CHAPTER 20

Z ach

“You should never have been born. You’re a monstrosity, a danger to society. I don’t know why the fuck we allowed you into this house. Tell me you know you’re a disgusting piece of shit. Tell me.”

“I’m a disgusting piece of shit,” I repeated dutifully. I knew better than to fight the man or talk back. The beatings only got worse. Once, I’d dare raise my hand to the man only to have him break two fingers.

And he’d been laughing.

He paced the floor, swinging the bat back and forth. “I’ve tried and tried with you. I’ve given you a roof over your head, food in your stomach, and sent you to school. And you defy me. Constantly. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

I took a deep breath, eyeing the bat. He’d taken to using something other than his belt. A metal bar. A piece of firewood. Whatever he could get his hands on. Then he’d brought a bat home. When he swung it again, I noticed the dark stain. Blood.

My blood.

I cringed in the shadows, hoping he’d just leave. I just wanted to read. I wouldn’t make a sound. Maybe if I swore it to him, he’d forgive me for whatever sins I’d committed. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” He laughed as he turned in my direction. “You are fucking pathetic. I can’t have a worthless piece of scum living in my house. Stand up, boy. Stand up and take it like a man.”

My legs were shaking, but I did as I was told, rising to a standing position. I was almost taller than him now.

He eyed me warily and laughed for a second time. “Scum.”

Something inside me snapped the moment he swung the bat. I couldn’t take it any longer. A full year of abuse. A full year of torment. Of being called hateful names. Being forced to eat scraps. No one cared. Not my teachers. Not the principal. No one.

I lunged forward, feeling free for the first time in my life. When I grabbed the bat from his hand, he was shocked, stumbling backward.

“You give me that bat. Right now. Do you hear me?”

I took a deep breath, slowly lowering my head so I could stare at the stain. Then I decided to give it to him.

As I brought it down, I heard a loud crack. So I did it again.

And again.

And again.

I fisted my hand, taking several deep breaths. The images and memories were coming too fast and far too often. After a few deep breaths, the man’s face and the stench of blood faded. I was in my office. I wasn’t caged in a basement. I was alive.

I was thriving.

Get your shit together.

As the cobwebs lifted, I slammed my fist on the desk. I refused to be controlled by horrible dreams. That wasn’t allowed.

The warehouse club.

Brant’s club.

The name was Dark Delights. The tagline for his marketing?

Where sin and shame collide.

Catchy, if not trendy as fuck.

Since I wasn’t a man who believed in coincidences, the fact the lovely Sara had a flyer on her desk raised my hackles.

Whether my wild kitty had discovered the club herself or had plans of attending with a friend, my instincts told me she had plans on visiting the warehouse in the next few days. I would certainly want to be there when she did.

Brant owed me one. I’d make certain if her name appeared on the guest list I would be told immediately. It would be the perfect time to add additional elements to the training regimen I had in mind.

A quick knock on my office door was followed with an intrusion.

I glared at Walker as he strode inside, pushing the door shut with practiced flair after he did.

“If you continue to show up at places you shouldn’t, I’m going to begin thinking you’re stalking me. Do you have any idea what I do with assholes who think they’re going to get one leg up on me?”

“I’ll guess you cut that leg off.” Walker had simply arrived at my office without an appointment, now sliding into the same chair I’d been sitting in the night before when I’d discovered my wild kitty hiding under my desk.

“You’re exactly right.” I leaned back in my chair, folding my arms behind my head. “Make it quick.”

“I was in the area. Sue me. I found something you might find of interest.” He pulled a file from his oversized leather jacket. That hadn’t created vibes when he’d walked into the office. He wasn’t the kind of man to care about protocol or expectations.

I grabbed it and sat back once again before opening it. I flipped the three pages twice before lifting my head in his direction. “What exactly am I looking at here?”

“Take another look.” He was far too busy glancing around my office. The guy was annoying as fuck.

“Okay, who the fuck are Jeffrey and Jenny Thompkins?”

“Well, first off, they’re dead. They have been for about ten years.”

“And that means exactly what to me?” They appeared as a nice-looking couple, maybe late forties, early fifties. They were nicely dressed, smiling for the cameras. It appeared as a studio type shot, the kind families did years before.

“For starters, it appears they were killed in a hit.”

“A hit. They were assassinated?”

“Yep.” He popped the p and I was even more annoyed than before.

I leaned forward, tossing the file back in his direction. “If this has a point, get to it or get out.”

He sat up as well, giving me a hard look. “I tried to weed through the bullshit, but when you’re dealing with WITSEC, even I can’t get very far.”

“Witness protection.” I grabbed the information again, looking hard at the photographs. Suddenly, there was some recognition in the woman’s eyes. They were the same color, a lovely violet. “Sara Capshaw’s parents.”

“Bingo. Finally. From what little I could piece together, the husband was the accountant of some criminal group. I don’t know who and I’m not certain it matters, but his testimony led to the arrest of four prominent members. I don’t know if they’re dead or alive.”

“But they were pissed.”

“Yep. Somehow, the Capshaws were found living under their new names. Their car exploded right in front of their house in the new state where they’d been living for almost a year.”

“And the kids?”

“All I know is that if there was no mention of the girl you like or any other kid for that matter. My guess is they were shielded and given a chance at surviving, but WITSEC isn’t hip to keeping a deal made with anyone who can’t help them out. Get it?”

“Oh, yeah. I get it. Sara and her brother were left to fend on their own.”

Walker nodded. “That’s why she’d laid low with no social media. I wish I could tell you more, but if I dig, I’ll have the US Marshals breathing down my neck. Not good for business.”

My thoughts drifted to Jerry and his work with the justice department. Was that the reason he’d been all over Sara?

I slid the file back in my direction. “It’s possible they want her dead.”

“Sure, but why? Ten years is a long time for additional revenge even for bad dudes like the mob.”

“Unless she has something that belongs to them.”

He lifted his eyebrows. “You sure you want to get tangled up in shit like that?”

I couldn’t help but smile. “You obviously have no clue what I’m capable of.”

“I beg to differ. I was there when you took your time with that guy a few years ago. Remember? I didn’t know you had it in you until that day. Kinda learned from your technique.”

“Yeah, well, the jerk deserved it.” I’d used Walker to find the last remaining living asshole who’d tormented me growing up. The guy obviously hadn’t been happy to see me. I’d thought that part of my life was over, all my desires for revenge and bloodshed ending with that final act of retaliation.

Now I knew I’d been wrong.

I still had dark, demented urges.

“I doubt you can find anything else unless you want to tangle with the US Marshals’ service. They’re tough.”

As if I cared. “And her car being tampered with? A pattern you’ve seen before?”

“Honestly, maybe. Yes. No. Who the fuck knows. I think it was a crime of opportunity because the damage done was messy.”

Just like crime syndicates. The Blackwell brothers had experienced our share of run-ins with a couple of mafia organizations who’d become determined to get involved with the lucrative gaming business. We’d made certain they understood just how brutal the profession could be.

What if the justice department believed she had some knowledge about the crime syndicate? What if she did?

“You can leave now and unless I specifically request it, don’t return to my office again.”

Walker remained where he was. I’ll be damned if he didn’t have a sheepish look on his face.

“What is it, Walker?”

“Well, you might be pissed, but I figured you’d tell me the information on Ms. Capshaw was light and wouldn’t square my debt.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning,” he hesitated, glancing over his shoulder at my closed office door. “I saw the news broadcast.”

I stared at him and could tell I’d made him very uncomfortable.

“You know the one I’m talking about. Where the reporter spouted off some shit about your biological father.”

I instantly bristled and he threw up his hands.

“Hey, I watch television,” he continued. “You need to keep up with current events. Anyway, while I was searching shit about your girl and using my contacts, I made a few inquiries about your dad.”

I moved from being annoyed to furious and he knew it, sitting back in his seat as if that would keep him safe from my reach. “And?”

“Let me tell you, discovering anything about him was worse than sniffing around WITSEC. It took two contacts and a long night to find out the sperm donor in your life was one bad dude. I mean bad with a capital B. He made your basic serial killer look like they were playing in quicksand. He was supposedly responsible for thirty-five deaths and none of them the kind you want to talk about in mixed company.”

With no reaction on my face or in my body language, his eyes opened wide. Although I’d suspected my father had been a murderer, at minimum killing my mother, his news filled in some of the blanks. Like why the records had been tightly sealed. “Go on.” I made the statement through gritted teeth.

“Blackwell was your mother’s maiden name. She was… um. She was his last victim. From what I was told, she had some evidence after long suspecting he was the killer. Your dad must have found out. I guess the powers that be in the system changed your names so you guys wouldn’t have the stigma attached.”

For anyone to hear their father was a true monster and ended their mother’s life was devastating. Even worse. Now I knew why my brothers and I had resorted to violence over the years, thinking nothing of taking a human life.

The only difference I could see? The assholes we’d driven into extinction had deserved their fate for what they’d done not only to the foster kids, but to their families as well. As if that had snagged me a get-out-of-hell-free card. That wasn’t possible for all the atrocities I’d committed.

My brothers as well.

“Anything else?” I growled.

“Isn’t that enough? I have everything I managed to get right there and it’s sketchy, but you can put the pieces together like I did. I doubt you’ll get any further.”

“Where did they put the murdering bastard?” A cold chill settled in my system.

“The Red Onion prison facility in Wise County, Virginia. I checked there. I had to come up with a whale of a story. Anyway, supposedly, he died a couple years ago, shanked on his first day out of solitary. I guess the dude continued to remain violent.”

I eyed the man who’d provided me with decent information over the years and drummed my fingers on my desk. There was no reason my thoughts drifted to fucking on this very desk the night before. Perhaps my brain needed time to process what he’d told me. “Why supposedly?”

“Because that’s where all information stops. There’s no mention of him being buried anywhere, including in a pauper’s field or if his body was donated to science. So the trail stops cold. I kinda thought you and your brothers might want closure.”

“Closure? I don’t think we need to reopen our pasts as they weren’t particularly happy times.”

“I hear you.”

A knock on my door I didn’t need or want. “What?”

My assistant knew the tone well enough to barely stick her head inside the door. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but there’s a police detective here to see you?”

I slanted my gaze toward Walker. A bad time for him to just stop by. “Who is it and what is the reason for their visit?”

“Detective Mack Dannon and he said you’d know why.” She was gripping the edge of the door tightly enough that her knuckles were white.

Mack. What the fuck was he doing here?

“I’ll be there in a minute,” I told her.

“Yes, sir.” She closed the door and Walker bristled, immediately standing.

“Whew. A detective? Have you been on a killing spree lately?”

I was in no mood for his teasing antics at this point. “Go. I appreciate the information. I don’t need to tell you, but I will. If you mention either to anyone, you won’t need to be worried about your business any longer.”

“I do love it when you’re such a tough dude. Do you want me to slither out the back?” He laughed from seeing my face. “Just kidding. You can’t take a joke. Good luck with the detective.”

He walked out, closing the door behind him and I shifted from one file to the other. It was barely ten in the morning and already it had been one hell of a day. Why did I have a feeling it was about to move from bad to worse?

I shoved the files into my desk and got up slowly. Perhaps Mack was here for a friendly visit. Then again, why use his professional name if that was the case? I headed to the door, opening it to see Mack flirting with one of the girls.

He seemed to sense I was staring at him, finally lifting his head. I couldn’t recognize the look in his eyes. But I was convinced he was here on business. He said something else to the girl and sauntered in my direction. At least the cops in this town knew how to dress in a suit that didn’t come from a cheap chain.

“What an interesting surprise,” I told him as I allowed him inside.

“Hey, I wanted to see how the rich and famous live and work. Since I had a feeling you’d never invite me to that castle you live in, I came here.” Mack was his typical jovial self, but I sensed an almost immediate tension between us.

“Well, then welcome to my humble office.” I immediately returned to my chair, sitting down and staring at him as he walked the entire room, scoping out my art, the books in the bookcases, the music CDs I stored here as well.

“Not so humble. Nice place.”

“Thanks, Mack, but why don’t we cut to the chase. Why are you here?”

He threw a look in my direction, laughing when he did. His gait was the same as I’d remembered, another highlight of how cocky he’d always been. He slid into the seat where Walker had been, staring at me with the kind of intensity I wasn’t used to.

Most men couldn’t hold eye contact. Women preferred scanning the rest of my physique. Mack had something on his mind.

“For the sake of our friendship, I won’t beat around the bush. Do you know a man by the name of Jerry Offsinger?”

I chuckled and planted a smile on my face. “He’s an interesting character who thinks his shit doesn’t stink. He and I had words the other night when he accosted a waitress at the club. You were there.”

“Yeah, I was there. However, I left pretty early. I understand you were hanging around.”

“I did. Until closing.”

He sighed. “Did you have another discussion with him?”

“Why are you asking?”

“Well, I’m asking because Jerry filed a complaint. Assault. He had the bruises to prove it too.”

Leave it to the pinhead to try to use the law against me. How many sons of bitches had done that over the years? “Mack, you and I both know there are times when discussions have no effect. He refused to leave Ms. Capshaw alone. I found him in the parking lot in the process of sexually assaulting her. That led to me asking him to stop. He laughed. Things got heated. He threw a couple of punches, but I’m a better fighter. He left. End of story.”

“It would be except he’s dead.” He made the statement in such a way that he was waiting for my reaction. Any reaction.

“Are you insinuating the punches I delivered killed the man?”

He took a few seconds before answering. “He was killed in a traffic accident.”

“O-kay. Now, I’m confused. Since when do detectives become involved in traffic accidents?”

“Since when the victim sent an email warning the department if he ended up dead, to look your way.”

I choked, then burst into laughter. False laughter. “You’re kidding me. He sent an email? Are you sure it came from him?”

“Positive it came from his computer, yes. I’m going to need to know your whereabouts on the day he died.”

“I’ll be happy to supply whatever you need, Mack, but I do live alone. I don’t have a housekeeper and rarely go out after I get home.”

“Oh, he was killed in broad daylight. Funny how the two witnesses have suddenly disappeared.”

“So I took them out as well. Come on. I’m a businessman.”

“What do you drive?”

“Am I under arrest? Should I contact my attorney?”

Mack sighed and sat back. I could sense his frustration. “No, you’re not under arrest. But there are some suspicions inside the precinct, which is why I volunteered to take the case. Just do me a favor and tell me what you drive.”

“Sure. I own a black Charger, older model and a new black Corvette. I also own a motorcycle, a Harley, but I haven’t driven it lately. You can come check my garage to see if there’s any damage. I wouldn’t have had time to repair either one.”

“You don’t have access to a Humvee?”

Mack was losing traction. Perhaps he was trying to squelch whoever was pushing for a crazy indictment.

“I do not. I don’t know anyone who owns one either, including my two brothers.”

He nodded several times. “Well, as long as you can confirm where you were two days ago around four in the afternoon, then I think we’re good.”

I checked my calendar and shrugged. “I was right here. Plenty of staff who will corroborate the truth.”

“That’s good to hear.” He stood and took another look around the office. “I think we’re done here. I appreciate your time. Now, on another note. Why don’t we try and catch up in a few days? Grab a beer or two? My treat.”

“I’d like that.” I pulled out a card from my desk, scribbling my personal cell phone on the back. “Here you go. Call me about when you’re thinking of getting together and I’ll see if I can take the time.”

He did the same thing, offering me his card. “I admit I work constant hours, but you can call my personal cell phone any time. I’d love to catch up.”

“Yeah, that would be cool.”

“Good deal. Nice to see that you’re doing so well.” He hesitated as he slipped the card into his suit jacket. Even though years had passed, I knew him well enough to catch the scrutinizing look. The man believed I was lying. If I wasn’t so annoyed, I’d be amused. Now I almost wished I’d killed Jerry.

“Hard work. That’s the answer.”

He laughed as he scratched his head. “I’ll try and keep that in mind.” Winking, he headed for the door. “One last question and I’ll admit it’s pretty personal.”

“What the hell. Go for it.”

Mack at least turned back to face me. “Any truth to the crap that reporter threw out at you?”

Great. He witnessed the atrocity like at least half the city had. “I don’t know my parents, Mack. I told you that. For some reason, the records were sealed. Do I suspect my father was an asshole? You bet. I can feel that in my blood.”

I wouldn’t say the man seemed nervous, more acutely aware I was avoiding the truth. “Well, we aren’t our parents. You know?”

“No, we are not.” Although I hardly believed that. In my mind, I was my father reincarnated.

“Just be careful beating up reporters on national television.”

Fortunately, it was just local.

For now. If our enemies got ahold of the damning information, whether the truth or not, I could only imagine how they’d spin it. I was surprised there hadn’t been a single phone call from another newspaper or news broadcast.

I could swear by the way Mack was sauntering out the door, he thought he had something on me.

I turned toward the window, shoving my hands in my pockets. Maybe Jerry knew his days were numbered. If so, why accost Sara? Frustration and fear did alter a man’s personality. Sighing, I studied the traffic as everything Walker had told me replaced Mack’s accusations.

A serial killer. That just figured. I laughed bitterly and grabbed the file. This was something I couldn’t keep from my brothers. I knocked on Wilder’s door while he was in the middle of a phone call.

“What’s up?” he asked after placing his hand over his phone.

“Meet me in Xander’s office.”

He narrowed his eyes and nodded. “Two minutes.”

I didn’t respond, taking long strides toward the other end of the building where Xander’s office was located. The door was partially open, his assistant inside with him. Both were going over paperwork.

When I walked inside, the girl immediately moved to leave.

“Thanks, Carrie. Make certain Christopher checks those over,” Xander told her. He lifted his gaze toward me, a knowing smirk on his face.

Carrie smiled as she passed, instantly closing the door when she left.

“You came to tell me you’re headed out on a flight,” Xander suggested, although I heard the teasing tone on his voice.

“Hardly. I have some interesting news.”

“Then by all means.”

“We’ll wait for Wilder.”

Xander narrowed his eyes. “Should I be worried?”

“I don’t honestly know at this point.”

“That sounds ominous.”

I laughed in a tone I didn’t recognize. “While we’re waiting, let me ask you a question.”

“O-kay.” I never asked anything of either one of my brothers. We were far too independent.

“How did you know Jessica could fight the darkness?”

“What?” He acted as if he was going to choke.

“Don’t fuck with me. Just answer the question.” The woman who’d snagged his heart had seemed one of a kind. There were few who could learn about our masked sides and not only accept but embrace the darkness.

He continued to act confused before glancing out his window. “I just knew. The moment she entered my world, I had a feeling the dark side of her rivaled my own. We hit it off in the gaming chatrooms. She challenged my sense of vision. I pushed against every concept of her decency. When I realized how much she craved being hunted, I felt like some kid.” He laughed and turned his head in my direction. “I don’t know, Zach. She was the first woman who embraced all sides of me, including accepting my past. That wasn’t… normal, which attracted the hell out of me. Why are you asking?”

“I was just curious.”

“Uh-huh. Someone captured a part of that dark soul of yours.”

“I thought we established we don’t have souls,” I countered, able to grin.

Wilder strode into the office, adjusting his tie as he did. The guy always wanted to look his best, which I’d always found amusing. He stopped short when he noticed our faces.

“What did I miss?” he asked.

“Just Zach attempting to deny he has his eye on a woman. Finally.” Xander was entirely different since Jessica had bombarded his life. I could almost feel jealous of the man if he didn’t irritate the hell out of me.

“Oh, really? Is it that pretty little thing from admin?” Wilder enjoyed digging into everyone’s business.

I gave him a hard look while Xander whistled. “She has a fascinating other side,” I admitted.

“Oh, please. Let’s hear it. I never thought I’d see you acting as if you cared about anyone.” Wilder thumped down in one of Xander’s plush leather chairs, immediately crossing his legs and throwing his arms over the back.

“That’s not why I wanted to talk to the two of you.” I resisted gritting my teeth. In the beginning, the three of us had found very little in common, spending most of the first four months pretending we were normal when we were anything but. Our love of gaming had been something we could share, which had turned into various thoughts and designs, seeds planted for the current company.

At least over the years we’d learned to share space in the same room.

“What is it?” Xander frowned.

“The shit David, the reporter spouted off. It’s true.”

Wilder laughed as if I was joking. Xander appeared uncomfortable.

“You knew about our father. Didn’t you?” I threw at him.

“I suspected whatever had occurred when we were babies was an atrocity, which kept everyone so tightlipped. But I found very little other than learning our father was a criminal.”

“Yeah, I’ll say,” I added. “A serial killer sent to the Red Onion facility where he supposedly died. Although there is no record of what happened to his body.”

“Well, fuck me.” Wilder had never denied his penchant for extreme violence, but he’d also stated more than once he had no need to continue the practice. Xander had admitted much the same thing.

I’d always thought we were just damn good at lying to ourselves.

“He murdered our mother after she turned him in to the police.” Just repeating the words was more difficult than I’d thought possible. I had no memory of either one of my parents. At one year old, there shouldn’t be a single memory. Although I’d seen bits and pieces of images for as long as I could remember. My first shrinks had thought I should remember my repressed memories, or I’d eventually go nuts.

Jacob had told me exactly the opposite.

Wilder lost his tempered smile, moving to the edge of his seat. “Goddamn the bastard.”

“Yeah,” I all but whispered. I was surprised how emotional I felt about the information. I was almost forty years old. The incident happened thirty-nine years before, yet it felt as if I had a lead weight in my gut.

“That warning you received was all about our father,” Xander stated as if he knew for certain.

“Likely, which meant the reporter was tipped off just like the one in St. Louis.” Putting two and two together made perfectly good sense. While I had strong suspicions Sara was being targeted for her past as well, I didn’t see the two situations as being combined. At least for now. However, if Jerry had told anyone I’d come to her rescue, there was always a possibility the two horrific stories could be used in conjunction.

Just something else to keep me awake at night.

“We need to be ready for a media blowup.” Xander glanced from one to the other of us.

“We’ll handle it. Who knows. Maybe that will fuel another level of dark needs.” I tried to laugh, but it was getting more and more difficult. I could feel our father’s blood running through my veins. It was entirely possible monsters were bred.

“I’ll check on the reporter in St. Louis and see what I can find out,” Wilder stated.

“I guess I should check on our buddy David and see if I can sweet talk him into illuminating how he managed to get his information.” Xander threw a look in my direction, smirking when he did. “As long as he doesn’t threaten to sue us.”

“I doubt that will happen,” I mused. “At least if he believes we’re made from very bad blood.”

There was a strange silence between us, as if we were all wading in the possibilities. The what-if’s that had plagued us as children. The need to conquer and destroy, to make families of our own, no matter how twisted they might be, had never completely left any of us.

The dark, heinous needs had only been lying dormant. There wasn’t a game, virtual or real, that could quell or satisfy the beasts lurking in our cores. It wasn’t possible. We’d just not wanted to admit we were fucked for life.

“Do you remember anything about either of the two?” Wilder asked him out of the blue.

Xander didn’t react or respond at first and I was certain he’d make his usual joke out of the question. He didn’t, once again looking toward the window. He did that when searching for comfort or answers. Xander had been three and a half. I’d heard kids that young had vivid memories, although most were forgotten as they grew older.

Up to this point, he hadn’t been asked anything about whether he could remember a single detail.

I glared at Wilder. What did bringing up the memories have to do with learning the truth about our worthless father?

“Forget I asked,” Wilder muttered.

“I do remember something,” Xander said. He had a faraway look in his eyes.

We remained quiet.

“I remember the night our mother was killed. I remember hearing her screams. There was blood everywhere, so much blood. She reached for me. She struggled to get to me. Pops stood over her with a butcher knife in his hand. I saw him kill her. Then everything was quiet. So quiet.”

Well, shit.

“Fuck,” I managed, fisting my hand. “The bastard deserved to die. I hope he was tortured.”

Xander sighed.

“We need to get in front of this before we lose contracts and customers,” Wilder suggested.

“What the hell are they going to find, bro?” Xander threw back so quickly I could tell he’d been thinking about whether the truth had been exposed for some time.

Maybe it was the right point in our lives to get to the bottom of the story, to where the truth had been driven until everyone involved in the attempt to keep it on the down low stopped pestering us.

If that was possible.

It wasn’t often that three of the most successful men in the world were the offspring of a monster.

“The truth,” I answered. “We deserve to learn the truth.”