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“It’s amusing that you demand I remove my hands like I’ll actually do what you want. I’ll be doing much more to Cat than this.” He punctuates his words by grabbing her roughly between the legs and squeezes. Cat cries out behind the tape and wiggles on the table as she tries to get away from his touch. “She and I have unfinished business and it’s well past time we complete it.”
“What in the fuck are you talking about?” I grit out, yanking harder on my wrists and turning them raw.
Thankfully, he removes his hand as he answers. “The night I so deliciously took your beautiful daughter and cute little boy from you, your dear wife wasn’t supposed to survive. She was to die right alongside them.”
Warmth trickles down my fingers. “Then why pretend to save her?”
“Because I realized I could prolong your torture.” He walks around the table and takes a seat on the couch, his position at the center of Cat’s torso and putting him in my direct line of sight. “Because I wanted to watch you try and fix your beautiful Cat, and just when you thought you might succeed, I’d be there to snatch her from you again.”
He grabs a lock of Cat’s hair, rubbing it between his fingers. His eyes lift and meet mine. “And you know what’s so damn delicious about that night?” I don’t take the bait. He’s going to tell me whether I want to hear it or not. “The fire at Slate—the reason you left the house.” His lips twist into a sinister smile. “I staged it to get you away so me and my boys could spend hours with your precious little family.”
The pressure in my head feels like it’s going to explode at any moment.
“Why?” I snarl. “Why target my family? What in the hell have I ever done to you?”
He pulls out a knife from a sheath by his ankle. “You took everything from me,” he says quietly, his gaze mesmerized by the blade in his hand. “You took everything away and left me with nothing.”
“What are you talking about? I had no idea who you were until the night you and those bastards broke into my house.”
His eyes lift, and for the first time since I met Jimmy, I know I’m finally seeing what he truly is. Hatred at its purest and deepest. A devious monster, filled to the brim with sick intentions. How did he hide himself so well from me?
“Oh, you know me. You know me really well actually. So well, in fact, that you should call us family.”
My limbs lock, and I cease my struggles. I throw his words around in my head, trying to comprehend them. I’m unable to because what he’s saying is too fucking absurd. I have no family. The only family I had, before they died when I was two, was my mother and father. That’s what the reports say, at least.
A portion of the inheritance I received after turning eighteen was used to search for my family. Patrick and Summer St. James were my only two relatives. No other relatives were associated with those two names, which must have been a lie since they had to have come from somewhere. Despite my efforts or the money I handed over to private investigators, nothing could be found.
After a couple of years, I stopped looking because it didn’t really matter. I didn’t need to know my background. It had no impact on where I was going.
I sit there and stare at Whisper, my expression blank and keeping my mouth shut, refusing to give him the satisfaction of my curiosity.
The bastard chuckles when I continue to keep silent after several minutes.
“You can try and hide it, but I see your interest, Hunter. I’ve been watching you a lot longer than five years and know every little detail there is to know about you. Including your facial expressions.” He places the tip of his blade on the hollow of Cat’s neck. She sucks in a breath and holds it. “Like right now, you’re imagining taking this knife,” he moves the tip down her neck, “and jamming it down my throat.” His lips curve into a cruel smile. “Am I right?”
Pretty fucking close, but not quite. I’d first use it to cut off his dick and shove that down his throat before forcing the blade down afterward.
“Anyway,” he says as he uses the knife to pick up one of the straps on Cat’s dress. “Back to what I was saying before. You believe Patrick and Summer St. James were your parents, but they were fictitious.” He flicks his wrist and the strap easily cuts in two. I clench my jaw, my teeth nearly snapping at the pressure. He does the same to the other strap. “Created by our parents, Nicholas and Teresa Monroe.”
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” I grind out.
I keep my eyes on his, but in my peripheral vision, I see him slowly begin sawing Cat’s dress down the middle. Behind me, my hands are slick with blood as I continue to try to loosen the ropes.
“I have birth records.”
“Those can be forged, just as you implied the same with Patrick and Summer St. James.”
“And pictures,” he continues as if knowing what I was going to say. He looks up, his eyes moving to my right forearm. “You have a birthmark on your right arm in the shape of a dragonfly.”
He sets the knife down on Cat’s stomach and pulls up the sleeve of his dress shirt, showing the exact same birthmark on his left arm. I’ve never seen that mark on another person, and the chances of it being on someone else are damn near impossible. Unless we’re related.
“Who in the fuck are you?” I growl.
“Your big brother,” he answers.
“Why was it hidden where I came from?”
“Because our father dabbled in shit that wasn’t legal. He was part of the Chicago mafia. He set it up so that if anything ever happened to him, his wife and children would be given new identities. He didn’t want anyone coming after his family. The same was set up if only his children survived.”
