“Well, for now, how about you call me ‘Daddy’.” Unlike when Tally had said it jokingly in the lobby, this man clearly said it suggestively. “Or would that bring up too many painful memories for you? Honestly, I am very surprised by the lack of police. I expected to hear sirens before I got down the mountain.” He tsked his tongue like a parent scolding a child. “But bad girl, you didn’t call the police, did you? Tell me, where did you bury the body? It must have taken you all of yesterday to clean up your house. I didn’t see a spec of blood anywhere in sight.”
That sickening feeling returned at the suggestion that this man, whom sherefusedto call “Daddy”, had been inside her house. Again. Though he didn’t take a seat, he didn’t just stand there either. He shifted animatedly, clearly doing his best to exude dominance over her. Yet somehow, Scar remained behind him, and like a lightbulb going off in her head, Toni realized Scarwas staying outside the man’s periphery. That was how he was staying invisible. Who the hell was Scar that he had that sort of cognizance, not only over his own body but of everyone else in the room? Toni wasveryaware that she would not be seeing him if he did not want her to.
Not wanting to get distracted by Scar or draw attention to his presence, Toni stared at the nameless man. “How about I call you ‘Mr. Smith’?” she asked rhetorically instead of responding to his questions and implications.
The man’s eye twitched, and for just a second, annoyance replaced arrogance. She tried to file away everything about him, from his brown eyes to the slight Brooklyn lilt he had to his voice. Anything she could use to identify him later if needed.
“You still have not explained what it is you are doing here, Mr. Smith, and as you may have noticed, I have another client waiting for me in the lobby.” Toni gestured behind him before cursing herself, fearing he’d turn around and see Scar, but the man never removed his gaze from her.
“Tough shit,” he said cockily. “That blind bitch can wait.”
The second those words were out of his mouth, Scar had pulled a knife and advanced. Toni jumped to her feet on reflex, not sure what it was she should or wanted to do. But just before Scar struck, the man froze and cocked his head like he was listening to something. As Mr. Smith stood there, completely unaware of the danger at his back, Scar curled his marred lip, and returned the dagger to wherever he kept it under his cut. That murderous look did not leave his sapphire blue eyes.
At Toni’s leap to her feet, Mr. Smith laughed. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I offend your sensibilities? Forgive me if keeping things PC are low on my priorities. Now, sit your ass back down and listen to what I’m about to tell you.”
Toni’s jaw ticked, but she did not allow herself to give her annoyance away. It was bad enough Scar had almost killed theman in front of her for calling Tally a blind bitch. Stiffly, Toni sat back down. Thankfully, Mr. Smith seemed to be taking her shocked reaction at his near murder as her being insulted at his slight towards Tally.
“Good girl.” He leaned forward on the edge of her desk, likely trying to appear intimidating. “Now. I know what you did and I have proof. So here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to pay me what your parents owe me. They’ve been running a tab on product for months, and since Daddy Dearest is no longer around to pay it, that debt’s now yours. After that, you’re mine. Any client I send your way goes free. If a single one of them gets time, you will never see your mother alive again.”
Toni’s shock that time was real. “My mom? You have my mom!?”
Mr. Smith nodded. “And she’s going to remain in my care to ensure your compliance.”
A voice suddenly appeared in Toni’s head, making her jump in her desk chair. “Ask for proof of life,” Ghost told her.
What the hell? Was he telepathic? In her shock, it took her a second to remember the tooth device. It must have some sort of receiver that allowed Ghost to talk to her. And probably Scar, now that she thought of it.
“How… How do I know you have her? That she’s alive?”
Mr. Smith reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a balled-up, white handkerchief with crimson blotches. “There’s your proof.”
On her desk, the cloth fell open to reveal a severed pointer finger with pink nail polish. Toni stared at it, horrified.
“Do as I say, or Mommy loses another finger.” Next to the handkerchief, he dropped a business card onto her desk. “Amount owed to me and my account number. I’ll be in touch, Ms. Anderson.”
Mr. Smith turned and left her office. The door wasn’t even closed before Toni heard Ghost’s voice in her head again. “Scar, follow him. Let’s see if he leads us to her mom. Toni, stay where you are. Ranger’s on his way in. Don’t touch anything.”
Like she was planning on picking up her mom’s finger and examining it?
Several minutes later, Ranger came bursting into her office. She looked up, feeling the cold stream of tears on her cheeks. She didn’t know how or when Scar had left the room, but he was no longer present. At least, that she could see.
Ranger quickly rushed over to her desk. He carefully covered her mom’s finger with the handkerchief and then brought it out of her office. Though he was gone barely a minute, Toni still didn’t move. Fear, terror, and shame kept her frozen like a statue.
When Ranger returned, he closed and locked the door behind himself. Coming around her desk, he easily picked her up, took her place in her chair, and then settled her onto his lap. “I’m here,” he promised, face pressed into her hair. “I’m here, Antonia. Let it out. Let it out, baby. I’m right here…”
Thawing at his touch, Toni started shaking. She buried her face into his neck and burst into tears.
* * *
When the clubhad purchased the distillery property, there had been no record of an underground portion of the building they’d claimed as their clubhouse. Roughly three years after the club had formed, they’d stumbled upon the former cellar. Since it was empty, the club could only speculate as to what it had been used for, but the assumption was that the distillery owner wanted to store certain assets off the books.
The single room, roughly eight by eight, had a naked lightbulb in the center to illuminate the entire space. Since there was no HVAC system below, it had a dank, mildew-like smell and was either extremely hot or extremely cold.
When it became obvious that their quiet small town was drawing unwanted attention, the club decided to outfit the cellar to fit their more…mercilessneeds. Chains had been added, as well as a table to store various intimidatingly sharp objects. A single drain in the center of the floor acted as a bathroom for the doomed souls who found themselves in chains and a convenience for the prospects who had the unfortunate task of cleaning up.
For nearly two years, the cellar had one permanent resident—Nathan Moore, the child rapist who had abducted Bree when she was twelve years old and then sold her to an amateur snuff filmmaker when she’d gotten too old for his specific tastes. He’d owed Angel a daily debt of pain and suffering for what he’d done to her adopted daughter. Unfortunately, daily torture took its toll, and despite Bear’s best efforts, he could not keep Moore alive to continue to pay penance. When it was obvious the man was on death’s door, Angel brought him to one of the construction sites Cage’s company was working on, dropped him into a wooden frame, and then poured concrete over his barely breathing, broken form. While Angel would have been satisfied leaving him there, Cage dug up the concrete block and dropped it into the river when it was still high from winter runoff from the mountain.
Naked and scalped, Cody Pike now hung from the ceiling.
