Page 97 of The Devil's Deceit
“Yeah, he’s here. Everything okay?”
“Put him on the phone.”
I catch the hesitant intake of air, then my brother speaks. “Grace?”
“Daniel’s got Christian,” I blurt. “I don’t know where. Do you?”
“Daniel’s what?”
“He’s kidnapped Christian. Arron, if you know where he’s taken him, you have to tell me. Now.”
“I swear, I don’t know. Are you sure he’s got him?”
“Yes. Jesus, Arron. He sent me a picture.”
“What is he thinking?”
“He’s not. That’s the problem.” I fist my free hand and press it hard against my thigh. “Christian was going to tell me everything, but Daniel got to him first.”
“Tell me what he said, Grace. Word for word.”
I relay the short conversation, panic rising in my chest with every passing second that Christian is alone with Daniel. I also tell my brother what Christian said about my parents and not wanting us to think badly of them.
“Daniel said Dad would be ashamed of me.”
Air whistles through Arron’s teeth. “Don’t fucking listen to him. Dad loved you. He was proud of you.I’mproud ofyou. These last few months have been hardest on you most of all, but you’ve handled it with grace.” He snickers. “You were well named.”
A small smile pulls at my lips, but it’s gone a moment later. “What do I do, Arron? Do I tell Christian’s father?”
“No,” he’s quick to answer. “Pack your things and leave.”
“I can’t. There’s no way off the estate without a bodyguard following me.” Funny how we’d only thought of a way in and not a way out. Grief scrambles the mind. Although, in my defense, I hadn’t realized I’d have a bodyguard tailing me wherever I went. Naïve maybe, but this world is as far removed from my life as you can get. No wonder it hadn’t occurred to me. To any of us.
“Shit.” I can almost hear the cogs turning in his brain. “Give me some time to come up with a plan to get you out. In the meantime, sit tight, deny everything, and I’ll trawl round a few places Daniel could’ve gone and see if I can find Christian. Send me that picture, too. I may be able to do a reverse image search and get a bead on the location.”
“Okay. Just hurry, please. I honestly believe Christian didn’t kill our parents. I think there’s more to this story than we could ever have imagined, and Christian is the one with the key.”
The key to the truth, and to my heart. I know I’ve lost him, and I deserve to, but all I want is for him to come out of this alive.
As I hang up the phone, my legs go from underneath me, and I sink to the floor, wrapping my arms around my knees.
Please live. Please be okay.
Please don’t hate me.
Chapter Thirty-One
CHRISTIAN
A searing pain shoots through my skull, and I moan. Cranking an eye only allows the harsh florescent lights above to pierce my retina. I blink, my eyelids fluttering. Slowly, my memories return. The block in the road. The car stopping. A police officer. Smoke. Too late. Too damn late.
What the fuck happened? Where are Marshall and Dawson?
I moan again as I shift position on the uncomfortable wooden chair. My shoulders ache from being pulled behind me, and the smallest movement makes the rope around my wrists chafe.
“Wakey, wakey.” A hand strikes my cheek, and my head snaps to the right. I bite my tongue, and blood fills my mouth. “Come on, Loverboy. It’s time to face the consequences of your actions. Your privilege won’t save you this time.”
I spit blood on the floor, my vision clearing. Standing in front of me is a stranger, with dark hair, dark eyes, and a faintscar above one eyebrow. I’d guess he’s in his early fifties. Soon to be dead.
