Chapter 22
Chapter twenty-two
Jackson
Three hours isn't enough time to lie with her, but I have more unfinished business to attend to. Madelyn sleeps next to me, her face peaceful except every so often a frown appears on her brow. I wonder if it appears there because of something I did or because of something he’s done.
I may ask her, but I also understand there are some things you just want to keep secret.
Maybe I just can’t bare knowing it’s because of me.
As soon as I released her from the swing, she collapsed, teary-eyed and exhausted.
I didn't know what to do with that. I figured she would be angry more than anything, and I can see that as justified behavior.
But crying? She even asked me to lie beside her, something that I was hesitant to do.
This may be part of her plan to get me more attached.
It's working and I fucking hate myself for it.
I'm not supposed to lose control. Not anymore.
So, I told myself I needed the rest. I fell asleep while watching her breathe. Like a goddamn stalker.
Gateley told me his party would start around midnight, but I should hang back in case anyone noticed my presence.
I agreed for more than one reason. One because he's right and two because him being occupied gives me an opportunity to use his office without being hovered over. This is the only place I know that my brother’s cameras can't hack into, and I intend on taking advantage.
Madelyn rolls over, her face now in front of mine.
Tear tracks are etched down her cheeks, but at least she is not letting new ones fall.
She allowed her wall to slip back into place.
Mine has too. Except now, Madelyn has put cracks in my foundation.
A mistake that I can’t allow. I have two paths to choose from, and Madelyn is not on one of those.
Just not possible. Not when my brother and I brother’s lives have been entangled since we were born.
When this whole thing started, she was supposed to be a warm body to keep me company until I disposed of her, and that is what she has to remain.
Madelyn calls out from her sleep, her arms stretching out to find me.
As she stretches, the top of the blanket slips down, revealing both tits and the small amount of fabric around them.
I can feel the pull to go to her. To be that comfort she seeks, but I can't fucking do it.
I curse under my breath as I hop out of bed.
Grabbing my pants, I move to the glass wall.
Feeling, my fingers bump against a button carefully placed there.
I press it, allowing the room next door to be visible.
I doubt Madelyn knew this was a two-way mirror.
Gateley will do anything to get money into his bulging pockets, including letting people watch unsuspecting guests get fucked.
Which is not what I want to see. Not at this moment, anyway.
My eyes scan the room, counting six females and ten males.
All naked. All fucking a hole one way or another.
I stop when I find him. Gateley, bent over a couch, cock hammering a very happy Sam. Good.
Flipping the switch off, I pull my pants up, slip the phone that I used to call Oliver into my pocket, and head for the door. Now that I know the party is in full swing, I can set off with hopefully minimal problems.
I grab the keys that Gateley conveniently gifted me and unlock the door.
Stale air greets me in the hallway as I gently close the door to lock it.
A grunt breaks the silence, and I look over to see Gateley’s personal bodyguard, Moe, standing in front of the door of fun.
He stands about six feet tall, with broad shoulders and a curved distinct nose.
Given his line of work, it’s probably been broken at least a dozen times.
I shift my way toward him with a nod, “Problem?” I ask, knowing full well he can't question my activities. One perk of being on Gateley’s wall of pictures.
He studies me while he adjusts his tie on his business suit. “You look like a fucking biohazard.” Moe has always been one to tell the truth. And as much as it pisses me off to say it, I admire him for that.
Peering down at myself, Madelyn’s blood covers my hands.
Nothing new about that situation. It's very rare that somebody's bodily fluids are not on me.
Nevertheless, I probably should have washed up before I came out here.
Too late now. I shrug, “Is fucking all that's going to happen in there?” My intuition is saying no, but still I'd like to know now if I need to be prepared for anything.
“I'm not at liberty to say, Sir,” Moe replies matter effectively.
Well, that confirms I’m right.
“Do you need any assistance?” Moe asks, his tone dry.
As much as I want to know exactly what Gateley is up to, I cannot lose this opportunity to dig up more information without having to answer a thousand questions. “I do not.” He flinches as I pat him on the shoulder. “I’ll let you get back to work then, and I will take my leave.”
“Fucking cunt murderer,” he mutters under his breath. I secretly laugh as I notice him frantically cleaning the spot where my hand was.
Gateley’s place is a maze of interconnecting offices, labs, and fuck rooms. He has always been an entrepreneur of all things illegal.
And after so many drug deals went bad, he even added his own personal burial site to the grounds.
I admit, in the past, I've been in almost every room of his compound and seen and done many things, even before I went to prison.
I've always known I had a flare for murderous activities, and I'm not pissed off that I had to serve time. What fucking infuriates me is the fact that my brother has not. He is a lying sack of shit for pinning murders on me. And not just any murders. The murder of my family. Our family. Our parents. Not that my dad didn’t deserve death.
He was evil in his own way. I lost count of how many times his hands wrapped around my throat.
Secretly, I believe he was proud of Jamison and protected him.
Mom, though, goddamn it. She was good. Always there.
Always trying. Just fucking clouded by my brother and father.
She was counting on me to be the good one. I failed her in so many ways.
I turn the corner, leading back to Gateley’s office, and meet another guard. This one I don't know. He sees me, nods, and walks on by with a cooler. Gateley was always one to get his guests plastered before the illegal shit happens. Impaired people are easier to hurt and make for a cleaner job.
To my surprise, there's no one guarding his office. I guess it's more important to him to have his first command by the front door of the room his currently occupying while the rest go around, doing his bidding. But if it were me, I would have had a motherfucker in place here.
Without wasting anymore time, I turn the knob and walk right in. No sirens. No red flashing lights. No one to ambush me…yet. It appears Gateley was prepared for me to come back.
It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting in the room.
The security cameras are still on. Each screen changes to a new space every thirty seconds.
In only a few minutes, I see the hallway of my room and where Gateley is at and breathe a sigh of relief to see Moe still standing there.
The screen changes, and I catch a glimpse of Madelyn sleeping on the bed.
That bastard told me he was going to cut the cameras off in our room.
I clench my hands into fists. Just thinking about him watching her on the screen makes my head pound.
He asked me what I was doing with a pair of eyeballs, and I told him the truth.
If he were to come through the door right now, it would take everything in me not to take his too.
My fists hit his desk with a loud thud. Once.
Twice. Five times? In the heat of the moment, I lose count.
The room blurs, and all I know is the short stabbing pain comes from my hands.
Holding them up, fresh bruises and blood appear.
She’s just one girl. Why do you care that he sees?
The screen flashes again to reveal the fuck room I've been so eagerly wanting to get an update on.
This allows me to clear my thoughts as I lean closer to get a better look.
Most of them are still going at it, minus a couple in the corner.
I can't quite make out what they are up to.
However, the cooler has now made an appearance because it sits by the entryway.
Disappointing, and yet not entirely surprising.
If Gateley is up to something more, it drags it out.
Always one to enjoy the terror he evokes; he can torture someone for hours.
Me, on the other hand, I don’t have the patience.
Although I could learn to enjoy it. My mind goes not only to Jamison but Oliver. Those two, I will take my time with.
The screen changes again to show a hallway that leads to the kitchen.
Nothing to see there as the area is clear of people.
I turn my attention back to the desk and take a seat.
Gateley didn’t bother to clean up where he offered me a chance to stitch my wounds.
Gauze, needles, alcohol, and tweezers line up across the back portion of his desk, while the front is clear of any debris.
I tap my finger against the mouse, waiting for the monitor to come back on.
The computer powers up and I’m greeted with a full view of Gateley’s naked body, cock included, on the screen.
Self-absorbed bastard. I force myself to look through the folders and tabs he’s placed strategically, no less, around his favorite bits.
A smile somehow plants itself on my lips when I found the icon I’ve been looking for.
The search database icon sits right below his ball sack.
This is his way of getting back at me for coming in here without him.
In truth, he just likes to fuck with me, and most of the time I fuck right back.
Except, apparently, when Madelyn is involved.
I click on the database while my feet tap against the floor.
Sweat forms on my brow from the nerves pulsing through my veins.
In prison, I wasn’t able to keep up with Jamison’s every single move.
I did, however, follow all the reported crimes in the area by using Cecelia’s computer after she passed out from our fuck sessions.
There were a shit ton of missing people or murdered women that were in, what I knew was, his area of the state.
Yet, it was always someone else getting the charge, or no one at all.
His typical MO. That’s neither here nor there.
He could have continued doing what he loved if he hadn’t taken out mom.
That’s where he went wrong, and that’s why he’s got to pay the price.
Lines appear on the screen as the database finally loads.
Here, I can search anyone, anyplace, everything my small, corrupted heart desires.
It’s the beauty of a government program that slipped into the hands of a criminal.
After inputting Jamison’s name, the system tells me his last known location, which is only about twenty minutes away.
My fingers grip the side of the desk. What poetic justice it will be to slice into him.
The picture of a flashing camera catches my attention, and I press it, hoping it is what I think it is.
I hold my breath as the screen changes to live footage of his property.
My whole body shifts closer to take in everything in front of me.
The system has embedded itself into my brother’s security cameras and is streaming a live feed of every room in his house.
I note everything and burn it into memory.
To the main rooms, bathrooms, bedrooms, and especially his torture chamber.
Two people appear to be occupying the space, but from how they are hanging, they don’t seem to be having a good time.
I wait for the system to scan every room and the outside, but Jamison isn’t there.
There is only one other person who shows up on the feed, and he is on a couch in front of a T.V.
The dark makes it difficult to notice every feature but as I study him, I realize he is just an old man-frail and bald-headed.
I stay watching his feed, unable to break away. My eyes scan every surface. Every little hiding place. Even with limited light, I have committed to putting his entire house in my mind. He won’t have too much of an advantage if I know his place just as much, he does.
Suddenly, the camera shifts to a room it has yet to show me.
Flickers of light dance across pictures that line the walls.
Candles are lit around the entire room, yet it sits empty.
Except for the two long objects, I can pinpoint the shape too any time.
My vision blurs at the realization of what I am seeing.
Scanning, eyes locked, I gaze into the screen and conclude that those are indeed coffins.
And those pictures are not just random. My parents’ faces peer back at me.
This is a fucking shrine, and he dug them up.
I click off the database, eyes seeing red. The only thing stopping me from leaving right now and going to him is Madelyn. Tension releases as I slam my fist into the wall. She’s a loose end. A goddamn loose end, and I have no one to blame but myself for it.