Chapter 64
Home.
The word means something else entirely rolling off his tongue.
Gently he places me on my bare feet, making sure I can stand on my own before releasing me completely. He doesn’t ask for the gun back, and honestly, I want to keep it. It’s been so long since I was able to protect myself, now that I can, I don’t want to relinquish the feeling.
He kneels next to Richmond’s body, unzipping the tactical vest, and pulling off the unsoiled shirt. He stands, turning back to me, and sliding the black t-shirt over my head. Without words, he helps me navigate my tired arms through the holes, then slips the heavy vest onto my shoulders.
“I know it’s a lot, but it’s stocked full of weapons in every pocket and bulletproof plates. It will keep you safe.”
What about you? I want to say, looking up to his hardened gaze.
“I’ll be fine. Chances are Reid has this place emptied out, since he’s turned off the fire alarm.”
I furrow my brows.
“Reid is the butler.”
Wait… The place is emptied out? Where is Chelsea? Where would she go?
I heard blips of the conversation while dipping in and out of consciousness. Maximus said she was never here, but that’s a bold-faced lie. I grab Rip’s hand, trying to drag him to the door, panic gripping me like a vice.
“What’s the matter? We don’t have to rush, it’s over.”
I drop his hand, moving toward the door and leaving him behind with a huff.
“Hey!” he calls after me, but I’m slowly leaning out the door, gun in hand, making sure the coast is clear before heading down the hallway.
I make it all of one step before Ripley’s arm bands around my waist, tugging me back. “Wait for me. You’re going the wrong way.”
Pulling another pistol from under his shirt like a fucking magician, he steps out. Swinging his gun left, then right, before silently moving down the hall, beckoning with his fingers for me to follow.
What else does he have hidden under that gore-covered button-up?
We come upon a destroyed kitchenette. Blood is smeared across the floor, Brad lying pale and cold within the centre of the crimson lake. There’s glass everywhere, broken appliances, and shattered cabinetry.
My sights dance to Rip. Did he do this?
His mouth is a firm line, though a parade of emotions can be seen within his dark eyes. He extends his hand to me, breaking his line of sight to Brad.
Rip pulls me into his chest, nuzzling into my hair and breathing deep. He scoops me up, tossing my body onto his shoulder. I squeak, kicking my feet in annoyance. “I need a free hand in case someone intercepts us.”
Fine.
He pulls open a pantry door, and steps inside. A long dark hallway lies before us, and I have to wonder how the fuck he knew this was here.
Despite his injury, Rip’s footsteps are light, quick, as he moves through the darkness. It sounds like he’s counting each step, which makes no sense to me at all.
Carefully, he slides me off his shoulder. I can’t see him, but his lips brush across the apple of my cheek, trailing to graze my ear as he whispers, “Stay behind me. Have that gun ready.”
I nod, murmuring a “mhmm,” since he can’t see me.
“Don’t do something stupid,” he growls.
Who me? Never. I let loose a quiet sound of objection, and he silently exhales a huff against my neck. “Just…don’t run off. Once we’re out of here and I have cell service, my team will descend upon this fucking place and search every inch for her. I promise. Just stay by my side.”
Okay, you big softy. I’ll obey.
I thread my fingers through his. He sucks in a sharp breath at the contact. “Let’s go,” he chokes.
He doesn’t release my hand as he leads us from the dark. Pulling back a curtain I didn’t know was there, he blinds us with the light of the high afternoon sun.
His spine shoots straight, and he shoves me behind him.
“Ripley.”
“Reid.”
I risk a peek out from behind Rip’s massive frame. Standing before us with a flank of armed gunmen, is who I assume to be the butler, though he looks more like an assassin with all the guns strapped to him.
“Are we about to have a problem?”
“Not at all, Mr. Morgan. Don’t you recognize your own men?”
One by one the people at Reid’s back remove their protective helmets and face masks.
Ripley almost drops to his knees in relief, and that unwinds the tension in my chest. “You about gave me a heart attack, asshole.”
“My apologies. Is everyone taken care of?”
“Yes.”
“Very good,” Reid replies, though his eyes betray him, heavy with sadness.
“You’re free, Reid, though you’ll always have a place with my team, if you want it. And my lifelong gratitude.”
“Thank you, sir, but I think I’ve had enough of this life.”
“I understand. Will you wait just a minute? I’d like to speak with you.”
Reid nods, stepping aside as Rip addresses his team. “Move out, any survivors you find are to be detained until they can be questioned. Workers and prisoners.”
I tug on his shirt, grabbing his attention.
“Will you be patient, flower?” he murmurs over his shoulder and I huff dramatically.
Rip pulls his phone from his pocket, swiping to a picture of my sister which I can’t even fathom how he has. He holds up his phone. “This is who you’re looking for. Her name is Chelsea. If found, she is to be brought to me immediately.”
I tap him in the arm again, and he looks over his shoulder to me. I grab his arm, dragging my finger across his skin. B-R-O-W-N.
“Brown?”
I nod, grabbing a curl of my hair and shaking it.
“Her hair’s brown now?”
I nod again.
He turns back to the team, relaying the information as I slap his arm, grabbing his attention. Once again, I scrawl letters on his skin. L-I-L-A-C.
“Lilac? What’s that mean?”
“Miss Chelsea was held in the lilac room,” Reid’s voice pipes up, closer than he was standing mere moments ago.
“Was?”
“She hasn’t been seen in quite some time.”
My fingers curl into Ripley’s skin, nails biting into flesh.
“Where did she go?”
“I don’t know.”
I release Rip’s arm. Pointing to myself, I make a walking gesture with my fingers, driving my finger into my chest over and over as I walk my fingers across my palm. Take me there, I beg, eyes stinging from the emotional onslaught.
“Flower…”
I slam my palms into his pecs, shoving him, punching him. His arms band around me, crushing my body to his. “Fine. Though I’m going on the record saying this is a bad idea.”
A broken sob gets lodged in my throat as my adoration for him grows.
“Reid, will you show us to Chelsea’s room?”
“Of course.”
“The rest of you, move out. Don’t touch the security system until Bucky gives us the all clear.”
Ripley’s fingers fly across the screen of his phone, presumably notifying the rest of his team.
Looking to Reid, he says, “Lead the way.”
The hallway is lit with soft purple light, though not a sound is to be heard. The white marble floor is cold beneath my feet as we pass door after door.
Lavender.
Orchid.
Amethyst.
Violet.
Lilac.
Reid stops before the door, keying a code into the pad next to it.
My door didn’t have a code. I look to the man, he offers an explanation without a prompt. “High-risk clientele and their…lovers are monitored almost twenty-four hours a day. Prevents the possibility of a coup being orchestrated.”
Rip bumps his shoulder into me. “Hear that? We were high risk.”
I force a mangled smile. I know he’s trying to lighten my somber fucking mood, but I can’t help feeling anything but morose at the moment.
“The door won’t lock on its own, you may leave when you’re ready.”
“Thank you, Reid,” Rip replies, reaching for the knob.
“Umm…”
“Yes, Reid?”
“Should I go look for some scissors?”
“That won’t be enough. We need some wire cutters or small metal shears. The fucker used wire.”
“I can get you some. Will you stay here until I return?”
Ripley looks to me, and I return a shrug.
“If we aren’t in here, we’ll be in the lobby.”
“I’ll be quick,” Reid says before disappearing back down the hall.
“Are you ready?”
I nod, placing my hand over his and turning the knob.
Her signature scent is a slap in the face as soon as the door swings open. Vanilla and citrus, with the lingering salty brine of the ocean…
Karson.
My eyes sweep over the barren room. It’s been stripped—no sheets, no pillows, no mattress.
A chunk of the carpet has been cut out and removed, along with the underlay.
I move toward the barren spot. The white marble floor beneath it sparkling and spotless.
Buried under the familiar smell of my sister, lingers the tag of bleach, stinging my nose.
“I’ll find her, baby.”
Ripley’s voice at my back infiltrates my memories.
The ones where Maximus threatened to feed my sister to the sharks that eagerly wait at the base of the cliff.
Maybe it wasn’t a threat. Maybe he already did it.
And he was dangling her wellbeing as a way to force my compliance, all the while knowing she was long gone.
Digested.
“I hope these will suffice,” Reid says, breaking the silence. He hands the metal cutters to Ripley.
I spell Karson’s name out upon his skin and he asks where my handler is.
“He fled when the alarm went off. I’m sure he will return. He wouldn’t be aware of Max’s passing, and owes him a life debt.”
“Thank you, Reid. You’re free to go.”
He nods sadly. “I’ll be staying at the Seaside Motel for the time being, if you need me.”
“I’ll try not to,” Rip says through a humourless laugh.
Reid leaves us, and a charged silence settles over the room.
There’s a mirror hanging over a makeup table. Rip gestures to it. “Do you want to remove them?”
I shake my head. I don’t want to see myself in that state again.
“You trust me to do this?” He’s visibly shocked as I nod. He won’t deliberately hurt me, not when it comes to this. His lips land against my forehead in a soft, long kiss.
When he looks back to me, tilting my chin up gently, he stares intently at my wounded mouth. “I’m going to cut down the middle, then I’ll have to pull each piece out individually.”
“Okay,” I murmur.