Chapter 44 – Aster
ASTER
Unlike the previous times I was here, I don’t give a flying fuck if I’m discovered. I came for one reason, and one reason only: find Lily. Or find out what happened to her and make that person—or persons—pay.
The ornate front door of the Westerford estate flies open as my motorcycle rolls to a stop before the steps.
Vetrel’s gun is in my waistband, sixteen bullets in the magazine, and I’m just itching to break the single rule I usually have during a fight. No gunfire. Because I couldn’t care less about honor or throwing the middle finger to my dad tonight. This is more important. She’s more important.
A man comes out the door as I unmount my bike. “Stop right there!”
“I need to speak with Jude.”
“Not tonight you don’t.” His tone is firm, arms crossed. “It’s two in the morning.”
“I wouldn’t give a shit if it’s Christmas. Tell him he’s got a visitor, or I’ll slam your head into the pavement and leave my message in blood.” I smile, and his jaw ticks, unsure whether to listen to me or puff his feathers like a rooster. A moment later, he disappears back inside. Smart man.
Five minutes pass until the door opens again, and Jude steps out wearing one of those godforsaken rich boy bathrobes. It’s maroon with a large W embroidered on the pocket. What a douche.
“To what do I owe this displeasure?” he grumbles.
“What work do you have with Jackson Carter?” I ask to start, because beginning a conversation with “hey, I think you’re a serial killer” isn’t usually the best. And I’m still not actually sure who it is. Is it Jackson? Is it Jude? Neither of them? Both of them?
His brows furrow, recognition fluttering over his eyes for a moment. In a blink, the expression is replaced by one of boredom. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”
“So you just write checks for $10,000 to every detective in Cleosville?”
“Ah, yes.” He pulls a cigar out of his pocket and cuts off the end. “I think we made a donation to their safety program.” He lights it, taking a quick inhale.
“I’d believe you if the check wasn’t written out to him personally.”
Blowing out the smoke, he holds my eye contact. “What are you really doing here?”
“Looking for a missing person.”
“You’re going to have to be more specific.”
“Lily hasn’t been seen since yesterday,” I grit out, gauging his reaction.
“Oh,” he says, seemingly unaffected. “That’s a shame. She was such a pretty little thing.”
Why is he already talking about her in the past tense? Blood boils in my veins. She’s so much more than that. I take a step forward, and before I can reconsider, I’ve got the pistol out of my waistband, pointed between his eyes. “Tell me a reason I shouldn’t blow your head off right now.”
He brings the cigar to his lips once more, taking a heavy drag. Then blows the smoke out, the rich scent surrounding us. “Killing me would only solidify that you will never, ever find her body.”
My jaw ticks, but I can’t fight a small smile. He’s taken the bait and given me some very valuable intel. He was involved, and he knows who else was as well.
“I don’t know.” I dig the metal deeper. “I’m feeling risky tonight. Maybe I’ll just take my chances.”
“Now, now,” he patronizes, feigning bravery. Hope he has a diaper under that robe for when I scare the piss out of him. “Don’t go doing things you can’t undo.”
“Where. Is. She?”
“Get that pistol out of my face, and maybe I’ll tell you.”
I take a calming breath. In—two, three, four. Out—two, three, four.
When I holster the gun, his shoulders relax despite his attempt to appear totally unbothered.
“There.” He turns towards the house. “Now we can have a civilized conversation.”
“Where are you going?”
He waves a hand, gesturing to follow him, and I oblige.
Immediate regret fills me when I walk through the door to six guns pointed my way. “So much for a civilized conversation.”
“Forgive me.” He waves them off as he walks past, and I trail after him. The guards follow behind like a damn militia, not calming my nerves. But they haven’t taken my weapons from me at least.
A minute later, we’re in his study. I force away the memories of Lily and me in this space to reduce distraction. This is also the same room where Karolyn Heinzel died. Is this going to be a full circle moment? Does he want to kill me here next?
My eyes fall to the floor. The green Persian carpet has been replaced with a red one.
A fire rumbles in the corner, and a woman comes in carrying a tray with a teapot and cups.
She sets it on a table, then pours boiling water over the teabags before retreating through the door where Lily and I witnessed the murder.
Lily.
I can hardly think of her name without a gnawing ache in my chest. That overwhelming, all-consuming, drag-me-to-the-depths ache. The last time I felt it, years passed before I resurfaced for air. This time, I know I won’t survive it.
Jude passes me the tea and heads to a drink cart. He pours himself a tall glass of amber liquid from a decanter. “I’d ask why you have Frederick Vetrel’s gun, but I’ve seen the footage.”
My blood runs cold as I set the mug on a table, unwilling to drink a drop. “What footage?”
He huffs a laugh. “Did you really think you could just go to his place of business and murder him without a trace?”
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”
He rolls his eyes. “Do you want to get information or not? Lying to me, that’s not going to do shit.”
This is what happens when I kill out of vengeance. I’m reckless. Fuck. “He deserved what happened to him.”
“You know,” Jude says between sips, “while I don’t doubt that, it does leave us in a bit of a pickle.”
“Us?”
“My business associate and me. Without Vetrel, we have a hole in our command.”
“I struggle to see what this has to do with Lily, or me.”
He smiles. “Well, you see, you want information about your little girlfriend. And we need someone with a unique set of skills willing to do whatever it takes. Or whatever he’s told, I should say.”
A unique set of skills. Alarm bells ring in my head.
“You think I’m going to be your little puppet for a bit of information about where to find her body?
” His shit-eating grin is so wide, I consider blowing his face off and being done with this conversation.
And this is why I can’t have a gun. Anger thrums through me.
“If I went down to your basement, would I find a 5’8 female skeleton on the table? ”
He laughs. “A body doesn’t land in the studio for less than two million, and I can’t imagine someone wasting their money hiring us for a hit on her. She’s not worth it.”
Fury courses through me that this buffoon insinuates my girlfriend isn’t worth two million dollars for a hit, and I realize that’s insane, because the possibility of her being on a hit list also enrages me. “Hire you?”
“You didn’t think Isla just makes those pieces for fun?”
“I mean… yeah, I kind of did.”
“Well, they’re not. And business is booming, which is why we could use someone with your skills.”
“What would I even be doing for you?”
“The same as you’re doing now. Get in, kill who we ask, and get out. And you’ll get a check here and there for your troubles.” Is that why Jackson had a check? Is he one of their killers?
“You want me to be a contract killer?”
He shrugs. “Something like that.”
“You’re insane.”
“Would it sweeten the deal if I told you Lily was alive?”
The room spins on its axis, oxygen coming in short supply. He says the words as if they’re nothing. As if that truth wouldn’t change the rest of my entire goddamn existence. “Prove it.”
He laughs, and I want to pistol whip the sight off his face. “I don’t have to prove shit. I don’t really care if you believe me or not.”
My hands shake, and my reasons for keeping this prick alive are dwindling by the millisecond. Is he telling the truth? God, I hope so. “What the hell do you want from me?”
“For you to agree to work for me.” When hell freezes over.
I weigh my options. She’s hopefully alive. I know Jackson had something to do with it. Did he kill her? Fake her death?
I rub a hand over my stubble, trying to buy time while I figure out this unsolvable puzzle. “What’s in it for me?”
“We don’t put a bullet through her pretty head.”
“So that’s why you did all this?” Blind rage skirts across my skin. “You kidnapped her to get to me?” Guilt washes through me. I’ve put someone I love in danger once again.
“No.” He waves me off. “But I do like to find an opportunity where one might least expect it, and I’d call this a happy coincidence.”
“You said you have a partner. Before I agree to anything, I’d like to meet him.”
Jude chuckles, the sound making my skin crawl. Why does he think this is all so funny? If he realized how utterly close I am to snapping his neck, would he still find this conversation so humorous? “You don’t just meet the boss.”
“I thought he was your partner.”
Jude’s jaw ticks. “You ask a lot of questions for someone who needs a favor.”
“Well, forgive me if I’m not eager to get into business with some macabre wanker,” I say, glancing at one of the skeleton pieces beside his desk.
“I think you’ve underestimated your choice in all this. Either you work for us,” he says, a smug smile on his face, “or we’ll kill Lily and have our detective take that little video of you in as evidence.”
Anger thrums through my veins, the heat of the gun all but branding my back. “So you plan to blackmail me for the foreseeable future?”
He shrugs. “Given your lack of leverage, I’d say it’s a fair offer.”
I’ve been in bed with snakes before. And I’d rather die than endure that again. I’d rather be drowned in the depths of the ocean than be forced under someone’s manipulative thumb.
Which is why I break my one rule, pull out the gun, and fire a single bullet between Judious Westerford’s eyes.