Page 89 of Ruthless Rebel

I pat her back, leaning down and whispering into her hair. “I won’t, I’m sorry.” But when I pull away, her eyes are still encased in shadows, it’s only then I notice the tension in the room. “What is it? What happened?”

Her eyes flick to Ash, before she sighs and moves back around the island, sliding a large envelope I hadn’t noticed before across to me. “It was delivered to the funeral home late last night,” she replies, and as I flip it over, I note it has Logan’s name scrawled across it, in what I can only presume is blood.

Motherfucker.

“From what we can tell she delivered it herself, but she managed to evade cameras as she left, we don’t know where she went,” Zack grunts, clearly pissed at not being able to find them, but only one word sticks out in my mind.

“She?” I ask, and they all share a confused look.

“Didn’t Ash tell you?” Zack asks, looking at his brother, but when I follow his stare, Asher just shakes his head.

“Yesterday wasn’t the day for this shit,” he snaps, stomping to the coffee machine, but before he can pour himself a cup, Marcus is up and doing it for him, much to Asher’s annoyance of course. He takes a deep slug of his coffee before he sighs, “It was Sierra Banks.” The four words have me blinking back in confusion, as he mentions the name of one of our clients. “Well, it was who we know as Sierra Banks, we don’t know her real name. She stole Sierra’s identity two years ago, and has been passing as her ever since, we can only assume it was all for the end game of getting closer to you,” he adds, but still I’m confused.

“I don’t understand, I only met her at the office, I didn’t recognize her from anywhere, so what the fuck does she want with me?” I ask, looking between all of them, but they just shrug, as I look back to the envelope in my hand.

Ripping it open, I find a note and a burner phone, with only one number programmed into it. Ignoring the paper, I dial the number and put it on speakerphone, before anyone can say another word.

It only rings a few times before I hear her voice. “I was starting to think you had forgotten about me, baby,” she purrs, sounding nothing like the polite and friendly woman I met during her meeting with Asher, and it’s only now I remember her interest in me.

“How could I forget about you when I didn’t even think about you to begin with,” I clap back, the anger building inside of me, but I know people like her, I am people like her, and I know what it’s like to play with your food.

“What’s the matter, baby, aren’t you enjoying my games?” She asks with a giggle, and I watch as both Arthur and Zack wordlessly curse at her nonchalant killing of Logan, but I know what I have to do.

“I can’t play your games properly if I don’t know the rules,” I tell her, and she sighs at me instantly.

“That’s the problem with you, Lincoln, you have too many rules. It’s why you couldn’t save that boyfriend of yours, the same way you couldn’t save your mother.” Her words aren’t malicious, or said with intent to hurt, in fact, she says them as casual as if she were talking about the weather, and my hands itch to be around her fucking neck.

“What’s the next game?” I ask, pulling her attention back on track, and I swear I hear the smile in her tone.

“Oh, that’s easy, baby, I’m bored of all my toys and practicing my craft. Now I want the real thing.” Me, she wants me. I don’t say anything, my mind working overtime trying to figure out why she is doing this, why me. When I still don’t respond, she pushes on. “Come on, Lincoln, play with me, I know you want to,” she teases, and it makes me sick.

Logan is dead and she thinks this is a game.

“The only thing I want from you, is to feel the life slipping from your body with my hands around your neck,” I snap, not able to contain my temper any longer, but all she does is moan out in pleasure.

“Oh, baby, don’t threaten me with a good time,” she gasps, her breaths now coming in pants as she adds, “Come on, Lincoln, why don’t you come and face me like a man.”

I inhale a deep breath, trying to control my temper, as my family all watches with baited breath, no doubt tracking every word she says. “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me where that is?” I ask, and she laughs maniacally.

“You know, you have a certain reputation here in Black Hallows and its neighboring town. In fact, when I whispered your name to people, I saw fear in their eyes. They see you as a ruthless monster, but all I see is a pathetic little boy,” she grunts, and I hear some shuffling in the background that I try to zero in on. “You know, your father would have already found me by now, and had me strapped to that little table of his,” she taunts, not realizing her mistake, or maybe she does, but it doesn’t matter, because now I know exactly who she is, and more importantly, I know where to find her.

My father’s murders were covered up, because he had friends in the right places, and with his son and heir not saying a word to anyone, there was no one to dispute what they said about him. Only four people knew the truth about what happened the night I killed him, and two of them are already dead.

“When I get my hands on you, you’re going to wish he’d killed you first,” I warn, my family still not fully understanding who she is or how deep this truly goes, because I am only just realizing it myself.

“What makes you think that isn’t exactly what I want?” She groans, and then the call goes dead, and all I can do is stare at the blank screen.

My eyes flick down to the note and it reads only four words.

I love you, Lincoln

The last words my mother ever said to me.

Sierra Banks is the girl from my father’s table. Her real name is Vivian West, and she is the only person to ever survive him, besides me of course, and today one of us will die just like he did.

Before anyone can even open their mouth and ask any questions, a message comes through on the phone, and when I click on it, it shows her location. I turn to move, but Zack grabs my arm and halts me in place.

“Nearly all of the men who work for Max are in the basement waiting for instruction, the Hallowed Crows are lining the perimeter, and Elle over there has that fucking psychotic Italian and his bazooka on speed dial, you are not getting out of here alone,” he tells me firmly, and I let my eyes trail across all of them around the island, noting the determination in their eyes.

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