Page 39 of Vow of Vengeance (Destruction & Vengeance Duet #2)

thirty-one

Declan

Fuck me.

My former best friend, a fucking killer, is astonishingly good at easing Marissa along in her trauma. He's got experience inflicting trauma, but I never would have guessed he had any inkling of how to handle it. But he does it.

I watch his hand coast up her back, rubbing gentle circles on her spine as they ascend the steps together, her with that blanket clutched around her. I wonder how his wife feels about him being so tender toward other women.

Sure, the circumstances are unusual, but I noticed how he almost seemed to turn the charm on to manipulate her into calming down for him.

That's Wes, though. He was always charming.

.. at least, that's what the girls say. I think he's just cunning, able to read people's needs so that he can get what he wants from them. It's what he did to me.

I scrub a hand over my face, because even though he de-escalated her, this turned into a goddamn mess.

I should be happy that we finally found her, but I didn't expect it to turn out like this.

Now we've got a witness, a dead body, and my wife's best friend has been through hell.

I don't know where we go from here, but I brought Wes along for a reason.

I kick the fucking corpse one last time in the face, and his lifeless body jerks with the force. He deserves worse, and a slower death than he got, but at least he's gone.

When I make it to the top of the stairs, it's to find Wes gripping Marissa's face and leaning in close to talk to her.

For a moment, I think he's going to kiss her, but he just assures her that everything is okay and helps her to sit down on the couch. I don't hear what he asks her, but I see her nod before Wes catches my eye and cuts his gaze to the kitchen, a clear indication he wants me to follow him.

"We have to get rid of her." He says in an undertone, the minute I'm at his side.

"What?" I laugh.

It's absurd, and I'm sure it's meant to be a joke, but I can't see the humor in it.

"I'm serious. She technically may have pulled the trigger, but if we get rid of her, we can make a clean break. If we keep her alive, we run the risk of her going to the police."

He is serious.

"Fuck, Wes, no." I hiss. "She's my wife's best friend! I'm not fucking killing her."

"What's your alternative? Let her go until she realizes she's a killer and snaps? Some women don't do well with that shit."

"Nobody should do well with that shit." I argue. But, really, I don't give a fuck that Khan is dead, so maybe I'm being a hypocrite.

"I'm just saying, if she gets a sudden sense of self-righteousness and goes to the police, what's keeping you out of prison? She knows who you are. I could disappear today and have a new identity by tomorrow, but you..."

"She won't." I shake my head. "She shot him in self-defense."

"And we explain the tape on his face, how ? Nothing about what we did screams self-defense because we were supposed to make him disappear. That won't work now."

I know, in some small part of me, that he's correct. All it would take to disprove self defense would be a single detective or medical examiner to actually do their job. It's a big ask, but also a big risk to assume that they won't.

I open my mouth, but I'm not sure how to answer that, because he's right. I make large donations to the police because I trust that the only corruption happening is that which I've sanctioned. But are my charitable contributions enough to make them all look the other way over a murder ?

I don't need to answer that, though, because his phone rings, cutting through the tenuous silence. I narrow my eyes at him.

"I thought you left your phone in the planter." I accuse.

He nods, his brow creasing as he reaches for the device in his back pocket. "This is a burner. Violet wouldn't call unless she had a good reason."

From the corner of my eye, I see Marissa stand, coming to walk toward us. I manage a smile that I hope is reassuring, but it falters when Wes answers the phone and I hear the panicked rush of his wife speaking.

I can't make out any words, but it's clear something is wrong.

"Slow down," Wes says, his voice suddenly softer like it was for Marissa. "Tell me again, what happened?"

Marissa and I both watch Wes a moment as he listens to whatever his wife is saying and then he drags his free hand through his hair.

"Are you okay?"

Temporary relief flashes across his face before his eyes collide with mine, and then he presses a button on the phone. I think he hung up, until he instructs his wife to tell us again, because she's on speakerphone.

"I'm so sorry!" Violet bursts out. "I opened the door to pick up a package, and someone came out of nowhere. He rushed me and knocked me out so he could get to Soren. He took her!"

"What?"

My heart seizes, refusing to believe what I've just heard.

He took her.

Soren.

My wife.

Fuck no.

" Who took her?"

I already know who it is. Tony must have been watching us, to know that I left Soren alone. Fuck. I left her alone, and now...

"I don't know. I didn't get a good look before he hit me. He was tall, thin..."

Tall and thin? Tony isn't thin . He's far from it.

"I heard him say something, but it didn't make any sense."

"Tell me!" I demand.

"He said something about fucking his wife... or his fucking wife?" I can hear the confusion in her tone.

His fucking wife.

What the fuck?

I'm already on my way out the door before I remember Marissa. "Stay with him. Call the police. It was self-defense, right?"

Marissa doesn't react, and Wes opens his mouth like he's going to object before I cut him off.

"You can have a new identity by morning, right? Stay with her. It was self-defense."

I don't give him the phone back. He can go find Khan's to dial 911.

"And how do I explain all this?" Wes argues, his hands in the air.

"You're smart." I snap. "Think of something."

Wes left the keys on the driver's seat, a ballsy move for a rental, and I practically run for them. "What's going on?" Violet asks, clearly bewildered.

"The man who took her... was he dark-skinned or light?”

"Uh..." Violet hesitates as she thinks. "Light. Pale. But his face was dark... like... shadowy?" She sighs, and it sounds suspiciously like a sob. "I'm so sorry! I swear, we didn't see anyone out there. I never would have opened the door for a stranger but--"

"Stop." I cut her off brusquely. "It's not your fault."

It's not. But if anything happens to Soren, it's about to be her problem. I'll go scorched earth on her and Wes and anybody else who gets in my way.

"Stay at my place until one of us gets there. It may be a while. Wes is... busy."

"Should I go look for her? I can-"

"No. Stay put, and don't open the door this time."

She's in the middle of saying something when I hang up on her and toss the phone onto the passenger seat, slamming my foot against the gas pedal.

It can't take more than five minutes to get to the bar, but it feels like a lifetime as I weave in and out of traffic, pushing the limits of the rental vehicle until I pull up just outside the bar's front entrance.

I throw the door open so hard that a woman sitting on a stool nearby nearly jumps off of it. But I don't stop, scanning the crowd as I walk to the back room.

I ignore the man who yells when I stalk behind the bar, and throw the door leading to the back room open as well. A man jumps to his feet, hitting the table as he stands and sending poker chips and cards flying around the floor.

"What the hell?" Tony grunts, getting to his feet too as I stride right up to him.

"Everyone out." I grit, without removing my gaze from Tony's stupid face.

"There's cash out." Someone objects. "And I'm winning."

I reach for the gun that my fingers have been itching to wrap around, and as soon as they're facing down the barrel, the two men look at each other decisively and leave.

"What's your play here, Evers?" Tony laughs, showing me his hands.

"Soren." I snap. "Someone's got her. Is it you?"

"Soren?" He laughs. "No, I don't have her. I'm not interested in a bitch who's been run through more than a college playbook in postseason." He smirks knowingly, and I could shoot him just for that. But I fucking need him alive.

"You know I've seen the basement." I say. "The cameras caught us down there, I'm sure. So why don't you cut the shit and show me to her?"

"The basement?" Tony laughs. "I don't know what you mean."

"Really?" I press the barrel between his eyes before he even stops chuckling to himself, and finally that sobers him a little. "Should I refresh your memory or just blow your fucking brains out since they’re so useless?"

I release the safety, and the click is enough to make him flinch.

"Okay! Relax, Evers. I'll take you to the fucking basement if you wanna go so bad."

I take a step back to let him walk before me, and he gives in easily, heading toward the same hidden door that Soren and I walked through a few days ago.

"Go on, hurry." I tell him when he hits the top of the steps.

He grumbles something I don't hear past the blood rushing in my ears and then begins to descend the stairs slowly with me at his back.

When we reach the bottom, it's silent and dark and my mind fills with horrible images of Soren dead on the ground or strapped to that fucking chair. Fortunately, when Tony turns the light on, the room is barren.

It's exactly as we left it the other day, mostly empty.

"Told you. I'm not interested in your bitch, okay?"

The only thing that made sense was this. But Tony is here. Would he have really had enough time to attack Violet, kidnap Soren, hide her somewhere, and come back here to start a game of poker?

There is another possibility, but it's ridiculous.

And yet...

"Where would Vin go?" I demand.

"Vin?" His brow furrows. "Vin's dead, Evers. You know that."

"Where would he go? If he didn't want to be seen. He filmed his little videos here, but there had to be another place."

"Videos?" Tony shakes his head. "I don't know what you're on about."

"Don't fuck with me." I warn him. "He filmed himself raping and murdering women, right here in this bar. Where else would he go? Where'd you go before the bar?"

"I don't know what you're-"

My fist across his face shuts him up quick.

It takes him a moment to recover, but when he does, he grits his teeth and I see blood run down them, tingeing them red.

I press the gun against his forehead in the next instant, and he straightens.

"Fuck is wrong with you?" Tony snaps. "You don't know what you're fucking with."

"I don't care!” I growl. "Soren. Vin has her. Where would he take her?"

"Probably the cemetery." Tony says, far too casually for my liking.

I shift the gun away from his head before he can even realize I'm moving and fire off a shot in his foot.

It takes him down screaming as blood rushes out around the hole in his leather oxford's, knocking him on his fat ass as he stares, horrified.

"You shot me!"

"And I'll do it again. Fucking tell me where he'd go to hide."

"He's fucking dead , you moron!" Tony roars. "What don't you get about that?"

"Well, then entertain my delusion." I snap. "Answer me or I'll put a bullet through your left foot too."

Tony grunts a stream of profanity, slams his fist against the ground. "Fine! There's a motel!"

I bend down and grip him by the collar of his shirt, dragging him to his feet.

"Show me."