pull into the lot next door to the courthouse, finding it eerily quiet. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything this deserted, and I slip my hand into the console, taking out the knife daddy gave me that I stashed there earlier since you can’t take it into the courthouse. I can always leave it at security, if needed. I simply feel safer with it on me.
I grab my bag, putting the key fob into my pocket and slip out to find Law. I don’t see his bike, but he may have walked over from the other side of the square rather than park it out front. He looks really odd wearing a suit while riding it. He looks really odd wearing a suit period actually, but that’s because I’ve seen him in his casual attire around the clubhouse and it fits his personality far more than a suit ever might.
Doesn’t mean he doesn’t know the law though, because honestly, he was able to find a legal argument for every objection Adam’s attorneys put up that would have compelled any other judge to force the DNA test then and there. One of the other lawyers that’d been in the same courtroom said we should file an appeal because the ruling appeared to be completely biased. Said we had enough of a case with the fact that my mother told me who my ‘father’ was multiple times over the years combined with the genetic characteristics like my hair and eye color that were recessive and much more likely to be dominant with a parents that shared them than one that didn’t. As well as the fact that his own wife had confronted me before about claiming to be his daughter, but never denied that I was when questioned, showed more than enough probable cause to have the test ordered.
Law simply nodded in agreement with it and carried on, looking for anything that could help us, until my mom died, giving us this avenue.
I move towards the sidewalk to come up around to the front of the building but as I go for the corner, something slams against the side of my head, and everything starts to go dark. I try to scream, to fight, but it hurts too much, it’s too deep and everything fades as I’m thrown onto a floor and I’m completely out.
???
My head pounds, my neck stiff as I come to with a jerk. My eyes instantly dart all around me, looking for an escape, and I push myself up off the concrete floor to go look for it. A drag against my leg keeps me from rushing and my heart clenches seeing the metal cuff shackled around it. There’s a thick chain attached to it that’s bolted to the wall, and I curse whoever the hell grabbed me and did this.
Who the hell do they think they are? The only one allowed to tie me up or cuff me is daddy and he sure as shit wouldn’t do it like this.
I look all around me, but it’s just one huge room. It looks like a basement. There aren’t any windows and the only thing other than a chair is a set of steps that come down from the ceiling.
My bag isn’t anywhere I can see with the dim glow from the lights overhead, and my hands slide down my sides, relief filling me when I feel the knife still in my pocket. Tears well up as I silently thank daddy for giving it to me. I don’t know who I’m dealing with, but that knife is the greatest lifeline I have right now. The only one I have until daddy comes looking for me.
Does he even know I’m missing? Law would have called him immediately when I didn’t show—especially if he found the car in the parking lot.
But how long has it really been? How long was I out for?
Does this have anything to do with the fire at the gun shop or is this some sick attempt by Adam to get me out of the way? Are they all one and the same?
Oh god, was there even a hearing called or was that a trick just to get me there? Out in public where I’d be easy to grab.
They’d have had no way of knowing I’d go by myself unless they did something to distract daddy. “Fuck,” I moan sliding down onto the floor, my back against the wall—literally.
This was all a set up. Everything from the fire down to the text from Law had to be a set up.
There’s no way he was in it with them though and he would have checked with the courts before contacting me if he’d gotten a random update about the case. Which only reasons that the text was a fake—a spoof. Law’s information was on the court filings and most likely someone at the police department or courthouse found my phone number. I don’t know if it was listed anywhere, but it’s possible. With as many people as Adam has working for him, it’s no shock that he’d have someone embedded in a clerical position in the courthouse.
My stomach rolls and I rub it, trying to stay calm but that’s about as useful as a toy squirt gun against a blazing inferno. The kind like was set at the shop.
It would have been more questionable if the fire was set after the news of the case being called. But the fire started around five this morning and the text from Law didn’t come until ten. Far enough apart that they didn’t seem to be connected at first glance. Not with the other enemies that the club has—people they’ve refused sales to, people they’ve ripped off shipments from, other clubs that think the Reapers stepped on their toes. Hell, even the cops in town could have been responsible for it simply because they were causing trouble for the club. It could have had nothing to do with me at all.
But I know it did.
I know it was to distract Tate, keep him from being at my side the way he was every other time I left the property. No one was getting in to get me. They had to get me out on my own and with Law in town researching another legal matter for the club, there was an opening to get to me, and I let them take it.
“I’m sorry, daddy,” I whisper softly, leaning my head back against the wall as it continues to throb. I wince as my fingers touch the spot. It’s tender but there’s no blood on my hand when I pull it back which I’ll take as a good sign.
Time marches on, how much I don’t know since I don’t have a watch, and there are sounds coming from above me. Footsteps and chairs scraping on the floor filter through and I debate about yelling, not sure if it’ll help or hurt me. Music starts and I curse, knowing they won’t be able to hear me over it. If there was someone out there with a conscious that could possibly hear me that is.
I get up, pacing back and forth, trying to come up with a plan to get out of this. There’s no way Adam will just let me walk out the door, not even if promise to sign over the company to him. He’s not going to let me live. He’ll kill me and my baby. Unless…
The tiniest bit of hope hits me, and I hold onto it, praying that it’ll be enough to give Tate time to find me—us. He’ll never stop searching for me. I know that. It’s just a question of it he finds me before Adam does something stupid or after.
I move between the chair and the floor over what seems like hours, until the squeak of a door opening and light filling more of the space draws my attention. I move behind the chair, keeping between it and the wall so no one can attack from behind or beside me without giving myself a fighting chance. I won’t go down without one this time. Won’t be sucker-punched again, that’s for damn sure.
My breath stalls when the bastard shows his face, a smirk on it that infuriates me. He looks certain of victory already, but my daddy taught me not to show weakness until victory was in hand. And my daddy’s right, because the only way to call my bluff, is to demand a copy of my will. And to do that, means having to go to daddy and Law about it, and I know Law would be able to quickly get it set up. I signed a ton of forms for him to have for the court filings. He could use one of them as a signature on a forged will. Between the guys in our club and Law’s, they’d make it happen.
“Finally, up are you? Here I was hoping they’d already taken care of my problem,” Adam states, coming closer and a sneer crosses his face as he looks me over.
My outfit is dirty from being on the ground. The once white blouse is now splotchy with grime and the black trousers show dust and animal hair all over them. “Where are we?”
“None of your business. Just know it’ll be where you die,” he replies, and I grit my teeth to not instantly throw up the idea of a will. He won’t buy it nearly as much if I make it easy.
“You’re not going to kill me. You don’t have the stomach for it,” I add when he just smirks. “You’d have your asshole buddy Thatcher do it. After all, he’s already a murderer.”
“He didn’t kill your mother,” Adam says, and I lift a brow his way, knowing for certain now that someone in his pocket did.
“I didn’t mean her. I’m talking about the half-dozen, maybe more, young gay men that he’s lured out to the woods and murdered for his and the rest of his buddies’ sick amusement,” I return.
He doesn’t show a flicker of shock at the news, but there is surprise on his face aimed my way. “Another of your sick embellishments,” he said, circling his finger near his head to claim I’m crazy.
“We both know it’s not. We’re alone, so why not drop the act because I don’t buy it for one moment. You had someone kill my mother. Why? What did she know that was so worrisome that you’d have her killed after seventeen years of keeping her silent with just intimidation?” I question, watching his face and the tells in it, gives me the upper hand. “Oh, come on, if you’re going to try and kill me, shouldn’t I know how you kept her leashed all these years? She’d have gladly brought me forward for even a hundredth of a percent of the money that Jackson Distributing brings in each year.
“Obviously it was more than some petty crime she was worried about being sent to jail for. She even came asking me to drop the suit, then you dropped her, why?” I demand, tightening my hand on the back of the chair as he moves closer to me. It’s not heavy which means I could use it against him as a weapon. It could distract him enough for me to be able to put the knife in his gut if nothing else.
“You won’t be leaving this room alive, so why not,” he says, his smirk growing as he leans closer. “Your mother was a real looker when she was younger. A hell of a fuck too. I didn’t know what she’d done until it was too late. Diane was seven months pregnant and couldn’t abort them, and I wasn’t entirely certain she was telling the truth. Not until they were born and their blood type meant it was entirely impossible for them to be mine.”
“The twins…aren’t yours?” I question, surprised that tell isn’t on his face. “How is that my mother’s fault and how would something like that keep her quiet all these years? She’d have shouted it from the rooftops if it meant getting money.”
“Your mother, like all of the town, knew where we were having fertility treatments performed. She seduced the doctor, convinced him to do a little switch with the sperm and she’d do anything he wanted. He did it and she did him when he wanted. Until one night, when the twins were about two weeks old, a pharmacy tech might have slipped him the little blue pill instead of his heart medication, so when your mother showed up, she fucked him to death. Of course, the chief switched out the pills for the correct ones before anyone noticed, putting them in her purse so her prints were all over them. And she was warned if she ever talked, ever tried to claim her disgusting brat was a Jackson, she’d wind up dead one way or another—either with my say-so, or in jail.”
“And why you can’t risk a DNA test being out there because even if I didn’t wind up being your biological offspring, it’s prove that they aren’t either, which would mean that the company gets sold off and you get nothing. No money to keep yourself in the mayor’s office. No money to bribe your way out whatever mess you and the cops create. You’re pathetic and it’s all going to come out as soon as those test results are entered into the court record. Give it up. You’ve already lost,” I say with a laugh that makes him glower my way.
“Doesn’t matter, because even if they are entered, with you dead, it’ll go to Paul when he’s eighteen—without the need for a DNA test.”
“Ah, see, we thought you might try something to off me,” I state with a shrug and another laugh that makes him glower harder. “Which is why I had a will set up. With the DNA test results expected any minute, it’ll become court documented proof that I unfortunately come from you. And with that, the inheritance becomes mine—or at least falls under my estate then—to be probated against my will, which leaves everything to my fiancé and/or children depending on when I die. And it won’t matter that I’m deceased, unlike other instances when who dies first matters, because your parents’ will clearly states that the company is to go to the eldest blood child. The word living is nowhere to be found, so between that and the DNA results, the court would award it to my estate then. So, really, you’re cooked. Anything happens to me, not only do you still lose the company and all that money, but Tate will hunt you down to the ends of the earth and murder you for taking me from him.”
“Guess I’ll just have to kill him first then,” Adam snaps, moving back towards the steps and I let out my breath bit by bit. “I’d get comfortable. You’re not going anywhere until I’ve got him and a new will dealt with, I’m sure it won’t take too long to find him out again. He was out all night from the sounds of it though god knows why he’d care about losing you. I suppose it’s the money he’s after as well. No one would want you if you were actually penniless.”
His words don’t begin to sting. Before daddy, they would have cut me deep, but now, I know Tate’s love is absolute. Nothing between us is a lie and it sure as hell isn’t about the money. No, the company is just a means to an end—of the corruption in our town.
I sink down on the chair, relaxing my body from my prepared for attack state, thankful that I’ve got plenty of curves that will keep me and the baby from harm for several days at least. Water might be an issue—as well as my bladder, I concede and I get up, moving around looking for anything I can use so I don’t literally pee my pants. There’s absolutely nothing. No bucket, not even a bowl, and I groan as I slip around the other side as far as the chain will allow me.
There’s a little spigot coming out of the wall and the floor dips just the tiniest bit, drawing my eyes to a drain. It’s better than nothing and I undo the button on my pants, pushing them down before pulling the legs of them up so they don’t accidentally get splashed. It’s just camping, I pretend in my mind and my bladder doesn’t seem to care about the lie, releasing a stream as soon as I squat down over the drain.
It’s an immense relief and I buckle my pants back before turning the spigot just a hint and a little stream of clear water runs out it. I only use it to wet my lips for now. Depending on how long I’m here may change that, but I’d rather wait and see what happens next. It’s been at least one night, so I’m sure Tate’s getting close to finding me. To putting together, the fire and the text and me disappearing by now. My daddy’s smart. He’ll find me. It’s only a matter of time.
Time which I find out drags on and on, feeling like an eternity when you have no way to gauge it. At least with the sun you can tell if it’s morning, noon, or night. In here, it’s endless and I sit and wait until my eyes grow too heavy to stay open.
Shouts bring me back awake, and I sit up ensuring I’m alone before following suit of what I did before I slept, using the drain to pee then wetting my lips enough not to feel parched. At least it’s cool down here, which means I haven’t sweated out the remaining water, but I know I’ll need to get some into me soon, especially with the baby. I may have to take a chance on the water coming out of the spigot being safe if they don’t bring me anything to drink soon.
Time goes on once more as I wait, and my breath stalls when feet come down the steps again. More than just one set this time, and I cringe when I see the chief of police headed down them with Adam.
“I thought I said to kill her already,” Thatcher says when he sees me move. “That was the damn plan you idiot. I can make it look like an accident where she tripped and fell and no one found her until it was too late, but not when it’s been two days!”
I guess that somewhat answers one of my questions but there are plenty more still looming.
“She has a will to leave it to that tattooed freak,” Adam fumes and the two of them argue back and forth, ignoring me which is fine. The more I can put a wedge between them the more time that gives Tate to find me.
“Enough,” Thatcher shouts as he pulls out his phone, a smirk settling onto his lips. “We’re hunting tonight. We’ll figure out what to do with her after that. Give her some water so she doesn’t die before we can get a new will arranged.”
“Are you out of your mind? Hunting now?” Adam questions and I fight to keep my face blank, hope’s hands settle onto my cool arms. “This is more important.”
“I’ve been reeling this one in for the last month. I’m not letting it slip away just because you were too stupid to kill her when we had the chance five years ago to make it look like suicide,” Thatcher shoots back and while I’m absolutely disgusted that they could even think of trying something like that after what Melissa did, hope’s arms wrap tightly around me, keeping me calm.
Cash, sweet, amazing Cash must have told daddy about our side op, and they have a plan. He wouldn’t be meeting up with Thatcher if they didn’t, and there’s no way there was another man who’d been dangling himself out there as bait for this long.
“Daddy’s coming for us, just hang on,” I whisper to our baby, knowing it can’t really hear me yet, but it helps keep me calm as I’m shut away alone once more.
It’s only for a shot time this go-around, but the person that steps off the stairs makes bile rise in my throat. Paul saunters towards me, a bottle of water in his hands and a smirk on his lips as his eyes slide over me. It’s still absolutely disgusting even if he isn’t really my half-brother. I’d never let him touch me and I move away from my spot as he draws nearer.
“You really think you can screw me over and take the company? You’re as stupid as you are fat, but I hear even fat asses are tight and I’m going to fuck yours one way or another,” he crows tossing the water onto the chair before coming at me fast. Too fast for me to be able to dart the other way without him grabbing the chain, and my hand slips into my pocket, taking out the knife as his attention is on my face.
I breathe harder but let him get close, and with daddy’s words running through my head as he reaches for the buttons of my blouse, I turn the blade flat, adjusting for his height versus the dummies daddy’s had me practice on, and with a small cry, I thrust it forward hard. I almost think I completely missed, until his body jerks and I pull out the knife, pushing him away from me as he begins to go down.
There’s no screaming or yelling, just the blankest expression as he gasps for breath, and I catch a cry in my throat when his arm goes completely limp, falling off his side onto the floor. I’m shaking as I wipe the blade off on his jacket, before putting it up and moving back towards the chair. From where we were, someone looking down the steps wouldn’t be able to see him lying there—dead—which gives me time to surprise whoever comes down here next.
The bottle of water looks delicious, but I don’t trust anything these people do, and I turn it over, inspecting the lid, checking for the tiniest puncture hole, before risking a drink. The coolness of it calms me, and I sit back, waiting, hoping daddy comes down those steps soon to take me away from this nightmare.
The squeak of the door has me on edge, and I move to a spot where I can protect myself once more as lighter steps come down the steps. “Paul! What the hell is taking so long?”
Melissa comes into view, her eyes fuming with anger as she looks over me. “Where’s my brother?” she demands, and I slip my hand onto the knife again, not about to take a chance with her. She’s crazier than all of them. I saw it when I was fourteen with the photo incident, but now, it’s even clearer.
“Over there,” I state, pointing towards his dead body.
“What did you do to him?” she shouts, hurrying to his side, a scream leaving her lips and she comes charging back towards me, faster than I expected, knocking me down onto the floor when she grabs the chain and pulls it. I hit back and butt first, feeling the wind get knocked out of me, and I try to roll to the side to protect myself but she’s on top of me before I make it.
Daddy’s words keep coming back to me as her arms flail my way, shifting her trunk around too fast for me to aim with any accuracy. She lifts her arm up to smack me, and I thrust the knife up, into her armpit and she falls off me, blood seeping through her fingers quickly as she grabs the wound. She hasn’t stopped screaming since I went down and I aim the knife once more, digging it into her lung I suspect as she starts to cough and sputter up blood, making a mess as she tries to push herself backwards away from me.
More footsteps are coming down the stairs, and I move quickly up off the floor. Diane looks at the mess of her daughter before her eyes land on me and she flies my way, faltering when she finally sees Paul on the other side of the room, but she’s too close to me for me to hesitate. If I do, it will be me and my baby dead on the floor, and I won’t let that happen.
My hand shoots forward, jamming the knife into her once, then twice. The first hopefully into her lung, but if not, I’m certain the second one was to the liver. Just like daddy taught me.
She drops where she is and I move backwards away from the carnage, my free hand protective over my belly as I catch my breath. It’s only for a moment though, because harder footsteps race down towards me, and I can’t stop the laugh that falls when Adam stops short, staring from Diane to Melissa then onto Paul and I hold up the knife with a smirk while the blood drains from his face.
“Maybe I’m not yours after all, I mean, I can at actually stomach to do it, especially to save what I love most. My daddy taught me how,” I state, and he lunges for me, his arms out reaching for my neck.
The blade slices through his white silk shirt like butter, staining it red before it even touches his skin. His scream cuts off, turning into a groan and I push him away, moving slowly back to the chair and settle onto it. I keep my knife in my hand, while I sip at the water, a little smile on my lips, waiting for daddy to come and take me home.