“Don’t know,” Wire looked up. “But hacking into their shit got me what I was looking for. Connection to Mia’s old life.” He grinned slightly, then when he met Bull’s eyes the grin left his face left quickly. “This is heavy shit, brother,” he warned.
Bull felt the room tense. “Spit it the fuck out,” he growled.
“Mia Spencer is actually Abigail Locke,” he started. “From Atlanta, Georgia. Born to two worthless, alcoholic, drug addicts. Lived in a trailer park until the age of fifteen, till she met Sid Gregory.” He spoke carefully.
Bull didn’t recognize the name but he didn’t miss how Steg’s mouth turned tight and his eyes narrowed.
“Got pregnant, married him soon after,” Wire went on quickly. “Moved into the family home. Fucker was only eighteen—somehow moved quickly up the ranks in a lucrative drug dealing syndicate.” There were curses around the table at this little gem. “Family ties, you see,” Wire added.
Bull clenched his fists but otherwise stayed silent.
“Got a reputation quickly. Had certain talents,” Wire spat the word. “’Specially good at extracting money out of people that owed his bosses. Can’t say how much Mia—or Abigail—knew. No fuckin’ intel on her for that period of time.” He paused. “Until the hospital record. She was admitted, nine months pregnant, beaten within an inch of her life.” He glanced at Bull again, his usually unflappable demeanor visibly shaken. “Not going to repeat the laundry list of injuries, bro. Found evidence of older shit too, to say this wasn’t the first time. Will say it was a fuckin’ miracle the kid survived. Emergency delivery. Three days after, Abigail Gregory and her newborn baby dropped off the face of the earth,” he finished, his voice hard.
There was silence after Wire stopped talking. The entire room pulsated with fury; Lucky had banged his fist down on the table somewhere in the middle. It was nothing compared to the utter rage pulsating through every part of Bull. Mia, his gentle, goofy fuckin’ beautiful Mia. Pregnant. Almost dying. Lexie, almost fuckin’ dying. Now the sick fuck had her again.
Bull stared at Wire a moment then turned, hurling his glass so it shattered against the wall. “Fuck!” he roared.
The men all watched him, as if waiting for him to go further, like he had those years ago. So much so they had to lock him down. He wasn’t fuckin’ doing it this time. He made a promise to his girl. He was finding his woman. Then he was killing the fuck that had her. Slowly.
“I’m good,” he grunted.
Cade gave him a long look then turned his attention to Wire. “You find the piece of shit?”
“There’s more.”
Cade stiffened and then cursed.
“The past sixteen years Gregory’s been through two more wives.” Wire turned the screen to face the table, Bull’s highly strung body turned even tighter. Wire pulled up two pictures side by side and there were muttered profanities around the table. Lucky’s normally easy face was granite; a murderous expression replaced what was usually an easy smile. Asher had stuck his knife into the wood of the table, as if he was planning on stabbing someone right there.
That was because these two women looked exactly like Mia. Could’ve been sisters. Both had golden blonde hair, curly. Heart-shaped faces. Delicate features. Didn’t have the sunshine behind the eyes Mia had.
“Both have disappeared. Filed for dissolution of marriages, both of them. Obviously he’s got a judge in his pocket that pushed this shit through,” he muttered.
“Okay, so this sick fuck is beyond dead. He’s gonna die bloody,” Gage declared icily. “Tell us where to find him so we can tear the fucker limb for fuckin’ limb,” There was a strange glint on his face, almost excitement at the prospect of it.
“You got a lock? How many men he has?” Steg asked, thinking pragmatically.
Wire grinned. “Not e-fucking-nough to stop us,” he said, the first piece of good news the hacker had uttered since he walked in. “Hasn’t even left the state.” His eyes darted to Bull. “Think he still plans on getting the kid.”
Over his dead fucking body.
“Good for us, thinking the fucker’s bat shit nutso. It’ll be cake to get there, to end him,” Wire told the group.
The tension dissipated slightly. But Bull was still coiled tight as anything. Didn’t matter how easy it was to get him. He’d still had Mia over twenty-four hours. A fuckin’ day. A lot could happen in a day. He knew only too well.
A beeping on Wire’s tablet drew his attention. “Fuck,” Wire muttered. “We’ve got company.” He showed the screen once more; this time it was the security footage of the gate. Crawford filled the screen.
“Fuck!” Cade half roared. “When will that piece of shit get transferred to fuckin’ traffic patrol and get out of our shit?”
The positive atmosphere that had swirled within the room not seconds ago dissipated with the appearance of that fucker. They weren’t going anywhere without a goddamned tail.
I showered, mostly because I had to wash off the filth that came with Sid’s touch. Also, because I had to have some self-preservation. There was no reason to needlessly provoke him. However much I despised him, I had to stay on his good side, at least until Zane came. And he would come. I didn’t have illusions over the fact I had any chance of getting out of here alone. As much as I would have liked to be some badass female, underneath all my girly clothes and makeup obsession, I wasn’t. I didn’t even do anything productive like become a black belt in karate after I escaped Sid. I was too busy dealing with a newborn and figuring out how to feed her. How to survive. So I knew I had two options. Zane would save me or Sid would kill me. It might take days, months, years…I didn’t know how long, but the coldness in his eyes, the evil, wasn’t fleeting as it had been years before. It was permanent. Which meant bad things for me. So I was hoping for the first option. I couldn’t imagine never seeing my daughter again. Never seeing Zane again. I would fight with every inch of me until my last breath, but I was realistic of my chances without my dark protector.
I was reluctantly dressed in the clothes from the closet. My own were filthy and stained with blood. I defiantly chose an all-white outfit. If, or more likely when Sid decided to lay a hand on me, he would see his expensive shit soiled with the results of his temper. As much as he loved inflicting pain, he hated mess. Something I had learned the hard way.
The door opened and the same goon who had given me the towel stepped into the room. “Ready, miss?” he asked as if he was a butler escorting me to dinner with the queen, not breakfast with a psychopath. He didn’t even flinch at my battered face, which I had glimpsed in the mirror. Getting thrown around in the trunk of a car didn’t do much for the complexion. Neither did getting clocked with the butt of a gun, the knot in the back of my head communicating this to me.
I jutted out my chin and followed the goon.
“So, you don’t mind working for a woman beating-monster?” I asked his back. “Bet your mother’s proud of you,” I shot at him. Not the best idea, provoking the steroid freak, but I was transforming from terrified to pissed. It was the only way to survive. And right now, I was pissed that my fucking husband thought he could come in and fuck up my life. Lexie’s life.
The goon stayed silent. He was trained well. We soon entered a dining room. The house was smaller than I originally thought, but still opulent. The room was empty, I expected Sid to be sitting there eating breakfast, but Goon One continued out to a patio. I restrained my surprise at the familiar landscape. We were still in California. I breathed a sigh of relief.
Sid sat at a wicker outdoor table. He was drinking coffee. His gaze flickered over me and down my body. His expression was carefully blank. I couldn’t say he didn’t look good. He did. He’d grown up from the attractive teenager with the boyish face. That face had hardened at the sides, becoming more manly. He was clean shaven with a tan that looked suspiciously fake. His black hair was slicked back in that sophisticated way businessmen seemed to prefer. Me? I learned I liked my men roug
her. A lot rougher. He was wearing a white button down, the collar open. The body underneath it was lean, but still muscly. He didn’t look intimating right then. His muscles didn’t look like they could inflict pain, break bones. I knew only too well they could.
“Sit, Button,” he commanded softly.
I paused before complying. I had originally chosen to sit at the seat farthest away from the reptile in the expensive shirt, but Goon One directed me beside him. I scowled up at the blank face. As soon as I sat down, Sid clutched my hand, kissing it. My skin crawled at the touch of his vile lips on any part of me. I quickly snatched it away.
“Don’t you touch me,” I hissed.
Sid was unfazed. “I see it might take a while to get used to me,” he said blandly. “Especially,” he looked out at the landscape, “since you’ve been lowering yourself into the gutter by sleeping with bikers.” His voice was still bland but his jaw was hard.
I stiffened. “The only time I lowered myself into the gutter was when I let you lay your filthy hands on me,” I spat with hatred.
My mind didn’t let me regret it. How could I? I got Lexie. I’d go through it all again, a hundred more times for her.
Sid’s eyes turned to me. “My, with beauty has come insolence,” he commented. He tilted his head slightly. “I can’t say it doesn’t appeal.” He regarded me with his empty eyes. “It just means it’ll be interesting getting you back in line.”
My skin crawled.
He sighed and leaned back in his chair, his head moving to glance at the hills in the distance. “I’m sure you’ve noticed we aren’t home yet. I’m obviously waiting for Hillary,” he said as if she was off on Spring Break, not running from her sicko father whom she’d thankfully never met. “I thought she might want to stay somewhere familiar, that you both would. So I bought this place.” He held his hands out. “More modest than I’m used to, and obviously a touch more opulent than what you’ve been able to provide, but it’ll serve as a good transition home,” he said, moving his eyes back to me.
I glared at him with hatred, not speaking.
“Maybe it was a good thing I haven’t been reunited with my daughter just yet,” he continued. “Gives me time to make sure I have her mother setting a good example,” he mused.
My blood curdled. “She’s not your daughter,” I informed him icily. “You lost any claim on her the moment you laid a hand on me when she was growing inside me. When you almost killed her,” I sneered.
Sid banged his fist down on the table, his calm façade shattering. “I said I was sorry, didn’t I?” he bellowed. “When you made me believe she was dead, I was fucking sorry! It haunted me for years,” he screamed, spittle flying out his mouth. “It gave you no right to run, to hide from me.”
I laughed without humor. “You are fucking insane,” I informed him. “When you beat me while I had my daughter inside me, you gave me every fucking right to get as far away from you as humanely possible, you sick fuck,” I yelled, pushing back from my chair.
Quick as a flash, Sid was up and had plowed his fist through my face before I even had time to react. My body was thrown back into the glass door behind me. The impact sent pain vibrating through my body, up my spine. I was lucky it didn’t smash. Pain erupted not only in my jaw but in my wrist, which I had thrown out to break my fall. I lay there holding my jaw, cradling my other arm to my stomach. I bit my lip to stop the tears from falling. I was in a lot of fucking pain but I wouldn’t give him my tears. My eyes didn’t leave Sid, the hatred I felt for the man increasing by the second.
He walked over to me slowly, his Gucci loafers stopping at my prone body. He knelt down, his eyes blank.
“Why do you make me do this?” he asked, shaking his head. His hand went to brush a hair out of my face. I flinched.
“Maybe you’ll be different when Hillary’s here, when we can be a real family,” he mused thoughtfully.
In my pain-drenched haze I still realized that Sid had well and truly gone off the deep end, if he had ever been swimming in the shallow waters of sanity. Maybe he had always been this crazy, but my naïve teenage eyes had been blinded by affection and the illusion of love. Of being wanted. Now that I knew what real love was, I saw him for the monster he was.
“But while we wait for her I think you need some time—time to mull over what being a good wife means,” he continued, his voice flat, as is he hadn’t just plowed a fist into my face and potentially broken my arm. “And you think while you have that time, that if when Hillary gets here you put a foot out of line, it will be in front of our daughter that you get taught your lesson.”
It was dark. And cold. Wherever I was wasn’t intended by the decorator to see the light of day. There was a weird metallic tang in the air and a dripping sound that seemed to echo in the small room. The floor was concrete and the only furniture was the chain that was connected to the wall and my ankle. Yes, I was chained up to the freaking wall. Like an animal. If I had been awake while they were doing this, I would have struggled and screamed like a banshee. But instead, like the coward that he was, Sid had once again plowed his fist through my face to knock me out. Didn’t the fuckhead ever hear of a sleeping pill? Or a friggin’ tranquilizer? If I had to be knocked out, I much would have preferred those options. I doubted they would come with the ear splitting headache that made it hard to think straight. And the only thoughts whirring through my pounding head were of my daughter. Of the chances of Sid actually getting his hands on her. I would happily stay chained here for the rest of my life, however long that may be, if it meant Lexie never had to breathe her father’s air. I really didn’t want to die here, though. And never see my kid graduate high school. Become a world famous rock star. Get married. Have a baby of her own. The thought of her doing all that, without me, made me taste bile. The thought of Zane, the pain he must be in. If something happened to me like it had to Laurie, I didn’t think he’d ever recover. A man could only take so much before being broken completely. With one fell swoop, Sid had stomped on three lives, wearing Gucci loafers.
Time moves slowly when you’re chained up in the darkness. Or quickly. Maybe time didn’t mean a thing. I was left with only my thoughts, and in the dark came the darkest of thoughts. I jumped slightly when I thought I heard faint sounds of gunshots. I listened hard, but I heard nothing else. I reasoned I imagined it. Wishful thinking and all that. I jostled slightly and it sent pain vibrating up my arm. Yep, definitely broken. I struggled not to let my mind be overrun with the demons that preyed in the darkness. The dark thoughts. Like I was going to die here. Like I was never going to see my daughter again. I’d never get to feel Zane’s arms around me again. I fought against those dark thoughts. Zane’s words after Ava and Steve died came into my head. “You need to bring the light in before the darkness settles.”
So instead of focusing on how alone I was in the dark, I thought of how happy I had been.
I stroked the three-day stubble that prickled against my fingers, slightly obscuring his dark goatee. “Please don’t grow a beard,” I requested quietly.
Zane glanced down at me with a guarded look on his face. He didn’t speak but he was using his usual nonverbal communication. I was becoming very fluent in this Zane speak. As was Lexie.
“If you grew a beard, it would make you...” I paused to calculate in my head. “About ten times hotter. And not only is that not fair to your fellow average Joe who barely stands a chance against goatee Zane, it also means that I’ll have to get acrylic nails.” I met his eyes. “For defensive purposes. I’ll have to scratch bitches who get all hypnotized by the hotness of you, and with the beard—” I shook my head gravely. “It’ll cause hysteria.” I glanced down at my hands. “Plus, I hate acrylic nails. I can never do menial tasks because of the plastic talons stuck to my fingers. I envy women who can conquer the day with them. I am not one of those women.”
Zane looked at me for a long moment. His face was carefully blank. Then, without warning, he roared with laughter.
>
I blinked.
Zane. Laughing. I didn’t even know he was humanly capable of it. But here he was, his chuckles vibrating through his chest. And I made him do it. A warm feeling settled in my stomach.
Once he was finished he shook his head, eyes dancing as they regarded me.
“I’ve never seen you do that,” I whispered quietly. “Laugh,” I added for clarity.
His face turned suddenly serious, his hand moving to cup my jaw. “Didn’t have a reason to. Didn’t have a reason to smile, barely had a reason to get up in the morning, except the club.” He gave me a look. “Got a reason now. Got two, actually,” he added in a low voice.
That warm feeling settled in my stomach and spread to my toes and my eyes prickled.
“You can’t do that,” I said in a broken tone. “Hit me with a beautiful laugh and beautiful words without fair warning. I need time to build some emotional shields so I don’t burst into ugly tears.”
Zane’s hand tightened on my chin. “That’s the whole point, baby. Don’t want you building any walls for me to get to the core of you. Want to get into every part of you. Break down all those walls. ‘Cause you and Lex, you’ve bulldozed through all of mine.” He kissed me lightly but firmly. “And there’s no part of you that could be ugly,” he said before silencing me with a totally not light, open-mouthed kiss.
I jolted when I heard something. Definitely a gunshot. Yelling. My heart leapt. Zane was here.
“I’m in here!” I screamed, my voice croaky. I didn’t even know why I screamed. I doubted whoever was out there could hear me screaming over gunshots and in what I guessed was the basement. But I did it anyway, kept screaming, needing someone to hear me. They wouldn’t miss me, would they? It would be a pretty shitty rescue attempt if they didn’t even search the house properly for the person they were meant to be rescuing. The door opened, bringing a shaft of light into the room, illuminating the stairs. A horrible thought hit me. What if something happened and my guys didn’t win what sounded like a huge freaking gunfight? What if I wasn’t saved? My eyes were glued to the spot where my rescuer—or killer—would appear, my heart beating a million beats a minute. Then boots appeared at the stairs. Not boots I recognized. Nor was the form that made its way over to me. But I breathed a sigh of relief to see the uniform. He crouched in front of me, gently pushing hair out of my face. His flashlight illuminated his face. His familiar face. The hot cop I saw fighting with Rosie...Luke was his name. I sagged in relief. His expression was gentle and non-threatening.