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4

ALEXIS

TWO YEARS LATER

I t was a crisp fifteen degrees Fahrenheit, with an even crisper breeze in Denver, Colorado, as I climbed into my rented SUV in a shitty motel parking lot, that I of course, rented under a false name with a false ID. This is definitely the type of weather I’m not used to, being from Southern California, but I finally found them. Well, two of them; the Davis brothers… the men that killed my Amara.

It’s been two years since the Davis brothers killed my fiancée, and about a year and a half since Amara’s case went cold.

Detective Wallace and the LAPD were never able to locate the Davis brothers after ruling them as suspects, after their crime lab dug into Amara’s desk computer. They ambushed her at her desk, forcing their way into her computer so they could transfer Hope Center’s finances into an offshore account they owned. Before the LAPD could trace the account, it was gone. They killed her for fifteen million dollars.

The loss was the demise of the hospital. For four months after her murder, we had to work with neighboring hospitals and children’s hospitals to have all our patients transferred to continue their care elsewhere. In this process, we lost seventeen patients; they died once they got situated in their new locations.

It was too much for me to bear.

Hope Center has since been abandoned, the city unable to decide what to do with the property.

Which was perfect for me; I had plans.

It took me two days after Amara’s murder to muster up the courage to plug the USB drive for her hidden office camera into my laptop and watch what happened… watch what they did to her… What Dom, Erik, Aaron, and Sebastian did to her… Even though Emerson wasn’t in the room, he was just as guilty and would pay… They would all pay.

Gripping the steering wheel, my rage consumed me as I remembered every detail of what they did to her. I had the video from Amara’s secret camera saved on my phone, and I quickly found it, pressing play.

The love of my life sat at her desk, typing away on the keyboard of her computer, when a stern knock sounded on the other side of her office door.

“Open!” she called out in her familiar sing-song voice.

Dom and Erik Davis entered her office in their expensive suits and million-dollar smiles. Dom looked like a stereotypical meathead. All steroid muscle, bald, and had a permanent resting bitch face. Erik, on the other hand, was athletic, but not as big as Dom. He had perfectly styled black hair, and brown eyes, and an energy about him that was dominant; you knew he was the boss.

“Dom, Erik, a pleasure,” Amara greeted, walking around her desk to shake their hands. “Please have a seat; let’s discuss the plans for the new wing.” Amara walked back around to her side of the desk, scooting her chair in, and readying her pen on her notepad.

Dom and Erik unbuttoned their blazers before sitting down. Erik crossed an ankle over his knee, while Dom sat, tapping an impatient finger on the armrest of Amara’s chair.

“Yes, the plans,” Erik said with a sinister chuckle. “Let’s discuss our ‘plans,’ shall we?”

He looked over at Dom and gave him a nod. The moment Erik’s chin dipped, Dom was on his feet, locking the door.

“Here’s the plan, Amara. You are going to log into Hope Center’s bank account and transfer every cent here.” He slid a paper across Amara’s desk with their offshore banking information.

“What? This isn’t funny,” Amara said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“What’s funny is you thinking I’m joking,” Erik said, waving a finger over his shoulder, motioning to Dom.

In an instant, Dom was behind Amara, and had her hair wrapped around his fist. He slammed her head face down onto her desk twice before yanking her hair, raising her head, and forcing her to look at Erik. She whimpered in pain, a trail of blood leaking from her nose.

“N-no…” Amara stammered, standing her ground.

Erik stood from his chair, removing his blazer, and draping it neatly around the back of the chair he was sitting in. Looking up towards Dom, he nodded as he began rolling his sleeves up to his elbows.

“Wrong choice, my dear. Dom?” Erik said, his eyes still focused on his sleeves.

Releasing her hair, Dom reached behind him, pulling a 1911 from his waistband. Amara brought both hands to her face, covering her nose, completely oblivious to what Dom was doing. Holding his gun in one hand, he reached into his pants pocket with the other, pulling out a suppressor, and screwed it onto the barrel of the gun.

His movement in Amara’s periphery forced her to look in his direction, and right down the barrel of his gun.

“I suggest you log in now, or else Dom here will put a hole in that pretty little head of yours,” Erik said, now approaching the desk.

Erik pushed the keyboard closer to Amara, and with tears in her eyes, she turned her head to face him, bravely shoving it right back at him.

“No.”

Nodding at Dom again, Erik leaned his hands on the desk as Dom shot Amara on the outside of her thigh, then pressed the gun into her temple.

I paused the video. Hearing Amara cry out in pain made me grip the steering wheel tighter until my knuckles turned white. But I had to keep watching; I had to remember why I’m here… Feed my rage that I’ve been building for two years.

Taking a deep breath, the inferno of anger still burning inside me, but manageable for now, I pressed play and focused on the screen of my phone again.

“Log in, or else next time, Dom won’t miss.”

A knock sounded on the other side of Amara’s office door, sounding like an intentional beat in sets of three knocks. Erik pushed himself away from the desk and opened the door.

Aaron and Sebastian Davis entered the room with matching sinister smirks when they saw Amara. Closing the door, Erik locked it and stood with his arms crossed over his chest expectantly.

“Emerson is ready in the car; everything is on schedule and going to plan,” Aaron said, licking his lips with his filthy fucking eyes on Amara.

Aaron and Sebastian were twins, both with long chestnut brown hair that was pulled into a low man bun, green eyes, and full sleeves of tattoos.

“We don’t have a lot of time here, so no fucking fighting again like last time,” Erik scolded, pointing a harsh finger back and forth between Aaron and Sebastian.

Sebastian raised his hands in surrender.

“You got it, boss. No fucking fighting,” Sebastian said with a chuckle.

“My apologies, my dear. Where were we? Oh yes…” Erik said, turning back to face Amara, and walking towards her desk. “Log in. Now.”

Aaron walked around Amara’s desk on the other side of her. With a chuckle, he leaned in close to ear while she continued to whimper in pain.

“I suggest you do what you’re told. I’m not as… nice as Dom.” On his pause, Aaron pressed the blade of a knife across her neck, under her chin. “Log in, and do as you’re told.”

Amara winced in pain, closing her eyes, trying to calm herself.

“Maybe you need a little motivation then, hmm?” Aaron purred, dragging the tip of his blade down her cheek, opening a deep cut.

Dom held his gun in front of him, taking a step backwards and out of the way, watching his brother. Amara groaned in pain, but still held her ground, shaking and bleeding down the front of her blouse.

“Or maybe you need a different form of motivation…” Aaron said, slicing her blouse open at the buttons.

“Six minutes,” Sebastian said with a yawn.

“Get to it, Aaron,” Erik commanded.

“With pleasure.” Aaron pulled Amara out of her chair, bending her over her desk. With his knife, he sliced down the back of her pencil skirt, the fabric haphazardly falling to the floor. Making quick work of slicing her thong off, he gripped one side of her ass before landing a harsh slap.

“I get so hard seeing pretty things like you disobeying, begging for pain…” Aaron groaned, placing his knife down on the desk, away from Amara, to pull down his pants. “Maybe a needy bitch like you needs to be fucked in front of an audience, hmm?” he groaned.

I looked away from my phone, allowing the recording to keep playing. Staring at nothing outside the driver’s side window, I listened to that piece of shit use my Amara. The sound of his filthy fucking skin slapping onto hers, her cries in pain… I didn’t look back until I heard the soft tapping of Amara typing on her keyboard.

After inputting the login information, Sebastian took over, typing faster than I’d ever seen anyone type before.

“It’s done,” Sebastian said, walking towards Erik on the other side of the desk.

“Finish up here. You have two minutes,” Erik commanded, waving for Dom to follow him as he grabbed his blazer and heading out the door with Sebastian.

Once they left Amara alone with Aaron, he grinned at her bloodied and bruised body slumped over her desk. His knife had a hole at the bottom of the grip, and he spun it on his finger, stalking around her.

Amara reached a weak hand towards her desk phone, pressing the speed dial “one,” which was my phone. As soon as Aaron noticed, he swung his knife down, cutting the cord for the phone.

“Oh, what a naughty thing you are,” he said, gripping her hair in his fist.

Yanking her head back so she was looking to the ceiling, he pressed the tip of his blade into the side of her neck, under the curve of her jawbone leading to her ear.

“Pleasure doing business with you, sweetheart,” Aaron chuckled.

“Lex…” Amara whispered as he stabbed her through the neck. He tore the blade out of the front of her neck, a spray of blood splattering across Amara’s desk, and she slumped forward with a gasp.

Wiping his blade clean on what was left of her blouse, he placed it in a sleeve holster on his hip, quickly slipping out of the room.

Slamming my phone down on the steering wheel over and over, the screen cracked, and I shook with rage.

“I’ll get them, Amara…” I promised out loud as I drove out of the parking lot towards Dom and Aaron Davis.