Page 157 of Stabby Little

Dust dances in the air as the floor creaks beneath us. Walls shudder as thunderclaps shake the ground, sending trickles of plaster crashing to the hardwood. Sirens blare in the distance, letting me know New York's issuing a severe thunderstorm warning.

A scream cuts through the house.

I grab Constantine's arm. "That's Ollie. Let's go."

We race toward the scream. I trust my gut when it tells me it comes from the basement. I muscle the door down and charge downstairs.

Rage and determination slice through me when I sense Ollie lies at the bottom of this stairwell. I don't know who the fuck is here with him or who took him from his apartment, but I'm ready to find out. I don't give a shit who it is—I'll put a bullet in their skull.

I burst into the basement… and that's when I see him.

My breath catches in my throat. No.No. This… can't be. Ollie's tied to the same rusty water pipe that Kobe was. Zip ties lash his hands and feet together and prevent him from moving. Blood drips from a bruise on his cheek and his pale limbs are matted with red scratches.

My stomach churns. How could Michael do this to Ollie? Ollie never hurt him. He's decades younger than Michael. The worst he did was escape Michael's vicious sex trafficking ring.

I curse myself for not recognizing Michael's evilness sooner. He hid in front of my eyes for so many years. All this time, he was leading one of the most evil operations known to man. He claimed he only used his warehouse to produce generic medication, but that was bullshit. How much of what he told me was bullshit? Everything?

I'm a fucking moron for not recognizing this man's true colors earlier.

I rush to Ollie. "Who did this to you?"

Ollie drags his eyes up to mine. "Grant?"

Reaching into my pocket, I retrieve my hunting knife. I slice his zip ties off, then cast them to the floor. When I free his feet, I tear him away from the rusty water pipe and set him on the ground.

I thrust my black shirt off and wrap it around his naked body. "Is Michael here?"

Ollie nods. "Yes."

"Did he bring you here?" My fingers curl into fists. "I swear to fucking God, if Michael broke into your apartment and stole you away, I'll murder him right now. He won't see the light of day again."

"Tell me who brought you here, Ollie." My voice is firm. Fierce. Packed with emotion. This boy needs to tell me who took him right this second. If he doesn't, my head will explode.

Ollie points to two bodies lying on the floor. "They did."

I whip around to where he's pointing. After propping him against the wall to ensure he doesn't fall, I march to the two bodies, then drop to my knees. The first has long, black hair with a gold watch around her left wrist that glistens when the lightning strikes. A diamond clip sits in her hair, preventing it from falling to her back. A discarded handbag lies abandoned in the spot next to her, vials of liquid lipstick and concealer rolling out.

My eyebrows furrow when I spot the silver tennis bracelet on her right wrist. It's exactly like the one I gave Linda for our anniversary six years ago. It was a gorgeous piece I picked out at Cartier and had the jeweler custom fit to her wrist.

I spin the woman over… and my jaw tumbles to the ground when I realize who it is. When I realize Miles's next to her, I barely remember how to think.

Ollie's eyes shine through the darkness. "Miles tricked me into letting him into my apartment. I was grabbing him a lemon soda when he rammed a needle into my arm. Linda stood behind him. She helped him bring me here."

Racing across the room, I pull Ollie into my arms. "Come on. We'll get you somewhere safe."

My ex-wife and son betrayed Ollie. I can't fucking believe it.

As I wrap the T-shirt I gave Ollie tight around his body, I bring my lips to his forehead. A million conflicting emotions burrow through me, each thrusting a knife through my heart. I stare at my ex-wife and son, those two people I loved more than life itself. I try to process why the fuck they did this.

Did it have anything to do with Miles's debt?

Did Michael promise to cancel it if he found Ollie?

Fuck. I'm such a goddamn idiot.

Two days ago, Miles drove to my house to meet about his drug situation. He apologized for canceling our meeting the previous week and said he was ready to speak now. He confessed he wished he'd listened to me sooner, because he never would've gotten into this mess. I told him not to worry about it—we'd figure out a repayment plan ASAP.

Before he left, I opened up to him about Ollie. I don't know why I did it because my gut told me not to. Miles went quiet, refusing to react. I thought he'd be ecstatic his best friend was back. I thought he'd want to invite Ollie over and catch up like old times. Instead, he asked me where Ollie was living—he claimed he wanted to surprise him with a gift. I told him I didn't know, but I vaguely remembered the borough he'd mentioned in an offhand comment the previous weekend.

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