Chapter twenty
The Level Boardroom
Harrison
“Tell us again what she said,” I say. Samantha screws her face up, annoyed, then flicks her blonde hair over her shoulder.
“She said,” she speaks painfully slow, emphasizing each word.
“That her father had agreed she is to move back to Chicago with the married man who knocked her up.”
With her head cocked to one side, her eyes focus on me and widen.
“You know, the bastard who pinned her to the wall in your apartment by her throat.”
“Yes, I’m aware of who he is. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“This is bullshit!” Russell barks, jumping to his feet.
He storms around the table and leans over the woman sitting in the chair.
We are all in The Level, our little band of six vigilantes and this woman we don’t know who turned up on my doorstep telling me Violet is being married off to the man who she ran away with years ago. “My father wouldn’t allow it.”
“Are you calling me a liar?” Samantha hisses.
“Get out of my face, you arrogant piece of shit.”
Russell gawks at her. She pushes his chest.
“I said fucking move.” He steps backward.
We all watch on in awe. Samantha stands and looks up at him, openly furious.
He’s much taller than her—he dwarfs her slim frame.
“Don’t ever invade my space again, you creep. Who the hell do you think you are?”
“My father wouldn’t allow Violet to go back to Chicago with that asshole,” he says, sounding like a petulant schoolboy. Crossing his arms over his chest, he narrows his eyes at her. She doesn’t move.
“He isn’t allowing it. He’s fucking arranging it. Catch up, you absolute idiot,” she says bluntly.
Hunter bursts into laughter, and Russell glares at him.
“Were you not listening to a word I said? Your father has been complicit this whole time. He left Violet in Chicago because the arrangement suited him.”
“Oh, she’s gutsy,” Hunter shouts across the room. “I like her.” Everyone ignores him.
“You’re nothing but a cheap whore,” Russell spits. “Why should we believe you?”
Before Samantha can reply, Connor steps forward and places a hand on his brother’s arm.
His eyes run over her from top to bottom.
As usual, he has stood in the shadows until now.
“Why would she?” he says, turning to his brother.
“What benefit is it to this woman to come here and lie? It doesn’t make sense. We both know our father can’t be trusted. We both have felt the sharp end of his retribution.”
His focus moves to Samantha. “Is my sister still at our parents’ house? How are you able to communicate with her?”
“She has a phone. Your mother checks her messages daily. We call each other when we can. She’s told me pieces of the story over the past few weeks. Today, she took a risk and phoned me as soon as your father told her what was to happen. She said to contact Harry and tell him she needs his help.”
Her eyes focus on me and narrow. “You need to get your shit together and stop running away from how you feel. Step up.”
“I’m not running anywhere,” I reply sharply. “Things aren’t straightforward. And you have no idea what I feel.”
“I know a jealous man when I see one,” she says with a smirk. “And the thought of Violet with another man is eating you alive. When I mentioned her getting married, your eyes all but popped out your head.”
I’d moved to stand with my back against the wall to give myself a full view of the room while Russell had his meltdown.
Hunter and Damon sit opposite me in deep leather chairs.
Marshall is at the head of the glass table, out of his seat but in his position.
Russell and Connor stand next to Samantha to my right.
She turns away from them and walks over to me, stopping directly under my nose. Her eyes search my face.
“Harrison,” she says, “are you trying to tell me that you don’t love her?”
The words said out loud are terrifying. I don’t love anyone, and no one loves me.
“Did you storm into Guilty Pleasures like a bear because you don’t care for her?”
she asks. “You dragged me upstairs here and phoned all these men to come help in the middle of the night because your feelings for Violet are nothing but platonic.”
Her lips widen into a grin. Bright-white teeth glint between ruby-red lips.
“Is that what you’re trying to make me believe? Because I’m telling you now, it’s not working.”
“I don’t need to explain myself to you,” I answer. My voice is level but inside I’m in turmoil. Samantha has me worked out. I love Violet, even if I don’t want to admit it to myself.
“Perhaps not,” she says with a shrug. “But you and she are owed at least honesty about how you feel about each other. And.”
She pauses and her hand swipes through her hair.
Though she’s brazen, this woman is nervous being here with us.
“She doesn’t deserve to be left to a life of being the second choice for some bastard who has no respect for her, an evil asshole who has bought her. We need to get her out somehow.”
“That I agree with. We need to stop him taking her back to America.” I look over the top of Samantha’s head to Russell and Connor behind. “Will you help me?” I ask them. “I’m doing this with or without your support. I believe what Samantha is telling us.”
“I’ll help you even if these boneheads don’t,” Marshall interrupts, walking over to stand beside me.
“There is no way on this earth I’d let that woman on a plane back to where she ran from. Whether Edward Chase is involved or not, if there is any truth to what is being said, then we need to intervene.”
He looks at Samantha. “We’ve known each other a while—you’re not a liar. I’ve seen you deal with awful situations at the club and maintain your dignity. I believe you’re telling us what you’ve been told. And, it’s our responsibility to find out the truth of the situation.”
“Thank you, Marshall,” she says, and her body visibly relaxes with his words.
Damon and Hunter rise, walking around the table to join us. A strong hand squeezes my elbow. “Whatever you need, Waite,” Damon says, “we will both be there at your side.”
“Too right,” Hunter agrees. He glances at the Chase brothers, who are standing watching the events unfold.
“What do you say, boys? Is it not time your father learned that he can’t push all you kids around? If what this lady is saying turns out to be true, and if your sister was left in Chicago on your father’s orders, then you’ve all been lied to, too.”
“We need to find out the truth, Russ,” Connor says. His brother nods but doesn’t speak. He moves to sit on the chair nearest to him, and we all follow his lead and take our seats around the table to discuss our next move.
An hour later, Samantha holds the handset in both hands as she looks out over the city. The sun has started to rise over the rooftops. She messaged Violet thirty minutes ago, but there’s been no response yet. “She normally replies within minutes,” she says, her voice laced with anxiety.
“It’s still the middle of the night,” I tell her. “She’s probably sleeping, and I would imagine her phone is on silent. She won’t want to bring too much attention to it. Violet is smart. Do you know if she is speaking to anyone else outside the house?”
She shakes her head.
“You don’t know or she isn’t?”
“She isn’t.”
“How can you be sure?”
“My number is one of the few allowed on her phone. It’s only mine and her parents, I believe. Everything else is blocked. They only let her speak to me because she managed to convince them I had no connections that could help.”
Her eyes stare at the blank screen as though willing it to light up with a message.
“What if they’ve been listening to her calls? What if they know she asked me to come here? To get help?”
“If that is true, they’ll move her. They will need to anyway, with the progression of her pregnancy. I would imagine Aiden will want her back in Chicago soon.” As I go to open my mouth, her phone lights up with the name Violet. Samantha answers and lifts the handset to her ear.
“Hello, Violet, is that you? Are you all right?” she asks rapidly. I tap her shoulder; her eyes flick to me.
“Put the phone on speaker,” I tell her, and she does as I request.
“Yes, it’s me,” Violet whispers. My nerves steady slightly on hearing her voice.
“I’m all right. Were you able to get help? Things are progressing fast here—there are a lot of men in the house. My father came ten minutes ago and told me to pack because I would be leaving tonight.”
A sob escapes her, and I pluck the phone from Samantha’s grasp.
“Vi,” I say firmly, “we are going to get you out of there. You can’t panic about this, it’s not good for you or the baby.”
“Harry,” she gasps, “she found you. I need your help. I can’t go back to Chicago. He’ll lock me up. I’ll be his prisoner.” All the men in the room watch on silently. “I’m scared.”
“Where are you now?” I ask her, ignoring her panicked tone. We need as much information as possible from her to create a plan. I need to keep her calm.
“In my room. I’ve locked the door, but they will be coming for me soon.”
“Do you know how they plan to move you? Where to?”
“No,” she replies, her voice rising. “He won’t tell me anything.” She starts to lose control, her breathing quickening.
“Vi, you need to stay relaxed,” I tell her, my voice firm.
I look at Hunter. “Can you get men down there? Watch the gate, and if anyone comes and goes, report back to us.”
Hunter salutes, then pulls his phone from his jeans pocket.
He stands and disappears out into the hallway to give his men their instructions.
“Harry,” Violet calls down the line, bringing my attention back to her. “Please don’t withdraw from me again. Don’t leave me on my own.”
“I won’t. I’m coming to get you, and this time I’m not letting you go.” My mouth dries. The thought of losing her is chilling. “Violet, I…”
“Someone is coming,” she whispers, interrupting me. “What if they’re here to take me?”
“Listen to me—I’m not leaving you on your own. I’m coming to get you. Leave the phone on so we can hear what is happening. Put it in your pocket.”
My words are clear and sharp. “Vi, leave the phone on,” I repeat.