Текст книги "Unlawful Justice"
Автор книги: K. Langston
Соавторы: K. C. Lynn
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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 19 страниц)
Retribution.
I stop by my apartment first and grab my other gun I keep locked away. It’s faster than driving back out to the farm. Then I haul ass to Prichard’s. I want to deal with him first. I knew that fucker was no good, but this… He’s crossed the goddamn line.
All the lights are out at his place when I pull up, the street completely dark and deserted. Pulling my ball cap low on my brow, I take a deep breath. I casually stroll up to his house then slip through the wooden gate to the back door. I quickly pick the lock before quietly letting myself in. His patrol truck is parked in the driveway so I know he’s home and likely sleeping since his shift starts at five a.m.
I maneuver through the dark kitchen and living room with stealth-like ease, remembering the layout from the few times I’ve been here in the past. Once I make it to his bedroom door, I unleash the wrath of my vengeance with the thrust of my boot to his door.
“What the fuck?”
I’m on him before he can reach for his gun. All of the pent-up rage that has accumulated over the last twenty-four hours has been completely unharnessed.
I pound him, my fists raining down blow after blow of unrelenting fury. “You’re not so fucking tough now, are you, asshole?”
“What the hell, Taylor?” he bellows, registering my heated voice. He throws his hands up, trying to block my punches, but there is no stopping this maddening darkness erupting inside of me.
“I fucking warned you. You went too far this time,” I seethe, landing another heavy blow to his face. Bone crushes beneath my fists, blood splattering my face and clothes.
It makes me think of all the other blood lost.
Terrell.
Liv.
His fist clips my chin, but I feel nothing except deep satisfaction and my ruthless aggression taking over. Grabbing my loaded gun that’s tucked into the back of my jeans, I press the hard steel to his head.
“Jesus Christ, what the fuck are you doing?” he sputters, looking ready to piss himself.
“Where the fuck is the compound?”
Something flickers in his eyes, masking some of the stone-cold fear. He licks the corner of his bloody mouth. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I bring my hand back and slam the butt of my gun into his jaw, making him howl in pain. “He’s alive and he named you, motherfucker. Now tell me what I want to know, or I will put a goddamn bullet in your head.”
“I swear, man, I don’t know anything.” The lie oozes from him, seeping into my blood with heated force.
“Fine. You had your chance. I’ll go fucking beat it out of Larson instead.” I apply more pressure, pressing the barrel into his forehead much harder than last time. He growls in pain.
My thumb releases the safety.
“No! No, wait!”
I freeze, my finger hovering with temptation just above the trigger.
“Please, they’ll kill me if I tell.” He blubbers like a coward, cracking like I knew he would.
“Should have thought about that before you joined the fuckers.”
He shakes his head. “Listen, Taylor, it ain’t that simple. This shit is bigger than you think. If you don’t back off now they’ll kill you. They don’t fuck around.”
“Blood will be shed, but it won’t be mine.”
“Will you fucking listen to me?” he shouts. “There is no stopping them, even your—”
I cut off his words with another crack to his face, tired of listening to his shit. “No. You fucking listen to me. Either you tell me what I want to know or you die now, by my hand. What’s it going to be?”
His eyes close as defeat settles over him. He visibly swallows, choking back his own blood before opening them again. “It’s thirty miles north of here. 1866 Mercer Road.”
“If you’re lying to me I’ll come back and finish you.”
He lifts his chin in defiance. “You’ll be lucky if you make it another day. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
I smirk down at him. “You think I’m afraid of you? You’re all a bunch of fucking cowards.” Fisting his shirt, I yank him up just enough to bring his face inches from mine. “You should have never fucked with him. Now you’re all going to pay.” Raising my hand, I drop the butt of my gun down to his temple with enough power to knock him unconscious. Hopefully, the bastard is out long enough for me to do what I need to do without alerting anyone. Before I leave I snatch his cell phone from the bedside table and toss it out the window when I get down the road.
Half an hour later I park my truck on a hidden dirt road, about a mile from the address and go in on foot the rest of the way.
I stay hidden behind the thicket of trees, easing my way up the long driveway. The enormous metal building finally comes into view. It’s dark. Quiet. Nothing more than a small, yellow bug light above a large metal door indicating its presence. There’s a deadbolt securing the entrance so I make my way to one of the side windows. I wait silently, listening for any movement before peeking inside. Only shadows cover the floor, so I push up on the window, trying to get in. It doesn’t budge at first but with a little jiggle it finally gives way.
After a steeled breath I hop up to climb inside and drop to the concrete floor below.
Fishing my phone from my pocket, I switch on the light. Hundreds of metal chairs are lined up neatly throughout the room that is also equipped with a flat screen TV and several couches against the walls. There’s a small stage up front with an enormous Confederate flag hanging from the ceiling and a podium with a cross carved into the front.
Hate boils in my blood, merging with the deep-seated anger burning inside of me.
I spot a wooden door off to the left so I move toward it and make my way inside to find a large office. I rifle through the desk first, opening drawers, collecting the few file folders inside. I don’t spare a glance, eager to get the fuck out of here.
I scan the light around the room to make sure I don’t miss anything, and stop short when I catch a glimpse of all of the framed photos along the wall.
Walking closer to get a better look, I find it’s generation after generation of people who have all been a part of this shit. Some are so old they’re in black and white, while others are in full color.
When I make it to the last group picture my heart stops cold. I shake my head as my vision blurs, certain I’ve lost my fucking mind.
Slowly pulling the frame from the wall with a shaking hand, I look closer and realize it’s no mistake. There, in the very front row is my father, standing next to Dixon. They both smile proudly back at the camera with the rest of the men surrounding them, each wearing a navy blue T-shirt, showcasing the KKK insignia embroidered over their chests.
My stomach twists violently as bile rises in my throat.
The roar of an engine cuts through the silence, temporarily relieving me of the urge to throw up.
Withdrawing my gun, I tuck the picture and files beneath my arms and crouch down next to a large cabinet, my weapon trained and ready.
I hear the main door being opened before a familiar voice fills the air. “Any word on Johnson?” That churning in my stomach worsens when I realize it’s Dixon. “Good, let’s hope the nigger doesn’t wake up. If he does, then at least he knows to back off. He came too close.”
I sit in complete and utter shock as I listen to the man I respected all my life and loved like a father, speak about ordering the attack on Terrell.
“I wish I could have been there to help. I’ve been dying to lay it to the fuckin’ coon since I was forced to hire him on at the department, thanks to his rant to the mayor. He’s a mouthy fucker, always trying to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong.”
Heavy footfalls enter the office but he doesn’t turn on the light, simply grabbing something from the desk and walking back out. My finger twitches just above the trigger, but somehow I manage to refrain from blowing his goddamn brains out.
“Is everything in place at the location for Friday night?” I tense, my interest peaking. “Very good. That’s what I like to hear.”
Silence.
“Yeah, I got it. Just locking up and leaving now. See you soon.”
Once he leaves and I hear his vehicle pull away, I stay where I am for a long while, shock and a biting pain slicing through my chest.
All the way back to my truck I’m completely numb. I’m in such a fucked up state of mind that I don’t remember the drive to my mother’s house.
Using the hidden key under the mat, I let myself into my childhood home. I don’t bother being quiet as I enter the kitchen and drop into a chair at the table. When I stare down at the photo I’m barely able to make out the faces with the only light being the one shining from the stove, but I don’t need to. I know who they are. It’s an image I will never forget.
I feel like my whole life has been nothing but a lie. Like the life I knew never really existed.
My father wasn’t a hero—he was a fucking monster.
The revelation wraps around my heart like a poisonous snake, constricting inside my chest until I can’t breathe. With my fist clenched I bring it down on the glass, welcoming the sharp stab of pain as the shards cut through my rough skin. I hear my mother cautiously leaving her room. Knowing her, she has her phone in one hand and a gun in the other, something both my father and I always taught her.
“It’s me,” I choke out, my voice like sandpaper against wood.
“Grayson?” Her footsteps pick up at the sound of my voice and the hall light flips on. I bow my head at the intruding brightness. A gasp flies from her mouth, as she looks me over. I can only imagine what I look like; knowing Prichard’s blood is on me. She sets her pistol and phone down on the counter before rushing over to me. “Honey? What happened?” Her feet swiftly falter when she spots the smashed frame in front of me.
For the first time, I lift my head and look at her. The pain and fear twisting her face is all the confirmation I need. Not that I had any remaining doubt, but I had hoped, prayed, this was all some fucked up nightmare.
Her hand wraps around her throat nervously as tears immediately form in her eyes.
“Tell me,” I demand, barely able to get the words out.
She shakes her head. “Grayson, please. Leave it alone. Just—”
I slam my fist down on the table, causing her to flinch. “Stop the bullshit and tell me the goddamn truth!”
She squeezes her eyes shut, tears pouring down her cheeks, but I have zero sympathy. Not when I’ve been completely blindsided by the truth of his betrayal.
“My entire life was a lie,” I grind out through clenched teeth.
“No. No, it wasn’t.”
“Yes, it was,” I shout. “My whole life I thought he was a hero. My own father, the man I looked up to more than anyone else. When really he was nothing more than a corrupt asshole.”
Her sobs grow louder as she drops down to her knees in front of me. “No, Grayson. You need to listen to me. Your father…your father was a good man, he really was. He was just misguided.”
“Misguided? He was a fucking racist, Mom. There’s nothing good about that.”
“It’s how he was raised, honey. For a long time he didn’t know any better. He was changing though. He did change. And after so many years of hate he finally…he finally let go of it all. It’s why…” She trails off, agony washing over her face.
“What? Fucking say it! Don’t keep any more shit from me.”
With deep breaths she tries to compose herself. “He wanted out. He resented what they stood for, but most of all he hated that he’d become his father, someone he despised.”
I’d never met my grandfather. He died of emphysema not long after I was born and my father rarely spoke of him.
“You live what you learn, Grayson,” she continues, her words thick with pain. “I didn’t realize until after we were married just how deep his hate ran. I watched him struggle with it over the years. It’s hard to refute something that has been ingrained into your blood since birth, but he eventually saw the light. He realized what they stood for was wrong. So he told them he wouldn’t be a part of it anymore. They were furious, Grayson.” Her sobs return full force. “A week later…he was dead.”
I tense.
“Are you trying to tell me they killed him?”
She nods. “Yes, I believe they did. I think they were worried he would expose them, so they got rid of him.” Her forehead falls to my knee, her body trembling with emotion as she falls apart.
I think about her revelation, my head reeling as I remember the words my father said to me right before he died.
Seek the truth and you will find justice.
“Dixon,” I mutter, trying to comprehend everything. “Dixon is a part of it.”
Lifting her head, she reveals her bloodshot eyes, delivering a solid blow to my chest. “Yes. He’s their leader. I hated that you worked with him, but I was too afraid to say anything. He’s a cruel man, Grayson. I knew if we moved he’d find us, and I was scared he would do the same thing to you. It’s why you need to forget about this. I can’t lose you, too. I’ll never survive it. Please, you have to let this go.”
I stare down at my mother, imprisoned by fear. Terrified of a man we’ve known all our lives. Her pleading eyes sharpen my anger. To know that motherfucker has controlled my family for so long. To know he killed my father…
I shake my head. “No. I won’t forget it. They almost killed my best friend tonight.” Her eyes widen in shock. “They aren’t getting away with it. None of it. I’m going to bring every single one of the motherfuckers down.”
“Oh God!” She cries, burying her face in her hand.
Grabbing the photo from the mangled frame, I stand and walk away.
“Grayson, wait!” Scrambling from the floor, she runs head-on into my chest, wrapping her arms tight around my waist. “Please don’t hate me. I couldn’t handle knowing you hate me.”
My throat and eyes begin to burn like a motherfucker, desperate to release my conflicted fucking emotions, but I grind my teeth to ward it off. “I don’t hate you.”
I might be furious with her. Not only did my father lie to me but my mother did too, but I could never hate her.
She lifts her red, swollen eyes to find mine and sniffles. “And your father?”
I can’t even think about him right now or the pain might fucking kill me.
I lean down and kiss the top of her head. “Ask me that another day.” Unwinding her arms from around my waist, I walk out the door before the emotions suffocate me.
CHAPTER 30
Olivia
I frantically pace the floor of the living room. Glancing at the clock for the hundredth time, I wonder where Grayson could be. It’s the middle of the night and he left the hospital hours ago.
Once we knew Terrell was stable and he would be okay, Pap and I left shortly after his parents arrived. We wanted to give them time together as a family, and Pap needed sleep. He looked exhausted, weighed down after all the events over the last twenty-four hours. He tried to get me to come to the main house with him but I couldn’t.
I need to be right here waiting for Grayson when he returns.
He was so furious when he left. I’m terrified of what he’ll do. He’s the most honorable man I know, but he’s also not going to stand by and do nothing. However, after what they did to Terrell, I’m worried it’s pushed him over the edge.
My heart still aches remembering the way Terrell looked, so battered and broken. I don’t know how anyone could do that to him, and knowing it was a man I used to date… it has nausea rolling in my stomach. Add that to my fear for Grayson and my anxiety is through the roof.
I’m about to try his cell again when the distant sound of tires crunching on gravel fills my ears. Relief swamps me when I peek through the curtains and see his pickup. Flipping on the outside light, I open the door and run outside, eager to make sure he’s okay. He’s already out of the truck, slowly walking toward me. My feet falter on the porch when I get a look at him, and pure fear grips my chest once I catch sight of the blood staining his clothes.
“Oh my God. Grayson?” I rush over to him as he drops down on the bottom step. He buries his face in his arms as I frantically search to find out where he’s bleeding. “What’s happened to you? Where are you hurt?”
He mumbles something I can’t quite understand. “What? Grayson, please, answer me.” I cry. “You’re scaring me.”
His head lifts, and I suck in a sharp breath at the tortured look in his eyes. “It’s not my blood,” he grinds out.
Oh God.
Pain slices through me as tears begin to stream down his pale face. His head falls to his hands, his fingers gripping the long strands as he completely breaks. I watch his shoulders begin to shake with agony. The devastation pouring from him absolutely guts me.
I tamp down my emotions as best I can and wrap my arms around his neck. “Shh. It’s okay,” I soothe, whispering in his ear. “No matter what happened we’ll get through it.”
I hold him quietly as he works through his pain. The despair radiating from him seeps into every part of my body, shattering my heart into a million pieces.
Once he’s calmer he lifts his gaze to mine, looking completely destroyed. I hold his tear-streaked face between my hands and brush a kiss across his lips. “Talk to me. Tell me what happened.”
I steel myself for whatever he’s about to say, knowing it’s going to be bad if it has him this upset.
“It’s nothing but a lie,” he chokes out. “All of it, Liv. My whole life has been a lie.” My heart clenches at the raw sadness in his voice. “He was one of them.”
I frown in confusion. “Who?”
“My father.”
“One of who?” I ask, still not understanding.
Something hard flickers in his eyes as he stares back at me. “The KKK.”
I tense, thinking I must have heard him wrong. “What are you talking about?”
Through clenched teeth he tells me everything, what happened with Prichard, going to the compound, and finding the photo. Then the visit with his mother, and her suspicion that they are responsible for his father’s death.
My head reels to sort through it all, but mostly my heart rips open at how wrecked he is. “They killed him,” he whispers, “my father’s best fucking friend killed him, and I’ve been working for him all along.” Guilt and rage drips from his voice.
I feel helpless, having no idea what to do or say to him right now to make it better. I wish I could take his pain away and carry it as my own.
With a heavy breath I kiss his forehead then stand, reaching for his hand.
“Come on. Come inside.”
He allows me to lead him in, walking numbly and silently behind me. I bring him to the bathroom and start the shower, desperate to get this blood off of him before we talk anymore. “Give me your clothes, and I’ll throw them in the wash.”
After he strips I take the clothes to the laundry then walk back in the bathroom. Through the fogged glass door I see him standing under the hot spray, his hands braced on the wall while his head hangs between his arms in complete and utter defeat.
Removing my own clothes, I step in behind him and immediately start washing his body. I watch the blood wash away, mixing with the soap, and wish it was his pain flowing down the drain with it. As I move around to the front, scrubbing his chest and arms, he lifts his head, bringing his tortured eyes to mine.
“Who am I?” he asks, sounding so lost, so…distant.
Choking down the sob threatening to break free, I stare up at him through the billowing steam around us. “You’re Grayson Taylor, the bravest, most honorable man I’ve ever known.” Stepping closer, I reach up and cup his wet face, “I know it hurts right now, but what you found out tonight doesn’t reflect who you are. You’re still you and you’re still mine. I know you will find a way to make all of this right again. Just like you always do, and I’ll be there with you every step of the way.”
His eyes soften with my words. Before I can brace myself he lifts me from the floor and pins me against the wall, my legs immediately finding their home around his waist.
“I need you, Liv. I need to feel you,” he croaks, his breathing harsh as he tries to rein in his emotions.
His swelling cock poised at my entrance, he awaits permission. My heart leaps with need. “Yes.”
He impales me in one solid thrust, sending an army of sensations to explode throughout my entire body. My head falls back against the wall, mouth opening on a silent cry as he completes me—body and soul.
“Look at me, baby.” Bringing my eyes to his, he begins to move, filling me with each deliberate stroke. “I need you.”
“You have me. Always.”
My fingers cling to his shoulders, encouraging him to give it all over to me—the pain, the betrayal, every last bit of his anger. Our eyes stay locked the entire time, his desperation and our love swirling in a storm of certainty between us.
“Never leave me,” he breathes, his words raw and broken.
Tears burn my eyes and begin falling, mixing with the hot water streaming down my face. I bring my hands to his jaw to hold his face in place. “Never. I’ll never leave you,” I promise, the vow just as strong on my tongue as it is in my heart.
The look in his piercing blue eyes is unmistakable but the moment his mouth seals over mine, his strokes become faster, deeper, building pressure in the most incredible way as he takes what he needs from me. What I will inevitably always give.
“Mine.” He claims with a growl against my lips.
Eyes locked monumentally tight, I nod. “Always.”
He continues to move in and out with a force that can only be described as possessive, claiming every single part of me for his own. My body readily complies when my orgasm slams into me, hard and fast. On a deep groan, Grayson buries his face in my neck, taking his own release. His breath is harsh against my heated skin as I hold him through it all, whispering in his ear how much I love him.
“Everything will be okay, Grayson. We’ll get through this like we have everything else. I promise.”
He doesn’t say anything back but I feel more of the tension ease from him. I’m glad that for once I can be what he needs.
Be there for him like he’s always there for me.
