Текст книги "ARROGANT PLAYBOY"
Автор книги: Winter Renshaw
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Текущая страница: 26 (всего у книги 43 страниц)
I stop before my father, staring over his shoulder just enough that he knows I can’t look him in the eye. “I never want to see you again.”
Summer gasps. “Waverly, don’t say such things.”
My eyes finally shift into my father’s. I say the one thing I know will hurt him the most. “You’re dead to me.”
My father doesn’t flinch or react. He extracts a heavy breath from the air, his shoulders as firm as his belief system. I’m sure he’s justifying this decision six ways from Sunday in his mind, believing this is all for the greater good. He probably thinks he’s saving my soul, and if that’s the case, there’s absolutely no changing his mind.
“I never want to see any of you ever again.” I spit my words at them, pointing my finger, my gaze darting from Dad and Summer to Mom. Their stares are weighted with pity and prayers. I can practically feel them saying silent prayers for my soul, asking Heavenly Father to forgive me for not knowing better and to forgive them for years of failed teachings. “Go to Hell. All of you.”
CHAPTER 27
JENSEN
“This is bullshit.” I slam my fist across the counter of Kath’s house the second I’m alone with her. “You know that, right?”
“Jensen.” Her body tenses. “You are not to speak about Mark or his decisions with disrespect.”
“You know he’s no better than Dad, right? He’s fucking Josiah Mackey 2.0, the delusional, polygamist version.”
“Jensen.” There’s more bark in her voice this time, which is funny, because I’m not sure I’ve ever seen Kath raise her voice before. “Do not make this worse than it already is. I think we all need to cool off for a bit. Why don’t you head upstairs and relax?”
“Yeah, because relaxing is exactly what I want to fucking do.”
My mother slaps me across the mouth, leaving a mild sting. Fair enough, I suppose, but it was worth it.
“I’m leaving.” I pull my keys from my pocket.
“Where are you going?”
“I don’t know.”
I head outside, climb into my truck, and drive around town for what feels like hours. The shop is closed on Sundays, so I can’t go to work. Liberty is probably hung over as hell, so I can’t go there.
So I just drive.
And think.
This is just a minor hiccup. I’ll see pay one of the twins to slip a note to Waverly at breakfast, and we’ll figure everything out. A lot can happen in forty-eight hours. I can figure everything out for the both of us.
I return to Kath’s several hours later, a black Audi with Arizona plates rests in her driveway.
“No fucking way,” I mutter when I climb out. Approaching the vehicle with careful steps, I’m floored the second I notice it’s Juliette sitting in the driver’s seat. I rap on her window, startling her, and when she turns to face me, my stomach drops.
With black and blue eyes so swollen it’s a wonder she can see, she begins to sob. She climbs out, throwing her arms around me like I’m some kind of lifeline. The bump on her nose tells me he broke it again, and dried blood resides in the gash across her bottom lip.
“You should’ve left him.” I brush her hair from her eyes. I forgot how small she is, how delicate. “I’ve been telling you that for years.”
“I never wanted to leave you,” she says, wiping away tears carefully. She protected me from him when she could, but I know I would’ve been fine without her. “I thought he loved me.” She laughs, dabbing tears. “I’m a stupid woman.”
“Don’t say that.”
“You look good, Jensen.” She licks the dried blood from her lips. “You look healthy, strong.”
What she’s saying is she’s not used to seeing me without so much as a bump or bruise.
“You doing okay?” she asks.
I don’t have time to get into it with her. “More or less.”
“Good for you.” She cups her hand above her eyes, shielding the morning sun.
“What are you doing here, anyway? You know you could get in a lot of trouble coming here.”
“I had nowhere to go, Jensen. I finally left him. For good.” She holds my gaze with those helpless, puppy dog eyes, the ones that lured me in each time. We were both broken and fucked up in our own ways, suffering years of abuse at the hands of the men who were supposed to protect us. She’d mentioned one night that her daddy used to touch her when she was little, and I’m certain that Josiah knew damn well how to give her just enough of his bullshit-flavored love to fill the void that left her emotionally stunted.
“There’s got to be a women’s shelter around here,” I say.
“I don’t want to go to one of those,” she says without hesitation.
I want to help her. I do. “You can’t stay here. Kath wouldn’t allow it. Plus, there’s no room.”
And I’m not in a position to be asking personal favors at the moment…
“What about your sister in Provo?” I ask.
“She won’t speak to me.” Juliette hangs her head. I know she had a falling out with her sister years ago, though she never went into detail. I get the feeling she’s been a disappointment to a lot of people over the years, but she’s a product of the cards she’s been dealt. No one should blame her for that. Underneath her fake boobs, stripper-blonde hair, and layers of caked up makeup, she’s got a heart of gold. People prey on women like her because they’re easy targets.
“Why don’t I help you?” It’s the best I can do. “I’ll go with you, kind of help explain the situation. Mediate a little. Once she sees you, once she hears what you’ve endured over the years, she won’t be able to turn you away.”
Juliette’s shoulders rise and fall as she sucks in a long breath. She hangs her head, her shoes scuffing against the pavement of the driveway.
“But first, let’s go file a police report. Josiah Mackey might own the Charter Springs police department, but he doesn’t have any weight up here.”
We head to the police where they take Juliette’s statement, give her a fresh change of clothes, and photograph damn near every square inch of her bruised and battered body.
It’s a long process involving tears and retellings of harsh memories neither one of us wanted to recall, but there’s a spring in her step when we walk out, and I know we did the right thing.
“I don’t think I could’ve done that alone.” She flicks the business card of her assigned caseworker as I walk her to her car. She’s going to meet with her first thing Monday, and she’s been told this lady will help her find housing and hook her up with other resources to help get her on her feet.
“Just promise me, no matter what, you’ll never go back to that bastard.”
“I promise.” She drags her fingers across her chest, making an “X” and then crosses her fingers. For whatever reason, I believe her this time.
“Ready to go to Provo?”
She combs her nails through her hair, sweeping her platinum hair into place and staring toward the sunset. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
CHAPTER 28
WAVERLY
“I’m on your side, you know,” Bellamy says after a solid half hour of silence. Her hands grip the steering wheel of her Toyota, perfectly placed at ten and two. She’s been checking the rearview mirror every other second, and by the way she’s acting, you’d think we’re being followed.
She’s on a mission, one of my father’s loyal minions. I should’ve known not to trust a girl with secrets as deep as they are wide. I wouldn’t put it past her to have been conspiring with him all along, waiting for the perfect time to arrange my marriage.
It makes sense. She didn’t want to be married off, so she put the heat on me. I wouldn’t be surprised if she were feeding my father’s paranoia about Jensen and me this entire time.
I hate my sister.
I stare out the window, my head against the glass. If I could sit further away from her, I would, but her car is small and there’s no escaping. Maybe when we stop for gas, I’ll run. It would be insane and desperate, but it might be the only way.
“Waverly,” she says, “everything’s going to be okay.”
I huff, rolling my eyes. I shut them for a minute. They ache and they’re still very much swollen from my fit of hysterics this morning.
“You have to trust me,” she says.
I laugh, though it’s more of a cackle. “You’re delusional if you think I’ll ever trust you again.”
She merges into a westbound exit lane. I could’ve sworn Mom said I was going to South Dakota. “Isn’t South Dakota northeast? Why are we going west?”
“I told you. Trust me.”
CHAPTER 29
JENSEN
Right now, somewhere in Charter Springs, an arrest warrant is being made for Josiah Mackey. The Charter Springs Police Department may have been able to sweep his dust under the rug for the last decade, but not anymore. Now that another department is involved and human services employees in Whispering Hills have been assigned to the case.
The officer who helped Juliette promised Josiah would be sent away, though it didn’t sound like he’d be gone all that long. Juliette was okay with that though. The crumbling of his gilded reputation and the promise of a protective order was enough retribution for her.
It’s an hour and a half to Provo, and I follow her in my truck. Her sister lives in a quaint little subdivision with a waterfall at the entrance and one of those generic names like “Maple Valley.”
Her house is big, with a sweeping two-story entrance visible from the outside. It’s dusk now. Most people are eating dinner and settled in for the night. Her sister, Charlotte, isn’t expecting us, but I dare her to try to turn away her mangled sister.
“You ready?” I take Juliette’s hand as we walk up the windy, landscaped sidewalk to her sister’s front door. We pause for a moment before ringing the doorbell. A yippy dog barks and rushed footsteps pad closer. The lock clicks and the door swings open. A woman, the spitting image of Juliette—only with darker hair and a much flatter chest—stands before us.
“Charlotte?” Juliette’s voice is a timid squeak.
Juliette’s hand cups over her mouth, her eyes dart between both of us. “My God, Juliette. What happened to you?”
Juliette breaks down into tears before she has a chance to speak a single word, and I place my hand on her lower back, gently nudging her closer to her sister. She doesn’t need me anymore, she needs Charlotte. And Charlotte should be the one comforting her this time. It always should’ve been Charlotte.
“Come in, come in,” Charlotte squints at her sister, as if it’s painful for her to see her in such poor condition.
Good. It should be.
“You okay or do you still need me?” I whisper into her ear. “I’ll come with you, if you want.”
Juliette looks at her sister and then back at me, her lips inch up. “I think everything’s going to be fine, Jensen. Thank you.”
She kisses my cheek, and I let her go.
This time, it’s forever.
***
I pull into Kath’s driveway a little after eight. The house is dark, save for a small light coming from the living room. I do my best to enter quietly, since the twins are in bed by now.
“Jensen.” Kath stops me by the stairs, appearing out of nowhere. “Where’ve you been?”
“Had to help a friend.” I’m not sure how she’d feel, knowing I left without telling anyone where I was going and spent most of the day with Juliette. She wouldn’t understand, so I won’t bother explaining anything.
“Next time, tell me if you’re going to be gone.”
“Were you worried about me, or something?” I laugh, mostly because the idea of her worrying about me is hilarious.
She folds her hands and then crosses her arms, shifting her weight between both feet. Her eyes scan mine. “With everything that happened today, I just need to know where you are at all times.”
“I’m tired,” I say, pointing to the stairs. “Mind if I head on up?”
She brings a nail to her mouth and nibbles. “Don’t wake your brother.”
Kath’s acting squirrelly; then again, it’s nothing new for her. All I want to do is go to bed, wake up in the morning, and see Waverly at school. Until then, everything is in limbo and nothing else matters.
CHAPTER 30
WAVERLY
Bellamy takes the exit toward downtown Salt Lake City. We are most definitely not driving to South Dakota.
Maybe this is where Harold is picking me up? Maybe I’m getting on a plane and flying there? They wouldn’t take me to an airport, though. Too obvious. Too many opportunities to run, and you can’t force someone onto a commercial airplane without making a scene.
My palms sweat. I rub them against the front of my jeans. I’m sitting up now, paying attention to every detail, every turn. We drive another five minutes before Bellamy gets off on an exit, veers right, and pulls into and underground garage and into a reserved parking space.
I’m afraid to ask what happens next. This feels like a transaction, and of course it would happen underground. I’m being taken against my will and handed off, forced to marry someone I’ve never met.
“Get out.” Bellamy says lightly. She pops her trunk revealing two suitcases, though I only recalled Mom packing the one.
My nose wrinkles, and maybe the question is irrelevant, but I have to ask. “Why are there two?”
A man dressed in a black suit climbs out of a dark limo parked next to us, and I’m not sure how I hadn’t noticed it before. The windows are tinted and obscure, and I’m not sure who’s inside. For all I know, it could be Harold and his wives.
The well-dressed man walks around the car, opening the passenger door, and out emerges another man. With a fitted, navy suit and a long, skinny tie, he checks the chrome watch on his left wrist and flashes Bellamy a dazzling smile. This man, who looks nothing at all like a guy who’d be named Harold from South Dakota, steps toward my sister and grazes her cheek with his lips. “You’re on time. Very good.”
The driver of the limo grabs both of our bags and places them gently in his trunk.
My feet remain planted, digging into the concrete floor as best they can. “Bellamy, you going to tell me what’s going on now?”
She faces the man who greeted her. His dark hair is slicked into place with product, combed neatly and parted on the side. His rich cologne subtly fills the muggy garage air. He could easily fill the pages of a men’s fashion magazine if he wanted to, and he’s looking at my sister like she’s the center of his universe.
Bellamy inhales softly, her eyes lighting as they dance between the man and myself. “Waverly, this is my boss, Dane Townsend. He’s going to save us.”
***
The limo takes us across town to a sweeping estate on the outskirts of town. A guarded, eight-foot-tall gate protects this fortress, which from what I can see seems to be modeled after an eighteenth century French chateau. It’s mostly white with baroque ornamentals that I recognize from my Art History class.
A tree-lined drive sweeps us up toward a two-story porte-cochere.
The driver comes around to our side and pulls the door. “Welcome to Golden Oak, the estate of Mr. Dane Townsend.”
He takes our hands one-by-one, gently guiding us out to where a blanket of intricately laid herringbone marble directs us toward a staffed entrance.
“Welcome.” A man dressed in a butler’s suit holds the door open for us. “We’ve been expecting you.”
I try not to ogle too much, as I know it’s rude, but every square inch of this place is outfitted in marble, gold, and the most fabulous look-but-don’t-sit furniture I’ve ever seen. A Renoir painting rests above a marble buffet table in the entry, and there must be a hundred white roses sitting pretty in an extra-wide, crystal vase below it.
Dane walks up behind Bellamy, placing his hand gently on her middle back. She fights a half-smile, pretending his touch doesn’t affect her.
I know better.
“Mathilde,” Dane calls out. A middle-aged woman with gray hair pulled into a ballerina bun walks out into the foyer, her hands folded neatly at her hips.
“Oui, Monsieur Townsend?” Her accent is French, her tone pleasing.
“Please show our newest guest to her room.” Dane hasn’t left Bellamy’s side.
Newest guest?
I follow Mathilde up a sweeping, winding staircase and down a long corridor, passing door after door until we reach one on the end. I swear we’ve walked at least a quarter of a mile just to get here.
“This will be your suite,” Mathilde says. “Bronson will bring your luggage from the car. Feel free to wash up, and then meet us in the dining hall for dinner by six o’clock sharp.”
Mathilde leads me into the room, which is fit for a princess. A king-sized bed with a million fluffy pillows anchors the room. Five floor-to-ceiling windows cover the far wall, and an en-suite bathroom is tucked away through another door.
“Thank you,” I say. Mathilde goes to show herself out, but I stop her. “Mathilde, can you please send my sister in here?”
“Yes, mademoiselle.”
I explore my surroundings, mesmerized at the way so much beauty can be crammed into one luxurious suite.
“Hey.” My sister stands in the doorway a few minutes later, a coy smile on her face. “Still hate me?”
“What is going on? I’m so confused.”
She shuts the door behind her, slinking across the room and climbing onto my bed. “Dad’s been planning to marry you off for a while. He was never going to let you go to college. I overheard him talking to our moms about it a few months ago, and then again, not long after Mr. Waterman came over.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you’d have ruined my plan.”
“This was your plan?”
“You act surprised.” A hand slinks to her hip as her blue eyes dance. “It took a lot of careful forethought, and a little bit of sacrifice, but I waited for the right time and then I made it happen. We Miller girls were bred to be patient.”
“So, Dad thinks you’re driving me to South Dakota?”
She grins, like she’s just pulled off some mastermind heist. “He won’t know for another day or two that we didn’t make it, and by then, he won’t know where to find us. At least, not for a while. Should buy you some time to figure things out.”
“Where’s Jensen? Does he know?” I miss his voice, his touch. Not knowing where he is or what he’s doing kills me.
“He doesn’t know anything yet.” Bellamy tucks her chin, speaking slowly. “We had to be cautious.”
“You have to tell him where I am, Bell. He’s probably worried sick looking for me.” My hand clasps at my heart, pressing against the squeezing sensation in my chest. I never knew it was possible to miss someone this hard.
She tilts her head to the side, a knowing smile warming her face. “I knew you loved him. I knew you wouldn’t want to be away from him.” She places her hand over mine. “You’ll see him very soon. Trust me.”
CHAPTER 31
JENSEN
Waverly’s car is still parked when I leave to fill up my truck Monday morning, and when I return, Gideon’s back from breakfast. He waits until Kath leaves the room before telling me Waverly wasn’t there this morning. Even at six years old, the kid knows something’s up.
I have to find her, and if I know Mark Miller, she’s long gone by now. But I don’t care.
I will find her.
And Mark-fucking-Miller will be sorry he fucked with me.
***
“Where the fuck is she?” I storm into the main house, damning Mark’s bullshit decree and demanding an answer from one of his brainwashed wives. “Where’s Waverly?”
Jane and Summer exchange looks. Neither making a sound.
“Jensen,” Jane walks up to me, placing her hand out as if it had the power to stop me. “You know you’re not supposed to be here.”
“Me being here is the last thing you should be worrying about right now. Where is she? What’d he do with her?” I push past them and charge up to her room. “Waverly!”
“You can’t be up there,” Summer calls. “Jensen, you heard the rules. Mark doesn’t want you here.”
She’s up here. I know it. Every ounce of me ignores their powerless commands.
Her room is empty. Her bed is made. Her stack of books rest on her nightstand untouched. I yank open her dresser drawers, most of them empty. Her closet is half-empty as well. When I return to the kitchen to confront Mark’s three accomplices, they’re nowhere to be found. Those fucking cowards are hiding from me. Mark undoubtedly gave them strict orders, anticipating this would happen. He might be a step ahead of me now, but I will find her.
***
“Liberty.” I storm up to the front desk at the garage. “Do you have Bellamy’s cell phone number? Her work phone? I need to reach her.”
Fuck. Right now would be a great time to know where the hell Bellamy works.
“Okay, will somebody please tell me what the hell is going on?” Liberty’s hand flanks her hip and she laughs.
“I need the number, Lib. I know you have it.”
“I don’t. She doesn’t give it to anyone. It’s, like, some kind of private line between her and her boss. I don’t get it.”
The phone rings and Liberty answers, scheduling an appointment with a client and then proceeding to casually shoot the shit. She twirls the cord around her finger, laughing, and then reaches for a set of keys. She drops them in front of me without so much as an explanation.
I flip them over to reveal a BMW logo. No other identifying information or so much as a house key accompanies this set. I arch a brow and mouth, “What is this for?”
She hangs up. “Bellamy came by yesterday and dropped these off. You’re supposed to get in that white BMW sitting out front, press the ‘home’ button on the GPS, and follow the directions.”
