Page 100 of Laurels and Liquor

But then there’s a gentle hand on the middle of my back, and the smell of tobacco hits my nose moments before a voice rings out, low and smooth.

“It’s okay, petal. It’ll all be over soon.”

Chapter fifty-two

Rhett

Mudfliesoutfromunder Caleb’s tires as we pull into the makeshift parking lot outside of The Garden. I’ve been buzzing with barely contained rage ever since we left Wickland House, and I don’t even wait for the vehicle to come to a complete stop before I’m throwing the door open and jumping out. My shoes sink into the soft ground, and I have to blink through the soaking rain pelting me as I stalk toward the front doors, which sit slightly ajar. I’m about to charge straight inside when Caleb grabs my arm and pulls me behind him. I growl, but he pulls out his gun and nudges the door open, checking the corners before motioning me forward.

We move on silent feet, water dripping from our clothes and onto the plastic under us as we enter the foyer. The sound of the rain echoes strangely around the high ceilings and empty space, and I can’t hear anything beyond our breathing and footsteps. The plastic is doing an incredible job of hiding any sounds of voices or movement.

“Two floors,” Caleb mutters.

I grunt an affirmative reply. “She could be anywhere,” I reply, just as softly.

“Split up. We’ll cover more ground,” Caleb instructs, his accent more pronounced with his seriousness.

“You go up,” I say, nodding in agreement.

Caleb doesn’t respond, heading around the perimeter of the room toward the grand staircase directly across from the main doors. I look around, my eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness better now. The central part of the room is mostly clear, with scaffolding towering high above to allow workers to reach the rafters. I know one side of the room has a bank of doors that lead into the ballroom, while the other has doors leading to lounge spaces and storage rooms. Clearing the ballroom is going to be a task, so I’ll check off the smaller rooms first. Edging through the shadows to the right, I keep my eyes and ears open for any sign of movement, though it’s nearly impossible to hear anything over the rain.

The first room I find is an office, stacked high with boxes of furniture in need of assembly. There’s hardly room to swing a cat in here, let alone hide, so I close the door and move on. The next room is empty save for an industrial work light, powered off at the moment. My heart beats a wild tempo in my throat as I move from room to room, each as still and silent as the last. Maybe Mateo is wrong, and she’s not here. If so, we’re wasting time.

I pause at the corner of a hallway that leads down toward the row of suites set aside as spaces for bridal parties to prepare in, checking for any signs of life. I dare not call out for Lydia; I’d might as well shout for Seth to come and find me. It’s better if I ambush him, not the other way around. The space is only lit by the watery light that’s able to make it in through the rain from the street, casting deep shadows behind stacks of boxes and covered furniture. I drop to a crouch, moving from cover to cover as I make my way toward the first door, my entire body alive with adrenaline. The building creaks as the wind picks up, and I use the sound to mask my movements into the first room. The light is even weaker in here, and I nearly pull out my cell phone to use as a flashlight before I think better of it. Light would just as surely announce my presence as shouting.

A scuff of a shoe on plastic makes me freeze, and I duck behind a pile of boxes, hoping I’ve hidden myself fast enough. I wait, trying not to breathe too loudly, but no other sound comes. I give it another few seconds before I move again, pulling back a sheet to look under a table. But then, there’s running footsteps right behind me. The space is crowded, and I don’t move fast enough. A massive weight jumps on my back, one arm banding around my throat to wrench me upright. Sour limes and rotting fruit fill my nose even as I struggle to breathe and throw off my attacker. Then there’s a sharp stab of pain in my left shoulder, only there for a moment before I manage to connect with someone’s ribs with my elbow, making them cough and pull back.

I whip around, reaching for whatever stabbed me. My heart sinks as I pull out a syringe, the plunger down. Looking up, I find Seth grinning like a madman.

“One down, two to go. I hope your friends join us soon. I’ve missed them so much,” Seth drawls, half laughing.

Oh, no. What the fuck did he give me? I take a step toward him, but my head spins, and I stumble like I’ve run into an invisible wall. It’s like there’s something in my chest, its tiny claws shredding my organs apart like paper as it tries to escape. I gasp as my bonds start to wither, but I mentally grab hold of them and refuse to let go.

Seth, taking advantage of my momentary distraction, charges forward, dropping his shoulder. I manage to spin partially out of the way, but it still knocks the wind out of me, even with a glancing blow. With more grace than I would have thought possible, he stops and pivots, and I can’t move fast enough to escape his arms as they lock around my waist. The already dizzying effect of the drug is only intensified as Seth lifts me off the ground, and up over his shoulder, slamming me into a table. I land on my tailbone, and my limbs go numb for a minute as the pain ricochets up my spine.

I look up in time to see Seth get back on his feet and turn, winding up with a soccer kick aimed straight at my face. My instincts take over and I barely manage to catch his foot in midair, using his own momentum to hurl him backward. Fortunately, there isn’t any furniture behind him to break his fall. There’s a sickening crack as his head smacks against the concrete floor, and I give it two long heartbeats while I get to my feet to see if he’ll get up again. When he doesn’t, I stumble toward the door but stop short as his words finally sink in.

One down, two to go. Shit! He’s got more of this drug.

As I hustle back over to where Seth is sprawled out on his back, I can’t deny the disappointment as I realize he’s still breathing. I get my first good look at him, and I’m frankly repulsed by what I see. He’s spent his bribe money on more cosmetic procedures than I can identify with my quick glance, leaving hardly any of his original features untouched. The overall picture is that of a hulking brute of a man, almost a caricature of masculinity. Is this truly what he believes to be his ideal appearance?

I let out a triumphant gasp as I feel two more syringes and a vial in an inner pocket of his jacket, pulling them out and clutching them tight in a fist as I head for the door. I’m both hot and cold at the same time, and my drying clothes don’t help the feverish trembling in my limbs. Managing to get out into the hall and back to the foyer, I lean heavily against a set of scaffolding, trying to figure out what to do next. I know where Seth is, so I could shout for Caleb, find out where he is, and we could search together. Or we could secure Seth to make sure he can’t get free before we find Lydia.

I’m in the middle of debating when, out of nowhere, a fist connects with the back of my skull, sending me flying forward, and I only just get my arm out in time to prevent my face from breaking my fall. I try to get up, but a heavy kick to my back sends me down again. And this time, I lose my grip on the drugs, sending them skittering off toward the doors.

“Should have done this years ago. It’s about time someone brought you down a fucking peg,” Seth snarls, jumping on my back as I try to make my way toward the last place I saw the vial.

His words strike something in my core, igniting a fire that, until now, has been smoldering in the background. If it’s a fight Seth wants, then it’s a fight he’s going to get. I roll onto my back, arms up to guard my face as he rains down blow after blow, but I have patience. And when the time is right, I pull my fist back and catch Seth’s jaw, stunning him long enough to push him off me and get up into a crouch.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” I spit before launching myself at him with a savage snarl.

Chapter fifty-three

Lydia

Mymindrejectsthewords, the voice above me. No. This isn’t real. I’m hallucinating again. But as I scramble away, turning around to look back, the figure standing there is as real as I thought Jason and Lex were only moments ago. Darren’s copper hair burns like fire in the harsh light of the work light, his lanky figure rising impossibly tall as he unfolds from his crouched position. I shake my head, trying to clear this vision so I can focus on escaping. But no matter how hard I try, he’s still there.

“You just had to misbehave, didn’t you? If you’d done as your daddy told you, then we wouldn’t be here, and I wouldn’t have to do this,” Darren drawls, disappointment dripping like acid from every word.

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