Page 37 of Blue-Eyed Jacks (Destroyers MC: Skilletsville PA #1)

Kate’s Childhood Home, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania—Kate

“Y ou lived here?” Zoe’s voice echoed in the large foyer. Cara insisted my daughter come in with us. I bit my argument back because separating from my daughter also felt wrong.

Cara replied when I stayed silent. “I lived here with your grandfather.”

Lovely . That was an image I didn’t want in my head. Nor did I want my daughter acknowledging that coked-up pile of human shit was any relation to her.

“It’s almost fancier than some of the houses we cleaned.” Zoe’s comments faded as she wandered into what used to be my music room. “Is that a grand piano?”

I stayed glued to the foyer.

“Zoe, get back here,” I called out. The sooner we got out of this nightmare, the better. “Nice marble,” I indicated the floor. It used to be tile.

“Thanks, I picked it out.” Cara directed me to Dad’s study. The same place he’d signed my life away. That room was unchanged except for the bars installed on the windows. Their oddity finally registered. Every window had bars on it, like a prison. I shuddered.

Zoe rejoined us. She stood to the side of the door with her back to the wall.

Cara pointed to the art on the wall. “Have at it.”

The painting was new. It used to be a hunting scene with ducks. Now, it was an abstract splash of neutrals with bright red slashing through the plain, as if it were a bucket of blood captured mid-toss in a torture chamber.

I flicked through the numbers. The handle turned easily.

Inside were stacks of leather binders. Most of them were from his firm.

I put them on the desk while Cara stood back, gun casually held at her side.

A threat, but disguised as an afterthought.

It was top of mind as I pulled out the stuffed bank bag under the heavy binders.

The lock clanked against the metal rim of the safe.

I almost dropped it. “This is heavy.”

It thunked as I placed it on the desk.

I scanned the walls of the now-empty safe, searching for any indication there were hidden panels or a false back. But it was seamless. “That’s it.”

Cara flicked open a few of the binders, barely glancing at them before flicking another open.

Reading upside-down was never a talent of mine.

These were legal documents, therefore they were a lot of words in very little space.

Undecipherable at a glance. If she searched for the deed or a Will, they were likely right there.

But I couldn’t be certain. I shifted my attention to Cara’s actions instead.

She shuffled through the stacks quickly.

And summarily dismissed each binder. She was after something else.

Cara flipped the last book on the pile shut. “Where’s the other safe?”

I wanted to play dumb. But she turned the gun on Zoe. “I know he has a second safe.”

Shit . Of course she knew about it. She’d survived at least sixteen years around Shock and my father.

That was more than enough time to hear the rumors about Dad’s treasure trove.

It wasn’t gold or money or even property deeds.

It was information. That’s the main reason he and Shock gravitated toward each other.

They were both snakes who’d sell out their own flesh and blood to gain leverage on someone.

“It’s upstairs.”

Her brow furrowed. “In the bedroom? I’ve checked everywhere for it.”

I shook my head, sick to my stomach. “My bedroom.” I’d asked for it when we moved in here. So I could be like dear old Dad.

Her jaw dropped. “No wonder I couldn’t find it.” She motioned with the end of the gun. “Show me.”

I led her up the stairs and to the right. The hall carpet was new.

My room, however, wasn’t.

It was still puke pink with scarred patches where the tape from my posters tore the surface color away.

The holes revealed the light yellow paint that the wall had been originally.

The room was hollow and smelled like old nightmares.

My bed and furniture were gone, but the white carpet reminded me of that night.

There was a stain just there where I’d scrubbed at my own blood to erase the awful events these walls had witnessed.

Unbidden, memories resurfaced of that night. Not the pain, nor the humiliation, but the aftermath. Shock smiled as he buckled his belt. His club leered at my bare ass and legs.

It was horrific to realize they took as much delight in the sight of blood that trickled down and stained the carpet as my exposed flesh.

I ran into my bathroom and grabbed a washcloth.

Wetted it with cold water, ran back to the carpet, and scrubbed.

Then found another drop, scrubbed there, leaving a trail of smeared, browning pink from the bed to the bathroom and back as it finally sunk in.

I should take care of myself before trying to clean the damn carpet.

By that point, his men were laughing and joking as they tore down the posters on my wall.

They picked up the dresser, clothes and all, knocking my collected nicknacks off and crushing them under their heavy boots.

My bed was dismantled and taken away as I grabbed the first thing I could from my closet to cover my legs. It was a skirt that was a dumb distressed denim I’d been fond of…before. But it was too short.

Shock commented on how it hugged my ass.

Then slapped it.

He uttered four words I learned to hate over the next few months. “That ass is mine.” Worse were the nine words that usually followed his declaration, “and I can do whatever I want with it.”

I swallowed down the vomit that threatened to stain my carpet.

Not my carpet, I reminded myself. My father’s. Cara’s now. Not mine. Never mine. Not even my ass was mine.

Zoe made a noise. Just a faint questioning note that broke my fugue.

She was mine. And, more importantly, she was untainted by all this.

And I intended to keep her that way. If it meant handing over the collected refuse Dad dug up on his enemies, so be it.

Cara could deal with the filth. I wanted nothing to do with it.

I opened the closet and pulled at the panel in the corner.

Under the fake wall was a metal door, very similar to the one in the study. But the lock was different. I tapped on the numbers in sequence. My birthday, Dad told me. I stored my childhood drawings, my diary, and music sheets in there.

Then one day, Dad asked to store some of his papers there. No, demanded. With that demand, he tacked on another one—that I wasn’t to let anyone know the safe or its contents were here. Nor should I peek inside.

But I had. You can’t leave something curious in a teenager’s bedroom and not expect them to look.

At the time, I learned more than I ever wanted to know about the local judge. It was too early of an age to lose faith in law enforcement, making me ripe pickings for someone like Shock. I burned my diary the same day, along with some of the respect I had for my father. I should have run then.

The door opened easily for something so old.

From the piles of papers in there, Dad used it often after I was gone. I glanced at the carpet stains, wondering if maybe, just maybe, he felt guilt every time he came into this room. I hoped so. He deserved it. I pulled out the first stack. There were photos mixed in with the papers.

My hands shook. “Zoe, please stand by the door.” I didn’t want her to see any of this.

I handed it to Cara who rifled through the pile and searched for the elusive “house” paperwork she had lied to me about.

The second grab was much more interesting.

I checked to see if Zoe was watching or not.

Some of the same photos I’d seen in Shock’s package were in this one.

Jackson featured prominently in most. There were a few more with Nonno in them.

Having just met the man, he’d made an impression.

I had a hunch we were getting closer to Cara’s goal.

“Here. Anything in there that you need?” My question was pointed, and my words were sharper than intended.

She studied a photo of Jackson, turning it sideways to get a different angle on it.

I had the overwhelming urge to scream, “Mine,” and rip it from her hands, but one glance at the large, rectangular spot where the carpet was more pristine white than the other sections of the floor made me stuff that desire back down.

He wasn’t anyone’s. Most certainly not mine.

And Cara now held the photos to prove it.

Cara pulled out another photo. Nonno. She stuffed it under her shirt.

I tugged out the next stack. The safe was larger than the one in the office, and it was filled to the brim.

With each layer, I noticed a pattern. The targets weren’t Dad’s political or career rivals; they were bikers and dealers.

Criminals, politicians, law enforcement, even business leaders.

Many of the photos were taken in this house.

Probably from parties Dad threw. The ones that weren’t bothered me.

My father wouldn’t be able to get into some of these places. But Shock definitely could.

One particular photo made me pause. It was Dad in his office, shaking hands with a man.

He was wearing the same tie as the one in the crime scene photo.

If he was killed after this photo was taken, why was it here?

I handed that folder off to Cara.

Under it was a crime report for a missing person. Then, a news clipping of a Jane Doe who washed up along the river. Accompanying it was a photo of the same girl with Shock.

A hand-written suicide note… I slapped that file shut and passed it to Cara.

She smiled when she opened it. “Got him.”

I dug out the rest of the stacks without looking at any of them. Cara sent Zoe for a suitcase from the main bedroom, describing exactly where it was. Zoe returned and helped load the documents into the bag.

“Are there any other places your dad stored stuff?”

“His office downtown.”

Cara shook her head. “They went through that.”

“They, who ?”

She swallowed. “His coworkers. Those blood-sucking, lawyer assholes. Cut me out of the Will. And there’s no life insurance policy. Except this.” She patted her shirt and smiled.

From what I’d already seen of Nonno, he wasn’t a man to be messed with. Worse, now that she had what she wanted, I was deathly afraid she would kill us as easily as she killed Tina.

“I want you to take everything.” I indicated the suitcase, now crammed with over sixteen years of blackmail.

Cara’s glee evaporated.

“Are you sure?” Her tone was suspicious. “You don’t want anything ?”

I only wanted one thing. “I want to get out of here with Zoe. That’s all.” I looked around the room, at the stains, the dismantled carpet, and everything else. “Take everything. I hate this place, my father, and everything attached to this town. I want none of it.”

“Everything?”

“From the basement to the roof. It’s all behind me now.” That included Cara, but she didn’t need to know that part.

“You know your father wasn’t a bad man.”

My snort of denial stopped cold in my throat. The rumble of motorcycles drifted through the walls. “Do you hear that?”

Cara’s eyes went round. “How did someone find us? I got rid of your trackers. I got rid of Shock’s trackers!”

Zoe’s mouth tightened. I knew that look.

She had a secret. One I didn’t want to know.

Because if I did, I’d give her away. “We need to leave.” There was a path through the sloping hill behind the house.

It was dark and multiple years since I’d used it.

There was no guarantee it was even the same. But I’d risk it for Zoe.

“Not without my things.” Cara pointed the gun at me. “Zoe, grab that bank bag from the office downstairs. Your mom’s going to carry the suitcase. But I’ll have my gun on her, so no funny business. Hurry.”

Zoe fled down the stairs. I followed at a slightly more sedate pace, hampered by the heavy suitcase, and not wanting to test Cara’s aim.

But we were too late.

Shock strode in the front door like he owned the place.