Beneath Your Lies, page 19
“If Richard is behind this, why now? It’s a risky time for him to be involved in some shady off-the-books shit.” My brain pulses as I try to make things make sense. “How would he know about me killing Jacob? And why would he want to keep this off the books? It’d be better for him to keep this official. It’d look good for his reputation.”
“Maybe it has something to do with the fact that he was trying to have Jacob sleep with his wife?” Sylvie asks. “I’m sure that wouldn’t look very good for his reputation.”
“It makes sense as much as it doesn’t. We need something tangible on this before I can make any moves.”
“Do you think there is any chance he could’ve found out about the hit?”
Now this is a possibility I haven’t thought of. Richard has eyes everywhere. For fuck’s sake, the man is the state’s district attorney. It’s not impossible, but it’s still unlikely. Mark and I did our due diligence. Is there a rat somewhere, leaking information? It has to be someone in Mark’s circle. Another reason why my circle is so small.
“Mark did withdraw Richard’s name from the list. Coincidence?” I mumble.
Sylvie’s eyes shoot to mine. “Excuse me? You didn’t think this was something I should know about?”
“I—” Shit. I fucked up.
She waves her hand at me. “I get it, you wanted me to keep tailing him because of the wife. It’s fine.”
She’s annoyed, and she has every right to be. How can she trust me when I’m leaving out important pieces of information? It’s not just me who’s involved in this. She’s as guilty as I am.
“I’ll keep digging until I find something,” she says as she leans closer to look at her screens.
“Thanks, Syl. Really. Couldn’t do it without you.”
I feel guilty about not telling Sylvie something so important. In order for us to be a team, we need to work together. Another reminder that my head is not in the game.
“Yeah, yeah. I know.” She laughs, the tension easing slightly. “Just shut up about it and give me a raise instead.”
45
Veronica
Darkness surrounds me as the rough fabric of the black hood hangs over my face. Muffled sounds of the outside world come and go while I’m forcefully carried to an unknown destination. I’m thrown against metal, and the impact sends shock waves through my body. My heart pounds in my chest, the sound reverberating in my confined space. My hands are tied behind my back, and my ankles are tightly tied together. I hear only muffled echoes of distant voices and the low rumble of an engine firing up.
I shouldn’t have pushed Richard so far. Why’d I tell him that I was the rat giving the journalist information on his doings? That was going too far. I should’ve made sure I had a plan in place to keep me safe before outing myself. I knew he would be upset with me, but his punishment is to have me kidnapped? What is he thinking?
Each bump and sway of the vehicle serves as a reminder of my helplessness. It’s punishment for what I’ve done. Sweat beads on my brow, and I twist and fidget against my restraint, desperate for any shred of hope.
My breath is shallow and requires too much effort. I begin to feel dizzy as my consciousness fades out of reach. The darkness is now completely taking hold.
The hood is yanked from my head, and my eyelids blink rapidly, trying to adjust to the fluorescent lights beaming overhead. My heart pounds in my chest, and droplets of sweat travel down my skin. The edges of my vision are still black, and my eyes are unfocused, thanks to a skull-splitting headache that engulfs my head.
The space I find myself in resembles a basement, with its concrete walls and overpowering emptiness. The ceiling is supported by sturdy, exposed beams. The air is musty, carrying a faint scent of concrete and old construction materials.
A tall man comes into focus underneath the harsh lights and my eyes snap in his direction. He’s not alone; I see two men behind him and another man standing back to guard the door.
“What do you want?” My voice quivers as I speak, my fear palpable.
As he walks across the floor, I see it’s covered in a patchwork of worn-out tiles. Water stains mark the walls behind him; the only noticeable features are the various exposed pipes. Footsteps creak as they make their way over to me.
I huff a breath to blow the hair from my eyes, desperate to use whatever bargaining tips I can to get myself out of this situation as fast as possible.
“Please, tell Richard we can discuss this,” I beg, softening my voice.
The first man who stands closest to me stares at me intently. A crease between his two brows deepens as they pinch together. His frustration is visible as the muscles in his jaw clench.
“Tell him I’m sorry for the stuff I said earlier. I was out of line,” I cry, desperate to escape.
I didn’t think Richard would take it this far. But I should’ve known better.
The man hesitates for a moment, then he spits onto the concrete floor before replying. The moment of silence can’t prepare me for the words that come out of his mouth.
“Who the fuck is Richard?”
46
Ronan
Tailing two police officers is a lot easier than I thought it would be. Especially these two idiots—they’re oblivious of everything around them, but right now, they are my biggest lead to figuring out what the hell is going on.
I take a picture of their license plate as they exit the car and send the image to Sylvie. Sitting in the parking lot of a local bar, I watch them as they disappear through the front door.
For a second, my annoyance gets the better of me, and I think about going inside. Drawing attention to myself will only make things worse. They’d probably try to provoke me, and it’d be impossible to keep myself from beating the shit out of them. That’s one way to end up in a jail cell faster.
I need to wait them out and see where they go after this. That might give me a clue as to who they’re working with.
I glance back at my phone and my annoyance peaks. No messages or calls from Veronica. I haven’t heard from her since last night and it pisses me off. I click her name on my phone to call her.
You’ve reached Veronica Sullivan. Please leave a message after the beep.
I toss my phone into my passenger seat. Her phone must be off, and I wonder if she’s avoiding me. All of this shit I’m going through is likely because of her and she’s blowing me off. All I need is confirmation that Richard is involved in this, and I’ll figure out where to go from there.
I had already been planning on killing him. Maybe I need to come clean to Veronica about everything and let her know I was hired to kill Richard. I need to make sure she understands that’s not why I’m interested in her. She was never meant to be a part of this. It was by pure chance that I spotted her that night in the bar. With her involvement, she could help me take him out. Something a little less hands-off. It wouldn’t be satisfying, but it would keep me out of prison in more ways than one.
My phone rings and I move quickly to grab it, anxious to talk to Veronica.
“Hey, Ronan,” Sylvie says, her voice trailing off.
“Yeah?” I reply. “Did you find something?”
She pauses, and I can hear the hesitation in her voice.
“When was the last time you talked to Veronica?”
47
Veronica
His words echo in my ears as the first real tendril of panic winds its way through my chest. I’m in real danger. My breaths are uneven, and my lungs refuse to fill with air. A tightening sensation grips my throat, constricting it like an invisible hand. Each inhale is a desperate struggle. The world around me blurs, distorted by the haze of anxiety clouding my vision. My restricted palms are clammy. I’m trapped.
No one knows I’m here.
The unknown man steps closer before clearing his throat to speak again. “Your little boyfriend had the audacity to attack my son and his friend.”
My mouth falls open momentarily before I snap it shut.
This is about Ronan.
I try to speak, but my voice croaks. I try to swallow, but my throat feels like it is coated in razor blades. I cough, trying to regain my composure.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I squeak.
He cocks his head slightly, but his gaze never falters. A sinister smirk that makes my skin crawl dances across his lips.
“Oh, don’t you?” he purrs, taking a few steps closer to me. “You don’t remember the two men you met one night? You almost took them both back to your hotel room.”
He looks at me with true disgust on his face.
My mouth drops open. That’s what this is about? Those two assholes from the hotel who tried to take advantage of me the night Ronan saved me?
He must see the gleam of recognition in my eye.
“Luckily, they decided you were too drunk and went home.”
His smirk breaks into a devilish smile that sends a shudder down my spine. I’m going to be sick.
“That’s not true,” I spit out, then shout, “They didn’t leave me—they were going to rape me.”
His face burns in anger, and he shoots forward, wrapping a calloused hand around my throat. His smile has completely disappeared.
“Shut the fuck up,” he spits in my face. “You were probably begging for it. Dumb sluts like you always do. Then you try to play it off like you didn’t want it.”
He pinches his lips together and looks down at me like he’s the one who is going to be sick. All the while, his hand is still gripping my throat. Pressure pushes at my temples as my lungs struggle to take in air.
“You don’t know what he did to them, do you?” he asks.
I shake my head aggressively. I don’t have the slightest idea what he’s referring to. For all I know, Ronan saved me and then we went on our first date that night.
“Your little boyfriend paid a visit to them the next day. Beat them both so badly that my son’s friend will probably never walk again. He ruined my son’s hand.” He flares his nostrils. “Since then, we’ve traveled to many reconstructive surgeons, the best in the country, and nothing can be done to salvage the damage that was done.”
I notice his other fist clenching by his side while his grip tightens on my throat. My eyes begin to bulge from the restraint. A single tear escapes from my eye and rolls down my face onto his hand.
“Your boyfriend broke his fingers at every joint. Do you want to know why he did what he did?”
His voice is unsteady with anger, his eyes twitching with unkempt fury behind them. He finally lets go of my throat and pushes me back so that the chair scrapes across the floor.
I choke on coughs as spit sputters from my mouth. I drop my gaze and try to catch my breath. After a few moments, I look back up to him with tears coursing down my cheeks. I realize he wants me to answer him.
“No…” My voice is hoarse, and it hurts to speak.
“He said it was because that hand touched something that belonged to him. And since he’d touched something that was his, he would make sure my son could never use that hand again.”
A sliver of pride churns in my stomach among the rolling nausea.
His.
I try to not convey the emotions on my face. What’s wrong with me? Shouldn’t I be horrified by what Ronan did to those men?
No, I’m not. They deserved it. Ronan gave them exactly what they deserved.
“Unfortunately for you, your boyfriend is not an easy person to get a hold of. But I bet he’ll come running to save you. Won’t he, princess?”
The man closest to him steps forward hesitantly, cracking his knuckles. He steps around me and goes to the back of the chair, grabbing hold of the pinky finger on my left hand.
“The longer he takes, the more time we have to dirty up his little toy. Perhaps we’ll send you to him in pieces.”
He twists my finger with a sickening crack.
48
Ronan
Ihear a loud snap, and Veronica screams as I bite my tongue. My mouth pools with blood and saliva. This is because of what I did to those two fucks from the hotel bar.
They are hurting Veronica because of me. I’ve left a never-ending trail of enemies behind me. Sylvie was right—Veronica will always be a target when it comes to me. Thankfully, Sylvie saw some footage of Veronica being put into the back of the van in a dark part of the hotel’s parking deck. Extra surveillance of the hotel has proven to be more than necessary over the last week. When I said I’d do anything to protect Veronica, I meant it.
And I’ll kill anyone who tries to come between us.
I shove open the door with both hands. Every head whips in my direction. I see a brief wave of relief wash over Veronica’s face before she tenses back up, her face contorted in pain.
She thinks we’re both in danger. These men are unpredictable, and they have a score to settle.
But she doesn’t know exactly who I am yet.
Unfortunately for her, she’s about to find out.
I stop a few steps inside the room and tilt my head to take in Veronica’s appearance.
“Hello, love,” I say cheekily.
Her chest heaves in deep sobs as she leans forward, her face tilting down toward the floor.
The man standing behind her raises a knife to her throat.
I click my tongue. “I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” I say.
The one holding the knife to her throat scoffs. “And why is that?” He smiles in my direction.
The other men shift in preparation throughout the room.
“If you hurt her,” I say, as a smile spreads across my face, “then I have no reason to leave here alive.”
“We don’t intend to let either of you leave here alive,” the man behind Veronica replies.
“Neither would any of you,” I add. “You hurt her, and I have no problem setting this place on fire with all of us still inside.”
One of the other men lowers his eyebrows in question. “You wouldn’t…” he says, hoping to call my bluff.
The man’s hand holding the knife at Veronica’s throat twitches slightly as he assesses my threat.
“Want to find out?” I laugh, flicking open the lighter in my hand, finger atop the ignition. “Should’ve thought about where you were taking your hostage.”
I’ve always hated the places where I do business, but it pays to have the knowledge I do. A lot of old warehouses store highly flammable materials, such as chemicals, paints, or oils, in their recesses. This one is no different. Older buildings always have outdated electrical systems or neglected maintenance that are obvious fire hazards, especially with faulty wiring or overloaded circuits.
The man behind Veronica retracts his knife from her throat and starts walking toward me.
“Then she’ll watch you die.”
His steps quicken, and I predict his first blow. He swings the knife at me, and I dodge at the last second, letting his blow slice through the air. He recovers quickly and spins to strike again. I catch it in a closed hand, letting the blade cut deep into my flesh. His eyes widen as he looks at my grip on his knife.
I smile at him as the blood drips down the handle of the knife onto his hand, showing him just how little the pain affects me. He tries to rip the knife from my hand at the same moment I knee him in his groin. He hunches over, dropping the knife and giving me the perfect opportunity.
I grab the knife from the floor, then pull him by the hair on his scalp to stand up straight. Cleanly, I drag the blade across his neck as I stand behind him.
Letting his body drop to the floor, I turn my focus back to Veronica to make sure she’s unharmed. A large body collides with me from the side, and we crash to the ground as my breath heaves out of me.
I wrap my arms around his shoulders before turning him onto his back. I grab the pipe from his hands and strike him across the side of his head, knocking him unconscious.
I stand abruptly and brush off my shirt, looking at the only remaining person in the room besides Veronica and me.
“You must be the father.”
I smirk, spitting blood onto the floor before wiping my mouth with the back of my arm.
“Pity. I should’ve killed your son and saved us both the fucking trouble.”
His eyes glaze over as he lunges at me, wrapping his arms around my ribs and pushing me back into the wall. He grabs my shirt collar and lands a few jabs in my face. The next time he rears his fist back, I slip out of his grip and duck, letting his fist collide with the concrete wall. This gives me just enough time to twist his other arm and pin it behind his back.
“Ronan!” Veronica yells. “He has a gun!”
I see the man’s free arm move as he points a barrel over his shoulder directly into my face. He pulls the trigger, and I drop to the floor to avoid the bullet. It ricochets off the wall, but I can’t see where it hits. Veronica screams, and my heart stops.
Please, baby, please be okay. All of this can’t be for nothing.
Focusing solely on getting the gun out of his hands, I yank him down by his legs. He fumbles with the gun momentarily, and I use that moment to slap it out of his hands. It skids across the floor, and he watches it move farther away.
I twist him onto his back and wrap my fingers around his throat. Pressing as hard as I can, I yell as my fingers squeeze tighter. His face is losing color. His mouth cracks open as he tries to pull in oxygen.
I hold tightly until I can see life leave his eyes, pausing for just a bit longer to ensure he’s gone. I push up to my feet and drag my eyes slowly over to where the lone chair sits in the room. There, I glimpse Veronica and see her struggling against her restraints.
She’s alive. She’s okay.
I stand up and walk to the gun that’s still resting on the floor. I pick it up and swiftly shoot the unconscious man right in between his two eyes—not taking any more chances.
