Page 32 of Hell of a Mess

Twenty-Eight

Luther

“How original,” I muttered as the hidden door behind a bookshelf in the library opened when Bane pulled out the correct book.

“The fact that the spine is red and is titled Dalia doesn’t give it away at all.” Bane’s tone was laced with sarcasm.

Not waiting for him, I stepped into a short hallway with low lighting. There was one door at the end, and it was already open. Locke stood just inside with his arms crossed over his chest. His gaze swung to meet mine, and the reality of what we’d found was etched in his grim expression.

After reading from the notebook I carried under my arm, I was more prepared for what I was going to see than they had been when they found her.

The pieces had all fallen into place for me now.

Except for one thing: why? If Halsten hated Lace so much, then why make her pose as her sister? What was the point?

The bedroom was one fit for a princess. I was sure it would be any little girl’s dream room. Dolls lined the wall. A huge-ass dollhouse, which looked like a replica of the house we were in, stood open with working lights and a tiny fucking water fountain outside with real running water.

When I was fully inside, my gaze went to where Locke was looking to see a woman lying in a frilly white-and-pink bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.

She was frail and looked older than Lace, not younger.

But that most likely had to do with the unhealthy pallor of her skin.

It was hard to see any similarities between the two sisters.

Where Lace shone so brightly that she made it impossible to look away from her, this one was a shell. Nothing more than a body, it seemed.

“What do you think happened to her?” Locke asked in a raspy, low voice.

I shrugged. “Not sure. But I don’t think it was an accident.”

One of the notes Lace had written to her deceased mother talked about Dalia scaring her. The “fit” she’d also mentioned Dalia having after the horse became nervous around her led me to believe that this was connected to a mental illness.

“What would cause this though, if not a head injury?” Bane asked.

I wasn’t a fucking doctor. But I was going to do some research. No one was asking Lace about this. I wouldn’t allow it. She’d lived in this darkness, been abused, neglected, and forced to take care of her comatose sister when she wasn’t pretending to be her.

“We’ve seen enough,” I said, turning to leave the room and get the hell out of this house.

“There’s a nurse through that door. She’s sleeping heavily, but that is probably due to the empty bottle of gin beside her bed,” Locke informed me.

“So, someone else does know about Dalia’s existence.” I turned to look at him as I said the words.

He nodded.

Good. That was a plus.

“Can we ID her?” I asked, thinking we might need to go get a picture and a hair sample.

“I took photos of each angle of her face, the bedroom, and Dalia and also grabbed her brush,” Bane replied.

“Text Oz, and let’s go,” I told him, not looking back.

Seeing that room with the woman in it and knowing that Lace had either been forced to sleep in a fucking basement or take care of her sister all day was eating me alive. I wasn’t sure there was a torture I could do to Halsten to ease the fury clawing inside me.

“What’s in the notebook?” Locke asked from behind me.

Before anyone else could touch it, I rolled it up and held it tightly in my hand.

“It’s mine,” I said, speeding up my pace.

“You didn’t bring a notebook,” Bane pointed out like a nosy bastard.

“But I’m leaving with one.” My answer was closer to a snarl than speaking.

Neither of them asked again. But I knew it would be brought up. I’d have to answer eventually.

The sun had just started to rise when I walked into the house.

I’d only been gone for four days, but, damn, it felt longer.

The flight back here, all I could think about was checking on Lace.

Seeing her sleep. Reassuring myself that she was safe and warm.

The reminder that I had her, that I could protect her, was the only thing that kept me sane.

It had been a good thing I couldn’t read any more from the notebook on our trip back.

The others would have seen it and started asking about it again.

I wasn’t sure how much more I could take.

Easing myself with the sight of Lace would help. I took the stairs two at a time, not wanting to waste a second. The rest of the house would be awake in a couple of hours, and I’d have to be in Linc’s office with the others to decide our next step. Until then, I needed to be near her.

Fuck, I needed to hold her. Touch her. Reassure the beast raging inside me that she was okay. She wasn’t going to be sent to a cold, dank basement again. And because I liked the way she felt in my arms. I fucking loved how she smelled and curled against me.

She needed me, and I reveled in it. But I was realizing I needed her too. Maybe more.

When I reached her bedroom, I started to turn the doorknob and stopped.

Looking down at the notebook in my hand, I knew I didn’t want her to see that.

It would upset her and bring back shit I wanted her to forget.

I stalked over to my room and tossed it onto the dresser before returning to her door.

I quietly eased it open; anticipation made me want to swing it wide and go barreling in, but I refrained.

She needed her rest. Fuck knew she’d had little of it in her life.

My gaze sought her the second I stepped inside, but the empty, neatly made bed caused me to pause.

A coldness began to seep through my veins as my eyes scanned the room.

It had been cleaned. Nothing of Lace’s was in here.

No sign of her at all. Even the last book I had left her was gone from the nightstand.

Desperation warred with violence as my breathing grew fast and heavy.

With long strides, I went to the en suite and found it cleaned with fresh towels and not one detail that said Lace had bathed or showered.

I did the same with the closet. Empty hangers were stacked neatly against the wall.

As I backed out of the closet slowly, the violence was winning, fueled by panic.

If that was what this was. I’d never been panicked in my fucking life.

But right now, I could hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears, and I was struggling with shortness of breath.

I also wanted to bash in walls and leave a path of destruction on my way to find her.

Lace belonged here. In this room. Close to me.

“She’s at Mal’s.” Linc’s voice was as unwelcome as his words.

I spun around and leveled my wrath on him.

“She called him, Luther. She asked him to come get her. Don’t attempt to kill me because I’ll put you on your knees even if I don’t want to.”

She called him?

Those three words slammed into me, and I had to gasp to catch a breath.

Why had she called him? It was me she needed. ME!

“Why?” I asked, my own voice sounding foreign to me. Just like the onslaught of emotions I had no fucking idea how to endure.

“She felt that it was time to get to know her family. This is a good thing. For everyone.”

No, it wasn’t. Not for me.

Unable to stand in here and listen to his bullshit while her room was void of any piece of her, I stalked past him and into the hallway, not stopping as I slammed open my door and went inside.

“I expected you’d be unhappy about it, but I didn’t think you’d react this way.”

Why was he still here? I swung my gaze over to see him standing in my doorway.

“Go.”

He sighed. “Jesus, Luther. Do you have…feelings for her?” He asked the question as if he couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth.

Why? Because I wasn’t supposed to have any fucking feelings? Well, I hadn’t before her. But I sure as shit had them now. My skin felt too goddamn tight. Oxygen was limited.

“I said, go,” I growled.

I stalked to the bathroom and slammed the door, blocking him and anything else he might say out. I didn’t need that right now.

Not when I felt like my…my…my what? Why did I feel like this?

Because you need her.

But she left you. She doesn’t need you. No one ever fucking needs you.

I stared at myself in the mirror. My fists curled tightly at my sides.

I’d been fine, not being needed. My life had been fucking perfect.

Until she’d blown it open and changed everything.

As I pounded my fist on the hard marble countertop, the beast inside me let out a roar of fury while my eyes burned and began to glisten in my reflection.

What the actual fuck had she done to me?