Shadowman (Alabaster Penitentiary Book 5), page 60
This is getting so far out of hand, it’s fucking levitating. Turns out, I was clinging to the idea that I didn’t really know Trevel, because it allowed me to keep him at a distance. And now that he’s told me all of his secrets, there’s nothing left for me to hide behind. No more excuses to keep me safe and warm in denial…
God, I think he might really be my boyfriend.
Someone call an exterminator… I think I’ve caught the love bug.
Oh, God… barf times a million.
Taking a deep breath, I continue mulling around the study, because it’s safe and quiet and I need some alone time to gather my thoughts. Unfortunately, it’s not as secluded down here as I’d thought, because I hear sudden voices coming from the atrium.
They must hear me at the same time that I hear them, because two of The Ivory’s men swing around the corner, guns in hand. When they see that it’s me, they lower their weapons, and one of them rumbles, “It’s just Kang.”
Yup. Just me… The former inmate having a secret meltdown about the state of his prison marriage. Nothing to see here.
“Oh, good,” I hear Manuel Blanco murmur. “Send him in.”
“Wait… I wasn’t…” I start to protest, but give up noting their uninterested expressions and sigh, “Never mind.”
Wandering carefully onto the veranda that leads out to the garden’s patio, I balk at the first thing I see… The Ivory sitting on a loveseat with someone kneeling at his feet. It only takes a moment before I realize it’s Hancock—practically naked, and muzzled, with a leash connected to the collar around his neck.
“Holy balls…” I mutter under my breath, gawking at the former Alabaster Pen guard in a position I never would have expected to see him. And I’ve seen him in some pretty precarious positions. Mostly thanks to Ren.
“To what do I owe this pleasure, Byron?” the Warden says calmly, tugging the leash until Hancock stumbles. He seems out of it, but I think he’s registering my presence, eyes gleaming up at me from behind the thing covering his face.
Hancock was captured by The Ivory’s men a week or so back, after some shootout in the woods went sideways. He was treated for his gunshot wound, hence the gauze pad on his shoulder. In fact, that, the muzzle, a jockstrap, and a furry tail appear to be the only things he’s wearing.
Okay… Let’s look somewhere else.
From what I’ve heard, nabbing Simon Hancock was a win for The Ivory. It forced Velle to retreat and regroup, in the interest of keeping Hancock alive. I have no idea what any of that means for the outcome of this war, but I’m finding the state Hancock is in right now troubling. He was always one of the good guys. Not innocent by any stretch of the imagination—none of them were—but much less of a bastard than some others.
Oh, Jesus. Jasper… He’s probably freaking out.
Recalling that The Ivory asked me a question when he cocks a light eyebrow at my awkward silence, I clear my throat. “Uh… Just checking in. Seeing if you… need anything.”
Who are you, the butler now??
The Ivory’s gaze narrows, but he’s still smirking, and it’s wringing my stomach like a wet dishcloth. “As of matter of fact, I do need something from you. Well, need is a strong word. You’ll do it, or you’ll be dead. Sound good?”
I just stare at him with my mouth agape. What am I supposed to say to that??
“I’m expecting company,” he goes on, watching me closely. “One visitor, and one… not. You know both of them. Anyway, I need you nearby when they arrive.”
My brows crush together in obvious confusion. “Why…?”
“That will become readily apparent very soon, my darling fighter.” His smirk spreads into a devilish grin, and he pats the seat next to him.
I don’t move right away, not until his dark eyes sparkle with threatening urgency. Reluctantly, I step over and I sit down on the loveseat with as much space between us as physically possible. I can’t stop my eyes from repeatedly flicking to Hancock, fingers curling into a fist.
“Where is Trevel?” The Ivory asks, and I stiffen.
Truthfully, I don’t know where Trevel is right now. I haven’t seen him since he said he was going to check on Dr. Love, and that was a few hours ago. He could be anywhere at this point.
But that answer doesn’t work, so I say, “He’s with Johansson and Hassan.”
The Ivory shows me a pleased expression. “So he’s enjoying his time with Lemuel, then?”
I nod reticently. “Yes… Seems that way.”
“Good,” he sighs, crossing his ankle over his knee, wrapping Hancock’s leash around his fist until it tightens. “It’s important to reward loyalty, don’t you think?” He stares at me until I nod again. “Trevel has been vying for the good doctor since he got here, and while at first it wasn’t beneficial for me to show my hand, things have obviously changed.”
“That’s an understatement,” I mutter, then catch myself, eyes flinging to his.
He simply grins. “Felix Darcey will pop up eventually, and when he does, maybe I’ll let you take the reins on that one.”
I don’t even fucking care anymore, man. Felix Darcey is the least of my worries at this point. But I force a grateful nod and a curt, “Thank you.”
“In the meantime, I need to make sure you’ll be able to coexist with our visitor,” he goes on, absentmindedly brushing his fingers through the messy strands of Hancock’s brown hair. “It might be a bit trying for you. But just remember, you fought to be here, Byron. No one can take that away from you.”
I have no earthly clue what he’s talking about, but his words and the way he’s speaking them are causing nervous chills to scatter over my body.
Movement across the room catches my eye, and I gulp. Trevel has emerged from the far end of the garden… The opposite direction from where I just told The Ivory he was. When he sees us all sitting out here, he ducks behind some trees. I glance at The Ivory, then his men, releasing a secret breath. Thank fuck, they didn’t see him.
Trevel peers out just enough for my eyes to widen at him.
Stay where you are.
For the love of God, don’t let him see you.
My heart is thumping like crazy, but I’m trying to ignore it and act normal. Clomping footsteps grow closer as Kent storms outside, addressing The Ivory. “We’ve got him.”
Manuel Blanco chuckles, rubbing his hands together in satisfaction. “Perfect. Bring him to me.”
Kent nods, pulling the walkie off of his holster and grumbling into it, “Bring him to the atrium.”
“Go find Yari and let him know we’re all clear,” Blanco says. “I want you and Paulino up there to greet Russo when the helicopter touches down.”
“Yes, sir.” Kent stalks off almost as fast as my heart just sank into my gut.
Russo…
Did he just say… Russo?? As in, Governor Russo??
As in, Michelangelo’s scumbag father, the man responsible for me being locked up in Hell for three goddamn years?!
I feel myself pale. Naturally, The Ivory is already staring at me when I whip in his direction, and he murmurs, “I told you it would be a bit trying.”
“Trying??” I gasp, jumping up from my seat, panicked rage filling my extremities. “Are you fucking serious?! You expect me to be in the same room as him?? That man wants me dead… That’s why I’m here, you know that!”
“Sit down,” he commands, deep and warning.
I have no choice but to slink back into my seat, though my knee is bouncing rapidly. I expect The Ivory to spout some of his usual ominous Jigsaw crap, but when he isn’t speaking, I allow my eyes to slide his way again.
Leaning closer to me, his dark gaze hardens in frustration. “Do you think I want him here? Considering the current state of this island, it’s not exactly the best time for the Governor of fucking New York to show up. I’ve held him off as long as I could, and now he’s coming. Swallow it, shadowman. It’s happening.”
My jaw clenches so hard I feel my teeth snapping. “I can’t look him in the eye. He ruined my life.”
“You can and you will,” he says firmly, though his tone is much less foreboding than before. It sounds almost… supportive? That is, until his head cocks. “Unless you’re more worried that seeing him will remind you of what else you lost… Aside from your freedom, I mean.”
My lungs shrivel up, and my heart constricts, like everything behind my ribcage is being crushed. Of course, seeing Michelangelo’s father again will remind me of him, and how we were before he caught us. It’s as devastating as it is enraging.
The smallest silver lining in being here was knowing I’d never have to see Governor Russo’s fucking face again. Now he’s coming here?!
And The Ivory expects me to… what? Play nice??
Are you fucking kidding me??
The fear and anger in me feel like anchors around my ankles, pulling me underwater. Glancing behind The Ivory, I subtly search for Trevel. But I don’t see him over there anymore.
The Warden straightens at the sound of footsteps approaching, joined by the familiar clanking of chains. “Don’t worry, Byron. Something tells me you’re about to have more on your mind than just reuniting with your ex’s terrible father…”
Suddenly, two of his men come clomping up the path, dragging someone along in shackles, hands cuffed behind their back and a bag over their head. My breathing is labored as they shove the person onto their knees in front of us.
The Ivory looks purely elated, reaching forward to grab the bag and yank it off.
What…
The…
Fuck.
A gasp flees my lips, eyes bulging out of my skull. “Dash??”
The unmistakable hazel gaze of my friend I haven’t seen in months—because he fucking escaped—shimmers up at me, tousled pink hair hanging in his eyes. He blinks, in just as much apparent shock to see me as I’m feeling from seeing him. Blowing the silky strands away, he peeks at The Ivory, expression hardening to a distinct hatred.
Manuel Blanco smirks and reclines. “Welcome back, Dascha.”
Perfect fucking timing… Trevel comes traipsing around the corner, while I’m reeling down to my goddamn soul, and looks around. “What did I miss?”
My eyes are on The Ivory. Concern ripples and rushes all over me as I watch him, taking a phone call across the room. When I’m absolutely sure he’s not paying attention, I lean in.
But Dash beats me to it. “Bro, oh my God,” he sighs, an exhausted, fluttery chuckle, swirls of brown and green aimed up at me, all wide and shiny. “It’s so good to see you.”
“You too.” I shake my head over and over. “But what are you doing here??”
“I could ask you the same thing…” His gaze narrows, shifting briefly to Trevel. I swallow hard, and we both check on The Ivory again before he whispers, “Kemper and I came back.”
“On purpose??” I gasp. Trevel shoots me a be quiet look.
“We’ve been trying to call Joy for weeks and couldn’t get ahold of anyone,” he explains, hushed yet determined. Not a ton of worry in his tone for someone who escaped prison and this island, only to find himself chained up in front of the very psychopath he dipped out on. “I was sure something was wrong. I mean, clearly, I was right…” He gives me a knowing look.
Accurate. Shit is all kinds of fucked right now.
Hancock tries mumbling something beneath his muzzle, and I snap, “Shh! Not now.”
“What the hell are you doing over here?” Dash asks again. “Why aren’t you with Velle?”
“We were here when the prison fell, and shit got… complicated,” I mutter sheepishly, gulping. “It’s a long story.”
Dash is peering up at Trevel again, who’s studying him right back, head cocked in that curious animal way that I find pretty cute, but I think others might find unsettling.
“Oh, sorry… Dash, this is, um, Trevel,” I rasp, trying not to sound as uncomfortable as I’m feeling. “He’s 102. Trev, this is Dash. He was 101… until he escaped.”
“Charmed.” Trevel pulls a polite grin that’s more skeptical than anything. He’s getting the same thing right back.
Dash squints at him. Then at me. “Are you two a thing?”
I’m gawking and speechless while Hancock nods enthusiastically. I kick him in the back, and he grunts. “Where’s Kemper?” I ask, blatantly ignoring his question. “And how did The Ivory get you??”
Dash’s lips part, but the answers I desperately want are interrupted by the Warden stalking over. We all scuttle back into place, presenting as much innocence as we can.
“Sorry about that,” he sighs, returning to his seat beside me. “Business as usual. Now, where were we?”
“I think you were about to take these goddamn chains off me,” Dash grunts.
The Ivory chuckles. “Was I?”
“If you want me to play along.” Dash shrugs.
I’m bewildered right now. I just can’t fucking believe Dash is here, and that he’s going toe-to-toe with Manuel Blanco, after escaping and turning this whole damn place upside down!
The kid’s got fuckin balls. He’s an Alabaster Pen rock star!
“Or maybe I could just kill you,” The Ivory grumbles, then grins. “After all, Russo only wants to know that you’re here. He doesn’t care what state your sexy little corpse is in.”
“But someone else does…” Dash hisses through gritted teeth.
Blanco’s amusement falls away, and he purses his lips to downplay his obvious irritation. It seems like Dash has some kind of leverage I don’t know about.
Who? Who are they talking about??
“Keep pushing me, Dascha, and I’ll cut out Kellan Kemper’s tongue,” he seethes.
Dash doesn’t budge. “Good luck finding him.”
“Nice try. But we both know he would never allow you to come here alone.”
“I’m not alone,” Dash growls. “I’ve got family here… Remember?”
“Listen to me, you little shit,” The Ivory’s tone hops right over the line from controlled anger to unhinged wrath. Like flipping a switch. “You’re mine, understand me?? As far as the world is concerned, I fucking own you. So do me a favor and keep your pouty mouth shut while I handle Russo, or so help me, I will not stop until you’re in bits and pieces. Your officer will be bringing you back to Mexico in a goddamn Tupperware container like last night’s leftovers!”
My nervous eyes meet Trevel’s, both of us visibly stiff. Dash is glaring at The Ivory, practically buzzing, though he doesn’t respond to that threat. Simply sits back on his knees and cocks his head, displaying a bored expression.
The Ivory’s dark gaze stays on the Russian bank robber for a few extra seconds that feel like heavy minutes. His jaw is visibly tight, and there’s a tick of something extremely stabby, even more than the usual hostility over Dash escaping. I really wish I knew what was going on here…
I want details.
That’s the worst part of this position I find myself in. I’m expected to sit by The Ivory’s side, obey him while mindlessly nodding like, yes, sir, Mr. Blanco, sir…
But I don’t get any intel. I’m still fully in the dark. The only real perk in all this is sleeping in the mansion and eating good food. Is it worth it?? I can’t really tell. Sometimes I think it might be, but moments like these have me second-guessing everything.
The Ivory eventually stands with a sigh, nodding at the two officers who brought Dash in. They immediately stomp toward the doorway that leads inside the mansion.
“Keep an eye on him,” he says to Trevel. His eyes bounce to me, brow cocking pointedly. This is an expression I can read.
I’m not sure I trust you with this one.
Still, he hands me Hancock’s leash. “We’ll be back. Just going on a scenic stroll…”
His evil eyes fall to Dash once more before he stalks after the guards. “Scour the area! Kellan Kemper’s here… I want him found.”
As soon as he’s out of sight, Dash breathes hard, wobbling to his feet.
Shaking myself out of it, I ask Trevel, “You still have those cuff and shackle keys?”
Trevel pauses, watching Dash as he nods hesitantly, using the keys we got from the dead doctors to unlock Dash’s chains.
Dash eyes Trevel while rubbing his wrists. “Thanks…”
Trevel nods, though he still doesn’t appear confident in this move. We’re supposed to be on Team Ivory… Granted, I’m not sure I ever really saw how that would work. But if he finds out we’re breaking the rules, we’re dead.
“So are you siding with this asshole now??” Dash growls at me, bending to fuss with the muzzle on Hancock’s face. “You remember that he’s been personally responsible for all of our misery for years, right?”
He manages to get it off, and Hancock immediately groans, spitting on the floor. “Jesus motherfucking Mary and Joseph! That thing was so uncomfortable.” He unbuckles the clip of the leash from his collar and grunts, “Kang, be a pal and pull this fucking plug out of my ass, would you?”
“Pretty sure you can do that yourself,” I mutter, dropping the leash onto the floor, eyes springing back to Dash. “And I’m not siding with him. I’m just here. Not that it matters… Velle doesn’t care about me, so what difference does it make??”
Dash looks like he wants to argue, but I think he realizes it’s pointless. He knows damn well Velle only cares about three things in this world… Rook, Joy, and himself.
“Well, what about Luthor and Ren?” he asks, and my heart sinks like a hunk of concrete tossed into the ocean. “They must be over there, right?? How could you not be with them?”
Swallowing is difficult, as if my throat is closing up. I glance at Trevel, who’s giving me a very intense look, then Hancock, whose face falls in despair.
Dash must be noting the grim expressions and the sudden mist of sadness covering us all. His shoulders drop, eyes widened with unease. “What…?”
“Dash…” I shake my head slowly. “Luthor and Ren are… They didn’t…”
I physically can’t say the words. It feels like knives are stabbing me in the heart every time I think them. Speaking them out loud solidifies it.
