My head ached as I tried to construct this family tree, one that as of an hour ago didn’t exist.
“Victoria, Carlisle’s family warned me to kill you before you were born. After Carlisle left me, Niccolo, his brother, came to see me. He told me to have an abortion. He even made me an appointment. Johnathon and I left town the day of that appointment.
“It was true that Randall owed the organization money. It wasn’t Carlisle’s family. It was another family, one who wanted to prove to the world that Carlisle’s family lied: to prove that he had a daughter before he had a son. Before you married Stewart, this other family ensured that Randall’s debt was insurmountable. They capitalized on his addiction and continued to offer him opportunities that never paid off. It wasn’t until they asked for you that we knew.”
“What? They asked specifically for me?”
She nodded her head. “I know I’ve never been a good mother, but I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t allow them to take you. When I was very young, I saw what happened to women, women who weren’t part of the family. If they had you, Carlisle’s daughter, they could prove that his family lied about you and they could use you.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I don’t even want to think about what they could have done to you.”
My mind was a blur. Could any of this be true?
“How did Stewart become involved?”
Marilyn wiped her eyes and sniffed, before she continued, “Randall had met Stewart through his medical practice. There were rumors that the families that I’ve mentioned conducted some of their business through Harrington Spas and Suites.” She reached for my hand again. This time the cold didn’t even register. “I’m not insinuating that your husband was involved in illegal activities. What I’m saying is that he had power, power over some of the business that went on behind the scenes. Stewart Harrington was the only person we knew who could possibly have the kind of money that we needed to save you from those people.”
“How much Mother? How much did Stewart pay for me?”
“Victoria, you weren’t sold. You were saved.”
I sat straighter. “How much?”
“Over six million.”
My jaws ached, temples throbbed, and mouth dried. I reached for the water bottle and tried to drink, but, suddenly, the water tasted sour and my stomach threatened to revolt. “I can’t… I don’t even know what to say.”
“My dear, this is too much. The thing is, this isn’t all. There’s more. Please let me come to your apartment. We’re almost to my house. I need you to know everything.”
I shook my head. “Not today. I don’t think I can handle any more.”
She looked around at the street. Ignoring my plea for silence, she spoke fast. “When your husband paid Randall’s debt, the organization was upset. They thought they had this perfect plan Stewart foiled it. Randall said there were some rumblings of discontent, but then after you’d been married for a year or so, things seemed to settle down. During all of this, I did my best to distance myself from you. I hoped that they’d still believe you were truly a Conway.
“I can’t prove it, but I suspect that Randall’s accident wasn’t due to unpaid gambling debts. It was a warning to me: a reminder that I know too much. He did owe money, but comparatively it wasn’t that much.”
“I know Randall asked Stewart to cover it.”
Marilyn looked down. “I don’t blame you for saying no. I did at one time, but now I don’t. I’m not sure how long it would have been before they came back for more.” She looked down. “Randall wasn’t a bad man. He wasn’t.”
I couldn’t think about Randall being a good man. If he’d never gotten involved with the gambling, this never would have come about. Then again, would those people have found another way to me? Me who? I didn’t exist. I’d died. My mind spun. “So you’re telling me that my father, Carlisle, not Johnathon Conway, was at my husband’s funeral, and he’s part of some crime family? This sounds like a TV movie, not real life.”
“Yes, Victoria, that’s what I’m saying. Those TV movies come from somewhere. It’s real. As long as Stewart was alive he had power. Now I’m scared.”
Goose bumps rose on my arms. “Why?”
The car came to a stop. We were in my mother’s driveway. “It wasn’t until your actual eighteenth birthday, the one you didn’t know you had, that I heard from Carlisle’s family. It was the first time in over eighteen years. I didn’t hear from your father. I heard from his brother, Niccolo, the same one who wanted me to have an abortion. He wanted proof that you were truly Victoria Conway, the daughter of Johnathon Conway. I gave it to him. I gave him a copy of your second birth certificate. I never heard from them again, but then when Randall was asked specifically for you, we knew that at the very least, the others suspected.” She spoke fast. “Stewart was a good man. He knew what he was getting into when he married you. If he hadn’t…” Travis opened the door.
“Victoria, please don’t share this.” She tilted her head toward Travis. “Does he protect you?”
I looked toward the mountain of a man outside the car, the one who only days ago intimidated me. Though I could only see his body as he stood holding the door, I imagined his dark eyes and narrowing suspicious gaze. Looking back to my mother, I nodded.
She covered my hand and spoke soft and fast. “Good. You don’t understand what you’re up against. Darling, there’s more. I know you hate me, but there is so much more. I’m not denying that I’ve unjustly blamed you for things that truly were out of your control. However, I’ve also done what I’ve done to protect you. Keeping you distanced from me was for your own good. You weren’t supposed to be born.”
“Mrs. Sound,” Travis’ voice came from the open door.
I didn’t speak, unsure what to say as Marilyn moved from the car. A few minutes later, Val was beside me and we were once again on the road.
“Vik?” Her voice overflowed with love and support. “Are you all right? You look pale. What did Mom say?”
What had she said? I couldn’t process. Carlisle and Johnathon… She’d married both of them. I wasn’t supposed to be born? I hadn’t been—but I had. What was Carlisle’s last name? It wasn’t Conway, not the same as Val’s. Tears spilled over my painted lids. Before I could speak, Val’s arms came around me and I collapsed on her shoulder.
Of all the things Marilyn said, the one that came to the forefront was that my father wasn’t the same as Val’s. Had I just lost my sister? She wasn’t truly my sister as I’d always thought. We were, but we weren’t. My shoulders shuddered.
“It’s going to be all right,” Val soothed. “You’ll be all right. I know it’s hard. Maybe you’ll consider that counseling. You’re too young to be a widow. You don’t have to do this on your own.” Her hand ran circles over my back as she continued, “I’ll postpone my trip to Uganda. I won’t leave you.”
My head moved back and forth. “No, Val, don’t.” I spoke between sobs. “I don’t want you to do that.” When her caring gray eyes met mine, I asked, “Can you please give me some of that medicine? I want to sleep. I don’t want to think anymore.”
THE NOTES OF Fatal Lullaby faded as Death Dance began. I tried to open my eyes, but all I saw was black. Were my eyes not opening or was it the blindfold?
No! I wanted to scream. This couldn’t be happening. I was never going back again. Never! Why was I here?
The last thing I remembered was taking Val’s medicine and going to sleep. I was in my bed, in my suite. How did this happen?
The cold, smooth bars of the headboard felt familiar under my grasp. As my fingers flexed, the indignation within me grew. I wasn’t doing this. I wouldn’t. Just as I was about to release the bars, Stewart’s voice spoke to me, “I’m here, darling. Show us that pretty, wet pussy.”
No! My legs snapped together.
“Come on, Tori, don’t make our friend mad.”
This wasn’t real. Stewart was dead! I saw him die! My mind searched desperately for answers
as the bed shifted. I tried to let go of the headboard, but I couldn’t. My hands weren’t obeying my mind.
Cold, rough hands reached for my ankles. Uncharacteristically, I kicked, feeling my foot strike something hard. The bed shifted again, the harsh hands brutally seized my ankles and pulled my body farther down the bed. Though I tried to fight, one by one my ankles were secured and tightly bound as my legs were pulled apart to a painful width.
“No!” I found my voice. “No! Stop!” I screamed louder, hoping that my pleas rang throughout the warehouse and beyond. I knew the location was remote and isolated for a reason. Nevertheless, even though I couldn’t hear myself with the headphones, I continued to scream. I must have spoken, because as my demands grew louder, a large hand came down and covered my mouth. I tried with all my might to bite, but the person moved his hand, just out of the way.
“Stop, baby,” Stewart’s calm voice came through the headphones. “You know the rules. No talking.”
I’m not doing this! You’re dead! You can’t make me!
I screamed a muffled scream into the hand, as pain emanated from my hair and the blindfold and headphones were ripped from my head. The onslaught of light momentarily blinded me, making it difficult to focus on the man before me. He was right on top of me, his hand over my mouth and his rancid breath filling my senses.
Senator Robert Keene’s voice was low and menacing. “Do you want to fight? Good. I like that.” He grabbed a fistful of my hair and snapped my head back. “Keep it up. I always thought you were too compliant.”
I glared. Motherfucker, this isn’t happening.
“Stewart made promises. If you think I’ll continue to support his endeavors without this little incentive, you’re as stupid as you are hot.”
My heartbeat quickened as panic overtook me. No. I couldn’t do this. I wouldn’t. I’d never been this frightened before. Stewart couldn’t help me. My mind searched for possibilities.
Robert’s face came closer. With his hand still over my mouth he leaned in and licked my cheek. My stomach threatened revolt as his wet tongue lapped the other cheek and he spoke, “There we go. Will you be a good girl or do we need to punish you?” Gripping my hair tighter he bathed my face in his awful breath and asked, “What’s it going to be, are you going to be a good girl?”
Fucker! I nodded—as much as I could with his hand entwined in my hair. Yeah, I’ll fucking be a good girl.
He petted my head, loosened his grip, and slowly removed his hand from my mouth. As he started to move, I fought against the restraints and screamed with everything in me. It was my only hope, my only chance. “Travis! Travis! Help me!”
Hands came to my shoulders and I braced myself for Robert’s punishment.
“Vik, Vik. Wake up.”
“No way, motherfucker! Travis! Help me. Travis!” My voice was louder than it had been before. My skin dripped with perspiration as my trembling body fought the restraints. Instantly, my hands and feet flung free. The restraints were gone. I pushed past the hands, and rushed from the bed. As I did, the room came into focus. The warehouse was gone. I was in my suite and I wasn’t alone. Val was in the middle of my bed, the covers disheveled and her eyes as big as saucers. Her gray questioning gaze stared through me as if I were possessed.
My mind couldn’t register what had just happened. My shaking body was no longer naked; instead I was covered in a sweat-dampened nightgown. Robert Keene wasn’t with me. I was in my apartment, my suite. Val moved cautiously toward me, as if she were afraid of what I might do. All energy and strength left my limbs as I closed my eyes and fell to my knees.
I was fucking losing it.
Just as Val reached me, my suite door opened. I looked up to see Travis’ large frame fill the doorway. In the dim light, I felt his dark eyes assessing the scene.
Val turned toward him. “She’s all right. I’m sorry I bothered you. I think she was having a nightmare. The only name I recognized was yours. She was calling to you.”
I shook my head. “No, I wasn’t. I’m fine.”
“Vik, you’re not fine,” Val said. “You were in the middle of some nightmare or night terror. I couldn’t get you to wake up. You almost decked me. What the hell were you dreaming about?”
I stared toward Travis. He’d yet to speak. Trying for a small bit of decorum, I stood and reached for my robe. Securing it around me, I said, “Thank you for coming, Travis. I’m fine. I’d appreciate it if you’d leave my room.”
His back stiffened. Why was I concerned about him seeing me in my nightgown? He’d obviously seen me with a lot less. Instead of listening, he took a step closer. His customary dark slacks were replaced by gym shorts that exposed his thick, muscular legs, and his feet were bare. “Mrs. Harrington, if you figure out what your nightmare was about, or if I can be of any assistance, I don’t mind your call.” He turned toward Val. “Or yours, doctor. I’m here.”
I exhaled. “I don’t think that will be necessary. I probably shouldn’t have taken that medicine.” I feigned a smile toward my sister. “It was like some horror story, a monster or something.” My eyes went toward Travis. “I’m not sure. I couldn’t see much.”
His eyes closed knowingly. “Mrs. Harrington, are you sure you’re fine?”
I nodded, standing as tall as possible in my bare feet. “I am.”
“Just know, ma’am, I’m downstairs. No monsters will restrict your vision as long as I’m here.” With that he turned, and said, “Good night.”
Val and I watched as he walked out into the hallway and closed the door. Once he was gone, Val wrinkled her nose and said, “Well, that was kind of weird.” Turning toward me, she continued, “I’m sorry that I called him, Vik. I used your phone. You were screaming and you kept calling for him. I wasn’t sure what to do.”
“Kept?”
She reached for my hand and led me toward the bed. “Yeah, it went on for over ten minutes. Psychiatry isn’t my thing, but something is going on. Please let me get you connected to someone who can help you.”
Could anyone help me? I thought this would all be over when Stewart died. I looked at the clock. “Val, I’m sorry for waking you so early.” I eyed my bed. “Did you fall asleep in here? We do have other rooms.”
She grinned. “I know you do. I didn’t want to leave you. You wouldn’t have left me. That’s what sisters do.”
I pressed my lips together. Sisters. The term made my chest hurt. We were sisters. We were. Just like Marcus and Lyle were my brothers. Did it matter that our fathers weren’t the same?
“Okay, then. Climb back in.” I patted the mattress of my large king-sized bed. “It’s not even three. Why don’t we try to get some more sleep?”
“If you promise not to try to kick me again,” she said with a gleam in her gray eyes.
“Oh, no. Did I kick you?”
“Don’t worry about it. That must have been some monster. You know some people have problems with night terrors after taking sleep medicine. I’m sorry, sis. I was trying to help.”
I reached out and touched her arm. My trembling was nearly gone. “It was only a dream.” Was I reassuring her or myself?
She turned off the light near the bed and the room fell silent. After a few minutes, Val asked, “Vik?”
“Yes?”
“Who’s horizontal-friend?”
I turned toward her voice. The darkened scene reminded me of a simpler time, the years we’d spent sharing a room. “Why?”
“I get it if you don’t want to tell me. I was just wondering why you’d call out for Travis in your dream and not him, or even Stewart.”
I shrugged. “I remember in my dream telling myself that Stewart was dead. Even in my dream, I knew he couldn’t help me.”
“But you called out for Travis, the guy you used to say gave you the creeps?” Her voice grew higher. “Is he horizontal-friend?”
“No! God no.”
Val’s laugh filled the room. “Okay, I was just wondering. Is he married?”
I tried to keep up. “Travis, no, he isn’t married.”
“No,” Val corrected, “Horizontal-friend?”
I shook my head in the dark, thinking about Brody. “No, he’s not.”
“Good.”
“Why good?” I asked.
“Because I don’t want you having another one of these nightmares and being all alone.”
“Maybe this is something I need to explore with your counselor. Good night, Val.”
“Night, sis.”
Would Brody understand? How could I explain to him what I was imagining? He’d read the contract, but I’d never given him the particulars. He knew there were other men. He knew it was Stewart’s idea of fun, but he didn’t know any more. What would he think of me if he knew? But then I wondered if I really cared. He was the one spouting things about being the only man in my life. Right now, I didn’t care about having a man in my life. I mean, the sex was hot—it was. However, after all the bombshells I’d had dropped in the past few days I didn’t want a man. I wanted a life: a normal life. A wishful smile came to my face.
Could I ever have a normal life? Just Brody and I, away from Miami, away from the warehouse and Stewart’s deals. Away from Marilyn and Carlisle? I’d never allowed myself to entertain such an idea, but now I did. Could that be my new goal?
The question that arose was what would I be willing to do to achieve it?
As sleep threatened, I knew my answer: anything.
MY NIGHTMARE FROM the night before gave me new resolve. I wasn’t going back to the warehouse. There was no way in hell I could do it. Somehow knowing that if I returned it would be without Stewart made the whole situation seem somehow viler.
Early that next morning, I texted Brody:
“DO YOU KNOW OF ANYONE NAMED CARLISLE?”
The next thing I did was call Craven and Knowles. With each ring, I contemplated my options. Until I knew exactly what I was up against, I couldn’t truly form my plan. The answering of my call refocused my attention.