Page 54 of Free to Judge (Amaryllis Heritage #2)

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

The dark tulle of my gown is shredded from the damp warehouse floor I was tossed onto before the brutes dragged me into one of the two chairs and zip-tied me in place.

I twist and turn, trying to find some give.

Fortunately, the voluminous skirts of my dress are able to shift even as they absorb the blood I’ve shed within the layers.

Somewhere in my less than delicate transport, I’ve lost my heels.

Besides that, I do a quick assessment. My worst injuries appear to be my ribs from when I was kicked in the van, a split lip, and an eye nearly swollen shut from the fist to the socket.

“The real question is are they bruised or cracked?” I try to breathe as deeply as I can without causing further injury. If they’re cracked, I don’t want to puncture a lung. The pain is agonizing, but I can breathe, so that’s a good sign.

Keep breathing, Kalie. It will not only help you keep calm but avoid crying.

Meanwhile, do what Dad would have you do. Assess the situation.

Two of the three men who’d taken me pace back and forth. One sits across from me in a ladder-back chair. Cigarette smoke curls in the air above his head, mixing with dust and rot and motor oil.

“She’s tougher than she looks,” one of them mutters, wiping blood from his knuckles.

I glare at him. He’s the one who threw the punch at my eye. “I hope it hurts, asshole.”

“Enjoy that smart mouth for now,” the seated one replies, voice lazy. “The boss hasn’t got here yet.”

My senses sharpen. The boss? Who’s that?

The metal doors groan as they open.

There’s a hitch in the footsteps, telling me it’s not someone who is intending to rescue me from this hellhole. Instead, the thump and drag echoes. Sharp. Deliberate. There’s no pop-pop of automatic gunfire. No shouted orders.

Just one man approaching, as if the whole world belongs to him.

I lift my head up, despite its pounding, and wish I hadn’t when the man steps just inside the circle of light.

He’s much older than the others. Tall. Straight-backed, despite the cane in his hand.

Expensive coat. Irish wool. His silver hair is combed back from a face that is all too familiar.

I should recognize it, as I’ve seen it every day of my life.

Had this version of it not been etched with a lifetime of bad decisions and hard living, he’d be just as handsome as the son he sired and abandoned.

But by his own choices, my biological grandfather will never be half the man my father is.

He peruses me in much the same manner. It doesn’t freak me out until he smiles. “My God. I always thought you were the spitting image of my baby girl, my Riley.”

I shudder hearing that name out of this man’s mouth. It’s the birth name of my Aunt Cassidy. And hearing it from her birth father’s mouth is like another full punch to the ribs. “Don’t you mean Cassidy?” I sneer.

He spits on the floor. “I dare you to call her that again.”

I keep my focus on breathing evenly. “Want to formally introduce yourself?”

“You know damn well who I am, lass.”

“Oh, I know, grandfather. I was trying to be polite.”

His smile deepens. “Such exquisite manners, young Katherine. We never truly had a chance to bond as family, did we?”

“Having me kidnapped and beaten doesn’t exactly scream ‘Grandpa’s looking for some long-lost cuddles.’” Then again, this isn’t your everyday family reunion.

“Blame that bastard who sired you. He tried to erase my very existence.” He shuffles closer, letting the shadows fall behind him. “I’m your grandfather, Jack Marshall.”

I hope my acting skills are up to par. It might buy me some time as I pray someone realizes I was taken. I flinch back as far as I can against the chair I’m bound to. “You’re supposedly dead. My father said so years ago.”

“I disappeared,” he corrects, voice sharp. “Walked away from a worthless family. Found one that knows the value of loyalty.”

I snarl, “You mean you abandoned your daughter to monsters. You let your son live with that agony.”

He tilts his head, eyes glittering down at me. “Yet here you are. His child. He survived.”

I jerk up my chin. “He did. Better without you in our lives.”

My already bruised face receives brutal treatment from his punishing fingers as he slaps me across the cheek. “Watch your tone. You’re worth more to me alive than dead—for now.”

I don’t say another word. He takes my silence as acceptance of his edict. Then a raw cackle escapes his withered throat. “Look at ye, lass. I just made you your father’s biggest failure instead of his star.”

My heart aches knowing he’s probably right.

Still, I don’t speak. Jack boasts, “For me, you’re a prize I’ll always cherish.

I should take a picture and send it to him, showing his perfect princess at my mercy.

Brought straight to me by real men—not that pansy I beget.

No, instead, you’re mine by men I trained myself. ”

My breath catches. “This is insane.”

“I watched you grow up, you know. From a distance.” Jack kicks the back of the chair across from me, forcing one of my kidnappers to scramble to his feet.

He lowers himself down across from me like we’re two people settling in for a long chat.

“Didn’t dare get close. Suspect that mother of yours would’ve set me on fire with her bare hands.

Wonder if she hates me more than she loves your father. ”

“Perhaps because her sister was sold to human traffickers? Ring a bell?”

His smile disappears. “They told you about that?”

It’s with quiet pride I inform him, “My parents don’t hide our family legacy.

They told us everything about who we were and why we should be proud of who we became as a family.

” Never before had I ever felt such pride in being Katherine Laura Marshall than I did in this moment when I stared into the face of the man who set off the explosion that tried to destroy my family legacy.

He failed then. I just prayed he’d fail tonight as well.

He’s quiet for a long moment. “I did what I needed to do to prove my loyalty to the Byrnes.”

“And Uncle Caleb’s mother,” I taunt, reminding him of the story of the affair between him and my Uncle Caleb’s mother—another winner in our family tree.

He dismisses Mildred Lockwood with a flick of his hand. “She was an easy lay who had the right connections. I used her to gain an introduction to the Byrnes.”

“That isn’t how she remembers it,” recalling what my father told me about the years of pain he endured when Aunt Cassidy went missing.

“It’s the truth.” His eyes take on a distant focus before sharpening back on me. “You know, there was a reason I had you brought here.”

“It wasn’t because you thought I needed some facial work done? I’m touched.”

His eyes scour my face. “My boys get a bit too enthusiastic with their work. I told them to leave you intact, if that helps.”

“Am I supposed to be grateful?”

He lurches forward, causing me to rear back. “You could have had the same treatment as your aunt.”

Thinking of the way Aunt Cassidy was brutalized as a young girl, I find myself eternally grateful, though I’ll never admit it aloud.

He doesn’t seem to care much as he continues on in his half dreamlike, wholly unbalanced state.

“Did ye know there was once a time when the Marshalls ruled half the docks in New York?”

“No.”

“That kind of legacy doesn’t last on sentiment. I wanted to restore us to that glory. The Byrnes needed proof that I'd do anything.”

“And their price…” I can’t bring myself to say the sentence.

“Was Riley.” He shrugs his shoulders as if selling his daughter off was a simple business transaction.

“She was your daughter!” I shout. I hate giving him my tears, but I can’t restrain them.

“Look at the life she now leads. Listen to me, lass. I coulda taken her out at any time over the years. Since she survived her little ordeal, I spared her in the end.”

I’m revolted. “You’re disgusting.”

He chuckles low in his throat. “You’re just like Riley. All fire. All judgment.” He leans forward on the cane. “But I never stopped watching you from the time you were a little girl.”

That sends shivers up my spine.

“Look at the life you lead because I left you alone—Harvard Law. The Olympics. I’m impressed.”

“Don’t say that like you hold any true affection for me.”

“I thought about taking you,” he says, ignoring my fury. “Back when you were Riley’s age.”

I still at the implication. “What?”

He gives me a cold smile. “You were valuable, even back then. Pretty. Smart. Determined. All things that make a girl desirable in our world. Fragile. Breakable.”

Bile rises in my throat. “You sick bastard.”

“I didn’t take you,” he snaps, voice hardening. “That has to count for something.”

“Not much.”

He stands, placing weight on his cane as he paces slowly.

“What do you want from me?” I finally work up the nerve to ask.

“Closure,” he says simply. “You were going to be left alone. I’d negotiated it—until you stirred things up. Acting like your feckin’ mother. Falling for that…gobshite who works for your old man.”

My eyes snap to his, unable to hide my horror. He knows who Declan really is.

“Yeah,” he says darkly. “I know all about Declan Conian. Thought he was clever. Thought no one would give a flying fig about the FBI agent turning to defense attorney for us less than savory types. I sat back. Watched. Waited. Decided to see how he’d handle our business.

” He strokes his chin. “Let’s just say his work was… deliberate. Methodical.”

“I’m asking purely as a lawyer. That’s a bad thing?”

“No. Not always. I was just about comfortable with him until you blew up his house of cards.”

I refuse to let my expression give this monster any more satisfaction. Then Jack—I refuse to acknowledge him as my grandfather—informs me, “My bet? He’s gonna come here to save you. But he doesn’t know what he’s walking into.”

I try to play off my hope. “Why would he bother? He used me. We’re done.”

His eyes narrow as if he’s miscalculated something. “Well, if he doesn’t, that doesn’t bode well for your chances.”

“I don’t matter in the grand scheme of things.”

He grins, showing off perfectly capped teeth. “Good to see ya know your place, lass.”

“Besides, in a fair fight, Declan’s stronger than you.”

“Who said anythin’ about it being fair?” He leans forward as if he’s about to tell me the secret to the universe. “’Sides, he ain’t nothing without you.”

While I’d have loved hearing that even a few weeks ago, all it does is make my breathing heavier. “Maybe, maybe not. Either way, the jury concludes the same thing at the end of the day.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“You’re a murderer, aren’t you, Jack? A coward. You couldn’t even face the FBI after killing one of their agents.” Say it. Say it, I urge him.

Jack turns, lips thin. “So, you figured that out?”

I shrug. “Wasn’t hard. Declan mentioned you enjoy using knives. I’m surprised he hasn’t.”

He applauds slowly. “No one put the two together until now. I had to get rid of Tanya, though I let the boys have fun with her body before I sent it back through Uncle Sam’s own postal service.”

I never thought I’d appreciate the cold air in the warehouse, but if it were any warmer, I’d be puking over my grandfather’s confession. Then, soft as a whisper, he says, “You remind me of her—Tanya.”

I don’t respond.

“The last time I saw her, she was hoping Declan would rescue her too. And here you are—doing the same, I bet.”

I force myself to look at him. “She didn’t survive you. I will. When I do, I’ll enjoy testifying at your trial. Then, after I put you away, I’ll have another thing in common with my Aunt Cassidy. I’ll have survived you.”

“Oh, if only you’re alive to claim that win, lass.”

A heavy beat passes. Then he admits, “I wasn’t going to hurt you, you know. I planned to let you live your life.”

“What changed your mind?”

“I decided you would be the one to teach them all about loyalty.”

I laugh so hard at the irony that this bastard is going to teach the most loyal people in the world something he has no concept of that I don’t see the blow coming.

My face whips to the side when he backhands me a second time.

He huffs, “See, Katherine, you strike out at one of ours, we strike back. Even if he is a gobshite.”

“Here you are getting all worked up when you don’t consider Declan yours? How does loyalty work for you, Jack?” I counter after spitting out a mouthful of blood.

His eyes dilate wildly as he sputters for an answer. “If you’d just accepted your place, you could have gone on with no repercussions. But that day, you struck out at the Byrnes when you lost your marbles in public.” He thumps his chest. “My family.”

“Ah, so it wasn’t that I struck Declan, per se. It was your people who were humiliated.”

He’s pleased I appear to grasp what he’s saying. “Exactly.”

I nod before declaring, “It’s official. You’re unhinged.”

I’m not ready for the blow to my already bruised ribs from his cane. He swings it around wildly, narrowly missing my head with a lethal shot. “I am not crazy!”

After he regains the narrow grasp he has on control, he leans against a nearby pillar, breath heaving before shouting, “See what you made me do?”

I can’t prevent the wheezing from the renewed pain nor the tears streaming down my face forced out by agony. It takes everything in me to gasp. “Made you do?”

“Tough love, lass.”

“Is—” I gasp. “Is…this how you raised my dad?”

His eyes water in some fucked up sense of love I hope my father never witnesses. “No. I love—loved—my son. It must have been Laura who turned him against me before she died.”

I declare flatly, “You mean before she was murdered.”

He whispers sinisterly, “What?”

“Mildred Lockwood admitted to murdering her. My father blames you for ruining his mother, for abandoning him, but not for her murder. He will,” I pause to try to suck in some more air, “blame you for harming his daughter. Fear that.”

Jack’s warped mind is so wrapped up in his denials of the past he doesn’t hear the small scrape of the warehouse door, but I do. I pray it’s help and not more people to drag me into the depths of darkness my family pulled themselves up from. The steel door in the back groans again.

This time, Jack hears it too.

His gaze snaps to the dark corner. For the first time, I see something in him that isn’t insanity or misplaced power. It’s something delicious—fear.

I smile, even with my face bruised and bloodied. “Calvary’s coming.”

Then, because I can’t take anymore, I let the darkness consume me.