Page 22
Story: Seducer (Legacy of Kings #2)
CHAPTER 22
Z ach
“Go back to your goddamn room.”
The booming voice forced me to wince. I stood halfway down the stairs, hanging onto the railing as I tried to peer over it. From where I stood, the Christmas tree was bright, presents crowding halfway into the room. They were all in colorful paper and bows.
My eyes were open wide, hopeful Santa had brought me something.
The large man who’d insisted I call him my father bounded up from where he was sitting, the three other children in the house laughing and grabbing one present after another.
The woman who barely looked at me seemed annoyed.
“Frank. It’s Christmas. Leave the kid alone,” she said.
“He knows better than to interrupt our family time,” Frank barked and stormed up the stairs, grabbing my arm with one hand while slapping me across the face with the other.
While tears formed in my eyes, I’d learned a long time ago not to shed a single one. The beatings were always worse when I did.
But it was so hard not to sniffle. Santa had forgotten me. Again.
“Now, you march up to your room and stay there. If you don’t, I’ll use the belt. If you’re good, you’ll get dinner tonight. Now, just go. I don’t want to see your ugly face again.” He shoved me so hard I was pitched against the steps, pain shooting into my arm.
I bit back a whimper and struggled to crawl up the stairs.
As the other children, Frank and Cora’s biological children played.
I checked the GPS, determining I was in the right location. As I made a turn, I rolled my middle finger across my lip. The memory had come in a rush that afternoon while sitting in my office. Out of the fucking blue. Now the horrific visions were no longer just tethered to my nightmares.
They were invading my daylight hours.
I thought about what Jacob had warned me about. There was certainly no reason for that memory in particular to come to the forefront of my mind. Frank and Cora. While a belt had been used on me several times a week, the agony with them had been more about never receiving a kind word or nice gesture. Sure, I had clean clothes to wear to school, but that was only because they’d been worried my teachers were tattle on my poor condition to social services.
I’d figured out later that Frank had been running for office and had made a proclamation about having a foster child, which had ticked him up in the polls. I’d been used. Nothing more.
They learned I wasn’t going to take it any longer when I burned their house down.
I’d been eight, the start of my illustrious criminal career.
Sadly, the loss of their home had been the best of all of the actions I’d taken after relishing the taste of revenge. I bore the scars to prove the assholes who’d vowed to care for me had been horrible people. Some of them were visible and some still festering deep inside.
At least I’d spared their lives. Others hadn’t been so lucky.
Initially, I’d found satisfaction in making them suffer, but even then, the highs I’d experienced at first had worn off, leaving me empty and cold. Just like when Blackwell Group had been created.
The three of us had lived through the virtual reality games, the violence feeding our darkness. We’d reveled in the successes, years of living frugally finally resulting in money beyond our wildest dreams. All three of us had lived the lifestyle of the rich and famous, including enjoying the company of women. We’d purchased lavish homes and vehicles. We’d eaten at the finest restaurants and traveled first class. After several years, nothing had been satisfactory. Hence the Obsidian Society had been created one dark night.
I’d enjoyed being a bystander in the games, but Xander’s inclusion the year before and his subsequent success in finding a mate had altered my pattern of thinking. I hadn’t believed that possible until seeing the Wild One dance.
Shit.
I’d almost sent my wild kitty an invitation until something had told me to learn even more about her, including regarding her secrets. If my instincts were correct, she would be at the club, someone receiving an invitation. A part of me already felt possessive of being forced to share her. Sharing wasn’t a word in my vocabulary.
So here I was wearing an Obsidian Society costume, preparing to enter another man’s dark realm.
Tonight, I was the Seducer.
A man on a mission.
Fighting desire that had invaded my dreams, ignited my senses.
The darkness, the hunger had crowded into my system, making any aspect of normal life seem bland.
In addition, there were the stories and rumors, the ugliness about our family that felt as if there were stacked guillotines waiting in the shadows.
By the end of day, the phone calls I’d questioned had started to come into the office. A couple of reporters, a few customers. However, for the most part sales continued to increase. Oddly enough, the movie producer had contacted Xander twice almost begging for a meeting.
As I’d known from early in my career, sex and violence always sold merchandise. When you added in the possibility that we were deranged killers, to Hollywood we were found gold.
I’d yet to hear if either Wilder or Xander had made any headway on whether there was any information on the tips both reporters had received. I would in the morning. Tonight was all about cornering Brant.
He’d called me again, reminding me of his personal invitation. I’d almost told him no, but something about the urgent sound of his voice had taken me aback. The man was hiding something and I was determined to find out what.
Christopher had also come through, learning that Brant’s father was in significant debt. The warehouse was something Brant had put his heart and soul into. However, it seemed his father’s tight hold on various real estate pieces was crumbling with no clear indication of why. Other than that his Ponzi scheme had come to a crashing end. Christopher was still calling in a few favors, but at least I had some knowledge my buddy might be ready to supply me with the truth. If not… God help him.
While I hadn’t known Brant very well, Steve had pulled me aside early on, sharing with me his buddy had a twisted streak a mile wide. I’d wondered since then if his father was aware of that.
The warehouse district was slowly attracting attention, various small businesses and corporations taking aim at owning a piece of an area some had coined a new Soho. So far, what few operations had set up shop were eclectic in nature, including funky jewelry stores and art galleries. Brant’s was the only club in the district.
If he played his cards right, he’d have a success on his hands.
The warehouse itself appeared larger than seen in the pictures. There were four floors secured in an old brick and mortar building. I’d learned it had once been a manufacturing plant. From what I’d heard, there were several auxiliary rooms for private parties. Given the interesting layout of the facility, the location could lend itself to being used for hunting purposes.
Grinning, I found a parking spot on the street a few blocks away. Almost as soon as I exited my vehicle, I could hear voices. There were several couples heading in the same direction I was.
I was dressed in all black, my selected mask shoved into my back pocket. In the games, we’d taken over abandoned warehouses, used huge stretches of vacant woods, one of which had included a dilapidated cabin, and had even used a cemetery for extra spookiness. But an actual club hadn’t been a selection of choice.
There were too many possible witnesses, people who couldn’t be controlled.
Still, a part of me was curious as to what Brant had come up with. I walked toward the entrance, met by two large bouncers with skull masks and a young woman who appeared as something straight out of the Joker movie.
“Can I help you, sir? Are you ready to conquer your personal demons?” she asked.
“I prefer keeping my demons to myself.”
She exhaled. “Just remember, the rumor is that several people have died inside this very building. You never know when you’ll meet an angry ghost.”
Well, if the girl was nothing else, she was an excellent saleswoman with a flair for the dramatic.
“Fascinating.”
“Do you have an invitation for tonight?”
An invitation. Perhaps this was more of a soft opening. “How about Brant Abbott’s insistent invitation?”
She giggled. “That will do.”
“Where is he?”
“In the office on the first floor. You’ll see the door marked employees only.”
“Thank you.” I immediately noticed the on and off lights that seemed to come from nowhere. I also could hear the hard thumping of a drum. While there was a sense of the macabre, I wouldn’t call the interior scary in the least. Well, maybe to eight-year-olds. I chuckled from the thought.
The bouncers gave me a basic pat down, ignoring the Beretta I had secured in a leg holster. I’d learned a long time ago never to be without a weapon. As soon as I walked inside, I was struck by the gloomy lighting. The most vibrant color was neon blue, the swinging fixtures bolted to the high ceiling constantly creating a shimmer skittering off the floor. With the addition of black lights, those wearing certain masks appeared even more ghoulish.
Music pumped from every surface and I could see at least two large bars. With at least two hundred people inside, I was curious as to how many guests had been invited.
However, my hackles were raised. Something was definitely off.
I’d always relied on my instinct and it told me that there was another hunter inside the club.
There were hallways to the left and right, the one to the left indicating restrooms. As I headed down the other, I was completely overstimulated by the sights and sounds. But I could almost hear a thudding heartbeat over the roar of the music.
The door with a flimsy looking employees only sign wasn’t locked, something that surprised me although I suspected Brant had been waiting for my arrival. There were several offices, all equipped nicely.
I found Brant in his office near the end of the hall, staring at his computer screen. He appeared as if a zombie, the costume state of the art. That was something I could admit.
The space was put together yet also not quite right. As if he’d been attempting to make an impression. I’d remained in his doorway for almost thirty seconds before he lifted his head. At first, I was certain I noticed absolute terror in his eyes.
“Wow. You came. I honestly didn’t think you had any desire to check out my place.” He rose to his feet, wiping his palms on his pants. The man was sweating like a pig. After walking around the corner of his desk, he threw out his hand.
His nervousness was also apparent by the fact he was shaking.
What in the hell had the man gotten himself mixed up in?
I wasn’t in the mood for niceties or chitchat. I simply wrapped my hand around his throat, lifting and tossing him against the wall. His chair went flying, his eyes immediately filling with heightened terror.
I had him barely standing on his toes, easily able to lift the thinner man with no exertion.
“What… What are…”
Clamping down my fingers, I wanted him to face the possibility I would kill him without hesitation. “I’m very curious as to why you were so interested in the Obsidian Society. Enough so you didn’t bother to ask me about it in private. That put me in a very testy mood. That places my family and my business in a precarious position and as you might imagine, that’s unacceptable.”
“I don’t… know… anything. I was just curious.”
What fucking bullshit. It was that moment I determined he’d led me here for an entirely different reason than hoping I’d fall in love with his new business venture.
I squeezed his pressure points, cocking my head as I studied his reaction. “Did you know there are dozens of pressure points on the human body? Now, they can be used to relieve pain, a practice called reflexology. However, they can also be used to provide excruciating anguish.” I yanked one of his hands into mine, easily finding the exact location I was looking for.
There was no delay in Brant’s reaction. He winced, crying out in a way that brought tears to his eyes.
“That’s barely an acknowledgeable level. If I add just a hint of additional pressure, I assure you that everything in your urinary tract and bowels will be released. Now, I’m certain you don’t want that. Do you?”
“No. No! Please stop.”
I did, but not at first. When I finally relinquished my hold, I immediately backed away. He cradled his hand against his chest, sucking down pockets of air. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Exhaling, I shifted back by another two steps. “What did your father tell you to do?”
“My father had… nothing to do… with my questions.” He had a surprised look on his face.
“Then who did?”
He tried to get as far away from me as possible. “I don’t know. I swear, Zach. I had an anonymous email sent to me and I laughed at first, but whoever it was provided details and suggested the club would be very good for the society. I thought it was okay at first.”
I laughed. I could sense the man was telling the truth. “Keep going.”
“Okay, I was threatened the club wouldn’t open. That the city would continue to find infractions. That the cost would be thousands of dollars I didn’t have.”
The city. If there was any truth to what he was saying, that meant a crooked politician might have been used on Brant’s father’s Ponzi scheme. Something about that didn’t sit right.
“So you were hired to flush out the Obsidian Society?”
“I don’t have any idea. I was told to ask and invite you tonight. And keep inviting you if you didn’t come. I asked, you answered. I sent an email in return. I thought it was done, but I received a phone call after that night at the club. They were much more insistent.”
“You keep saying they.”
“Only because whoever is doing this used the term ‘we.’ Yes, I tried to figure out who I was talking to, but I reached dead ends every time.”
“Why didn’t you come to me?”
He laughed. “And say what, some assholes wanted me to weasel information out of you and I’d been stupid enough to find myself in the position of doing so? I had no idea how you’d react.”
“But you heard rumors of what I was capable of.”
For some reason, I believed the guy. Not that it made any sense at this point.
He nodded profusely.
“Did you tell your father?”
“No. Why would I? Contrary to what everyone thinks, we don’t get along. He’s all but disowned me since I’m a fuckup. Okay? Jesus. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”
“You made a significant mistake by not telling me. Was the article mentioned?”
“The one from a few months ago?”
“A recent one provided by a reporter in St. Louis in a newspaper that just happens to be owned by your father. The reporter alluded to a serious black mark that would be revealed at a later time. Funny how suddenly another reporter from right here in Chicago confronted my brothers and me just recently. If I’m not wrong, and I never am, the Chi-town paper is also in your father’s portfolio.”
He appeared even more nervous than before. Was the kid being played somehow?
“Maybe whoever it was believed I would manage to convince my father to run a second story.”
“You’re lying.”
“I swear to God, I’m not.”
“Then why the cloak and dagger routine?”
“I told you why.” He was still panting.
I grabbed him again, this time issuing two brutal punches to his face. “Try again.”
“Fine. I lied to some degree. Okay? I don’t know you. I thought I had to.” He was trying his best to crawl away along the wall.
“Goddamn it, Brant. What the fuck is going on?”
He closed his eyes, still holding and rubbing his hand. “My dad is broke. Okay? He made some bad investments, including in this place. He was using a Ponzi scheme and it’s all gone.”
“Yeah, so I heard. What’s his criminal record have to do with the shit you’re pulling?”
“I mean everything he worked to achieve was gone, like poof. This is the only place left. Yes, he still has interest in the media firms, but it’s not what you think. At least not that I know of. I just think Dad got himself into some trouble.”
“With whom?”
“Like I said, my dad and I aren’t close.” He was sweating like a pig.
“The bullshit you dropped doesn’t answer why you insisted I show up tonight. What are you hiding from me?”
“I had to do it. The only people allowed in tonight were by special invitation only.”
“Including me.”
“Yes. That’s all I fucking know.”
“Why do it?” When I moved toward him again, he threw out his hands.
“They have my sister. They said they’ll kill her if I didn’t. They consider her payment for what my father did.”
“Let’s try this one more time. Who is ‘they’?”
“I don’t know! One of the hundreds of people my father schemed. That’s all I know. Or I guessed.”
“What are you supposed to do?”
“I was given a guest list and told to lure you here. That’s it. I did as I was told.”
This was nothing more than a piece of the puzzle and Brant was being used much like Jerry had been. Why go to such great lengths?
“Where is your father?”
“Where do you think? The bastard ran.” Brant was exasperated. “If I could find him, I’d kill him myself. I wish I knew what this shit was about. I don’t. I’d tell you if I did.”
I tried to wrangle my mind around what he was telling me. Over the years, Blackwell had experienced our share of enemies using creative methods to try to break through our secret veil, learning our tricks and trades. That was common. This had a personal flavor to it.
“Where is this guest list?”
“I have it. It’s right on my computer. But keep in mind people were allowed to bring guests.” He pointed to his computer and I nodded.
He was shaking as he moved toward it, fumbling before he pulled up a document.
I moved around him, staring at the list.
There were names of celebrities and politicians, influencers and musicians. There was also a single name I recognized personally.
Sara Capshaw.
“What the fuck is going on?” I wasn’t really asking him.
He exhaled through gritted teeth. “I don’t know. I swear to God, I’m not lying to you.”
The guy was a broken record, but one thing was certain. He was terrified.
I took a deep breath and filtered through other files on his computer. When I came to one in particular, I took an exaggerated deep breath.
The quote.
The stupid fucker had typed the note on this computer and forgotten to erase it prior to heading to my house. Of course he knew where I’d be since he’d been invited to the club for the evening.
“You’re the one who visited my house. You left a threatening note, which you also sent to the reporter in St. Louis. Is anything you just told me the truth?”
Brant was practically foaming at the mouth.
I debated the consequences of killing him. At this point, I doubted he had anything useful to offer, but I couldn’t allow him to get off without some form of punishment. He had a separate hard drive connected to his computer. The best weapon at this point was by use of keeping him in line.
I closed the files and ejected the drive, pocketing it before raking my arm across his system. As it tumbled to the floor, he gasped and dared confront me.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he asked, completely exasperated by my actions.
“I’m buying myself some time while keeping myself from killing you right here. Right now. So, here’s what we’re going to do. I have enough evidence to put you behind bars for a very long time. Once this night is complete, you’re going to ensure pieces will be run in every newspaper your father has in his possession retracting the articles. And you’ll have the reporters issue an apology.”
“What about my sister?”
“If that is even the truth, you’re going to contact the person who did this and let them know I’m now in charge.”
“You just destroyed my computer.”
I laughed. “You must think I’m stupid. You have access to your email on your phone. I’ll keep the evidence. You’ll let them know I’m coming for them. And trust me, I will determine who’s behind this. After that, you’re going to leave town.”
“I can’t leave my sister.”
“Then you can tell them in exchange for releasing her, they can have exclusive access to the Obsidian Society.”
“I don’t think that’s all they want.”
Neither did I. “Leave that to me. If you fuck with me, you die. It’s as simple as that. Do we have a deal, Brant?”
He stood staring at me with a slightly open mouth. “Yes. Fine. Whatever.”
“Just remember our discussion.” I headed for the door.
“It’s true what they say. Your father was a monster. Wasn’t he?”
I stopped short of opening the door. “Perhaps he was. And you know what they say. Like father, like son. In this case, three sons. I suggest you keep that in mind. You don’t want me as your greatest nightmare.”