Chapter 15
CHAPTER 15
IRISH
T wo weeks later.
Irish's boots thudded heavily against the worn carpet of Joseph James’s apartment corridor, his strides purposeful and laden with barely constrained anger. As a Navy SEAL, he’d seen his share of trouble, but the abuse he’d inflicted on Makenzie twisted his gut in a way that combat never could. As he approached apartment 3B, he drew in a deep breath, the scent of stale cigarettes and old wood seeping into his senses. He raised a clenched fist and hammered on the door.
“Open up. We need to talk. Now,” Irish demanded, his voice gravelly with suppressed rage. Savage and Hunter stood next to him, ready to do whatever was necessary.
Moments passed, each ticking by like a countdown to an explosion. Finally, the door cracked open, revealing the man’s startled face. His eyes widening with surprise, at the three large men filling his doorway. Before he could slam the door, Irish stuck his booted foot in the way.
“Do I know you?” The overweight, fifty something year-old man asked. Catfishing Makenzie had been the least of his crimes.
“Cut the crap,” Irish growled, pushing past Eugene into the modest living room. “Hacking Makenzie’s Little Life, doxing people and blaming her. The threats and text messages. They're sick, twisted. And I want answers and I want them now.”
“Makenzie?” The man dared to act like he didn’t know who Irish was speaking off.
“What’s all that noise?” A shrill voiced asked before a tall blonde woman appeared. Irish’s jaw dropped open.
Jamie.
He'd know the bitch from anywhere. He’d studied Makenzie’s LittleLife profile and read every message exchange multiple times. What the fuck was she doing here?
Joseph staggered back a step, a hand raking through his greasy unkempt hair. “Hacked account? I don't know what you're?—"
“Stop playing innocent!” Irish barked, his control slipping. He took a deep breath and counted backward from twenty. He towered over the other man. His presence filled the room like a storm cloud. “I've seen it all. Those messages, the released sex tapes, the veiled and not so veiled threats. I’ve read how you spoke to her when you were dating. It’s all vile, manipulative. And you, Jamie. Your narcissistic controlling behaviors nearly ruined her life.”
“Like the little whore was innocent,” Jamie spat. “She burst onto the scene like a fucking ray of sunshine after a storm and tried to wiggle her way into everyone’s lives. She came in hard and fast. If you want to play with fire, you are going to get fucking burned. She deserved every last thing she got, and then some.”
“What did you do?” Joseph turned to Jamie. “What the fuck did you do?”
“Wait a second.” This time it was Hunter speaking from the doorway. “What if we have it wrong, Irish? Didn’t you say the post read like a female wrote them?”
The wheels turned quickly in Irish’s head. He closed his eyes, bringing forth the post on LittleLife. The ones where the person who hacked Makenzie’s account doxed the other Littles.
“When was the last time you were on LittleLife?” He turned to Joseph.
“What the fuck is LittleLife?” The response took the air out of Irish’s lungs. The betrayal was that much deeper. He slowly turned to where Jamie stood.
“Jamie.”
“Who the fuck is Jamie?” Joseph asked. “Why do you keep calling my wife that name?”
Of course, they wouldn’t use their real names.
“You three need to get out of my house before I call the cops,” Jamie demanded. Instead of following her demand, the men moved further into the apartment and shut the door. Savage and Hunter stood in front of the door, blocking the exit.
Jamie reached for her cellphone. “Before you call 9-1-1, you should see this.” Irish reached into the back of his jeans and pulled out a manilla envelope and threw it across the room at Jamie.
“What is it?” Joseph asked.
“Evidence. Evidence of everything you and your wife have been doing on LittleLife going back a decade. Turns out, Makenzie wasn’t the only woman you two played. How much money have you scammed women out of? How many innocent women did you pretend to Daddy?” Irish whipped around and stared at Joseph.
“Look, I swear I don’t know what you are talking about. Daddy? I had a fucking vasectomy. I don’t have children and if anyone says I do, they are lying.” Joseph’s voice wavered under Irish's scrutiny, but his gaze held firm. “I don’t know a Makenzie or what a LittleLife is.”
Irish studied Joseph, searching his face for any hint of deceit. “You expect me to believe that?” Irish spat out, anger lacing his every word. But behind the fire in his eyes, uncertainty crept in. Was it possible he was wrong? “Makenzie facetimed with a man, not a woman.”
“If she facetimed, she saw his face. Call her. Call her right now. She’ll tell you it wasn’t me.”
“She never saw his face or his body. Just heard his voice.” Irish said.
“Fine! Call her up! I’ll talk to her. She won’t know my voice.”
“She won’t know his voice, Irish.” Hunter said. He was leaning against their door, casually watching the confrontation unfold.
“Because it wasn’t him. It was her. I don’t know how she did it but look at her. I’ve been watching her reactions to your accusations and the smug bitch smirks every time you accuse him of something she did.”
“Believe what you want,” Jamie lifted her chin defiantly.
“I'm telling you. I don’t know what the fuck you are talking about,” Joseph said again. The intensity between them crackled, two men caught in a tug-of-war of trust and accusation. Irish's hands itched to shake the truth out of Joseph, yet a sliver of doubt restrained him. What if Hunter was right? What if Joseph had nothing to do with any of it.
“Is this about those stories you write?” Joseph turned to his wife. “Those fucking perverted stories about women being sexual slaves to men or some shit? I let you frequent those BDSM websites as much as you want. The only rule I had was for you to keep me out of it.”
“If you don’t know what I’m talking about then explain this,” Irish demanded, his voice a low growl barely contained. He grabbed the packet of papers from Jamie and thrust it into Joseph’s face. Irish’s gaze stayed locked on Joseph, searching for any flicker of guilt.
“What is it?”
“Our buddy was able to get all sorts of information on you. The GoFundMe’s that you lied to people about, getting sympathy and their hard-earned money due to a car accident that never happened, to help pay for funeral costs for a still born baby in a pregnancy that never existed and don’t get me started on your so-called cancer treatments. Thousands of donated dollars that just so happen to coincide with the expensive fucking vacations you went on. They were timed suspiciously around tax time to cover the money you owed the IRS from your books failing.” The color drained from Joseph’s face.
“You told me they were book advances.” He stalked toward his wife. “You scammed people out of money? You committed extortion? How could you?”
“Not only everyday people on GoFundMe but women, like my girlfriend Makenzie. How did you do it, Jamie? How did you convince her you were him?” Irish wanted answers and he wanted them now. Makenzie was going to be gutted knowing it was Jamie who she’d been obeying and dating all that time.
“Women who were stupid enough to enter into long distance online relationships with men they’ve never met deserve the consequences they receive. I used a voice changer app and stole pictures from other users on KinkLife. It wasn’t hard. These girls are desperate for attention, desperate for love, they’ll do anything to get it. I groom them, talk to them like they are a character from my novel. Then, once they are addicted to me, addicted to my dominance over them, I get them to send me money. They do it too. Every one of them but fucking Makenzie.”
“Why didn’t Makenzie send you money?” Hunter asked causally. While he appeared calm, cool, and collected, Irish recognized the other man’s body language. He was ready to snap both of their fucking necks.
Jamie leaned forward, her fingers brushing against the arm of the couch. “Because I didn’t want her money. No, Makenzie was different. She didn’t come along desperate to find a Daddy. She infiltrated my friend’s groups, she tried to replace me. She wanted to be me. Writing stories like mine. Telling the other girls not to listen to me anymore. It was me or her, and I sure as hell wasn’t about to give up the kingdom that I worked entirely too hard to build. I gave her exactly what she wanted, a Daddy. A Daddy that wouldn’t let her write anymore. A Daddy who wouldn’t let her hang out with my friends anymore. I punished her for stepping out of line.”
“She was hospitalized for the way you treated her!” Savage growled. “She could have died.”
Irish's knuckles whitened as he clenched his fists, he’d never hit a woman and he wouldn’t hit one now, but damn it, if the urge wasn’t there. The difference between a man and a beast was the ability to control oneself. He would control himself and not let her goad him into violence. She might have manipulated Makenzie, using Makenzie’s own insecurities against her, but she wouldn’t manipulate him. Relaxing his fist, he hung his hands down at his side, determined to see this through.
“It would have been her own damn fault. She was the one not eating or drinking. At any time, she could have blocked the number and went on with her life, instead, she picked up every time I called. And oh, to watch that adorable face of hers scrunch up and beg for one cup of water, just one. I made her weigh out each ounce all the while telling her what a fucking waste of human life she was and then, after she would put the cup to her lips and get a taste, I’d make her put the cup down. Sometimes, she would have to sit at the table and stare at the water, water she wasn’t allowed to drink for hours while I masturbated to her sobs. None of this is illegal. She chose to call me. She chose to obey me.” Jamie spat.
Irish took a menacing step forward, he’d heard enough. The hand on his shoulder stopped him.
“How many CIA black sites have openings for a female prisoner?” Irish turned to Hunter, keeping his voice deceptively calm.
“A female American prisoner?” Hunter’s ironic laugh filled the room. “Multiple. I know a few with terrorists who have a certain kind of love for American women. Serial rapist who take joy out of maiming their victims. Of course, there are a couple guards there, but you know, these cites… once detained there, you never return.”
“Make the call,” Irish told him. He waited until Hunter left the room before turning back to Jamie. “You messed with the wrong girl. She trusted you and it landed her in the hospital. She trusted you and because of that trust, she now finds it hard to trust any other human being. Don’t worry though, while you enjoy your stay in a CIA black site, she’ll be sleeping comfortably in my arms at night.”
“Are we talking about the same Makenzie? She’s fucking mentally ill, dude. If I were you, I’d get her some real help. Who the fuck has a personality so dependent on another person she lets herself get to almost death before she sticks up for herself? Someone told me she got counseling after her close call. I don’t know if there’s enough counseling in the world for that headcase.” Jamie laughter choked Irish in rage. Savage stepped forward, putting himself as a shield between the two of them. It wasn’t necessary. Irish would remain in control of himself, for Makenzie.
“Makenzie is a beautiful, intelligent and kind human being. After all the pain you caused her, she offers nothing but forgiveness. I am not as easily swayed toward forgiveness.”
“Do you think she was innocent in all of this? Did you read what she said to me? What she did?”
“I read her part in all of this. She lashed out in rage, and she was damn justified in doing so. Could she have made better choices? Absofuckinglutely. But nothing she said or did was worthy of the punishment you gave her. You tortured her for months, turned her friends against her, broke her heart. What I don’t get is why did you dox your friends? Why did you hack her account and bring it all back to the surface? Why couldn’t you let it all go?”
“You weren’t the only one snooping around. Her friend Beth wouldn’t walk away. When Joseph started talking to another girl, she’d pop into their inbox and warn them away. She messed with my income. She started to investigate my GoFundMes, making accusations of fraud. Stirring up trouble. One of my close friends started to believe her. Makenzie’s account coming back and the doxing with the distraction I needed. The girls ran to me, begging me to help. They had to play cleanup in their marriages, they didn’t have time to focus on me anymore. And it would have worked if Makenzie hadn’t started dating you.”
“I’m not just dating Makenzie. I’m her Daddy. I love her with everything I have. It is my job to protect her, to keep her safe from scumbags like you. I’ll love her for the rest of my life, and I’ll spend every day of it making her happy and convincing her she’s worthy of joy, love and companionship. She’s a beautiful light that pierces the darkness of evil. You will never have the love that we have. See, unlike your husband, I accept Makenzie for who and what she is. I nourish her and support her Little side and always will. She doesn’t have to hide from me.”
“That’s sweet and all, but I’m sure as fuck not going to no CIA black site.” Jamie reached under the couch cushions and pulled out a handgun. She waived in the air wildly before pointing it at Irish. “Not only am I not going anywhere, neither are you. Just think of how much more pain your death is going to cause Makenzie. She’ll spend the rest of her life blaming herself and wishing she was the one who’d died instead.”
Before Irish could respond, the door flew open with a suddenness that made Irish's heart hammer against his ribs. Sean’s silhouette filled the doorway.
“Everyone just calm the fuck down,” Sean said, his voice a low rumble as he stepped into the cramped apartment. He didn't look at Irish but focused on Jamie, who seemed to shrink back despite herself. “Put down the gun, Jamie. We have more than enough evidence to take you in. Feds are here, the building’s surrounded. It’s time to walk away while you still can.”
Irish watched Sean move, his stride confident as he approached Jamie. The tension in the room thickened, clinging to Irish's skin like the summer humidity of their childhood days. Jamie moved the gun from Sean to Irish and back again. Savage moved slowly, around the back of the couch. Irish, seeing him, engaged Sean in conversation to distract Jamie.
“Sean,” Irish started, his words laced with the frustration that bubbled up inside him. “You weren't there to see how much pain this caused Makenzie. Prison is too good for this sociopath.” His gaze pierced into Sean's, begging him. There were dozens off the books black sites around the world that Hunter’s team used to dispose of truly bad people.
“No. She’s American and while she did some fucked up stuff, and against my own sister, I can’t let a personal vendetta get in the way of her rights. She’s not a terrorist, or a threat to the safety and security of our country. Believe me, this is what Makenzie would want.”
“Brother,” Sean replied, his eyes steady, “you think I'd cover for anyone messing with Makenzie? I’ve arranged for Jamie to be transported to the highest security federal women’s prison in the country. It’s not Guantanamo Bay, but it’s not the fucking Waldorf either.” His stance was unyielding, the protective shadow of the big brother looming large in the dim light of the apartment. “Makenzie would never forgive either of us if we did the wrong thing here.”
“Now.” Irish said, lunging for Jamie’s feet, right as Savage wrapped his arms around her waist the gun crashed to the ground as several federal agents came rushing into the room. Irish watched in satisfaction as Sean slammed the handcuffs over her wrist and read her rights.