Resisting Ruby Rose (The Ruby Rose Series) (13 page)

“I was fourteen.”

My entire body froze while my mind tried to process a decent reaction. I wanted to reach out and cradle him. Or shake him out of his living nightmare. Distract him with some physical form of comfort.

“I had no father around, and no other family, so I became a ward of the state. For over a year, from my bunk at the boys’ home and a public computer at the library, I plotted my revenge. I studied what information I could find on the men charged with the crimes, using public records and not-so-public records, and by the time I turned fifteen, one of the men was dead. No one ever found his body, and no one ever gave me a second look. Except for Skryker.”

I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. A tornado of facts was sweeping me off my feet. A flurry of questions swirled: How did he do it? What kind of weapon? How did he get rid of the body? Did it soften his pain? Did it make it worse? Was there any part of him that regretted it?

Instead, I chose an easier question. “How did Skryker know you did it?”

“Not sure,” Quinn responded. “He has his ways. I was sixteen by the time he contacted me. Not only did he offer me a life outside of poverty and squalor, he offered me a chance at the second man who killed my family.”

“How did he do that?”

“The guy, Alexi Baranov, had fled England long before enough evidence had been accumulated to charge him or
I’d
had a chance to kill him.
I’d
always suspected he went back to Russia. I used to obsess over it: what could I do to get to him now that he was there?”

It was a rhetorical question, but I replied anyway.

“Nothing. You could have done nothing,” I said, playing devil’s advocate. I knew as well as Quinn did that doing nothing hadn’t been an option. It was like when
I’d
followed my Filthy Five. Something inside me—a desperate need for justice—drove me to do it. Whether it had been a “good” decision was irrelevant. Now I wanted Quinn to voice this. I wanted to know that I wasn’t alone in my ever present desire to pursue justice one or way another.

“It was never a choice for me, Ruby.” He leaned forward and put his glass on the table. “When Skryker offered me the way out, I took it without hesitation. I had no family. No money. No future that didn’t revolve around pursuing Alexi.”

“So did you get him?” I asked, barely breathing.

“Two years ago, I found him alive and well in a small town in Poland. I made sure he would never hurt a soul again.” Quinn’s voice had changed once again. From that of a vulnerable boy to a hardened victor.

I wondered if his mother and sister would be proud of who he was today. And I wasn’t sure.

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” I said, no longer wanting to hold the almost full glass of bubbling love in my hand. I put it next to his almost empty one. “No one should have to go through that.”

“But I did. And it defines who I am now.” Quinn clenched his jaw and inched toward me. “Just as what you’ve endured defines you.”

I found myself thinking of Liam and what
he
had endured. Why had I been so judgmental and short-sighted when it came to him? Liam suffered through years of abuse at the hands of his father, and when he did get the chance to protect his mother, he fell short. It wasn’t only about the money for Liam. It was about the power and the ability to set things right with his dad.

“Liam is going to go after his father, isn’t he?” I asked.

Quinn’s eyes narrowed, as if he couldn’t believe I had figured it out on my own. And maybe he was also a little hurt that I was thinking of Liam when he was the one sitting here, opening up to me.

“Yes.”

I closed my eyes for a few moments to analyze my choices. Stay with Quinn and move closer to the life
I’d
chosen. Or leave and find a way to double-check
I’d
made the right choice.

“I have to go.”

Not even Quinn, the boy who could actually have charmed my pants right off if
I’d
given him a few more minutes, could stop me.

CHAPTER 18

I sat in Fake Big Black outside Liam’s house, wondering what to do. No one was home, and Liam wasn’t answering my calls or texts. I tried to think of how I could track him down, or at least lure him into talking to me.

I also had to decide what to do about the bombardment of other calls, texts, and emails
I’d
been getting from everyone I
didn’t
want to speak to right now: Mathews, who was leaving me voicemail, wondering where I was and informing me about my mom’s steady condition; Quinn, who kept texting to make sure I was OK; and Skryker, who had sent an email verification that four million U.S. dollars had been placed in a bank account in my name, with instructions on how to access it at my convenience. I guessed Quinn had bargained for more money on my behalf, despite my sudden departure from his house.

I had rested my head on the steering wheel and was calculating my next move when a knock on my window sent my hand to the hidden console on reflex. Until I remembered—this wasn’t Big Black, and Smith (my handgun) wasn’t inside.

My heart rate slowed when I saw the salt-and-pepper beard. I rolled down my overly tinted window and bit back the string of insults I wanted to unleash on him. “What do you want?”

“Why?” Silver asked, clearly upset with me. Like I was a naughty little three-year-old who had stolen a cookie out of the jar.

“Why what?” I asked in a childish tone. He always brought out the traumatized kid in me. I never seemed to be able to act like an adult around him.

“Why did you accept the offer? I thought I made myself clear.”

“Here’s the thing,
Dad
,” I said, making myself clear. “You don’t get to say what I do with my life.”

He took a deep breath before responding. “What about your mother? Does she have a say?”

“I don’t know which mother you’re talking about, but no, neither of my mothers are in a position to influence my decision.” I began rolling the window up.

“Liam’s about to get himself into trouble,” he said, making my finger pause on the button. “Ruby, listen to me.”

I pressed the button the opposite way from what
I’d
intended.

“What do you mean?” I asked. “What kind of trouble?”

“We can’t talk about it here,” he said, looking around again. “Follow me, understand?”

I nodded and watched him walk down the street to a nondescript blue sedan. As soon as he flipped on his lights, I flipped on mine and followed him into the night.

After we drove to a marina, I followed Damon Silver onto a boat not unlike the one
I’d
gone to the night I stabbed Father Ronn to death. The memories sent chills through me, and the smell of saltwater, blood, and bleach returned to my senses as sharply as if it were real.

“So you really do live on this boat?” I asked, troubled by this fact for some reason.

“Please sit,” Silver said, ignoring my question and gesturing to a small table in the middle of the deck. The boat rocked, making me feel even more unsure of my decision to come here. I sat anyway.

“Can you please just tell me where Liam is and how I can help him?” I asked.

“Let me explain something to you first,” Silver said, taking the seat opposite me so we were sitting only a few feet apart. “The way this works, the way Skryker works, is that he uses the thing you want most as leverage. For Liam—”

“It’s revenge on his father.” I finished his sentence, wondering if he even knew the answer. I should have waited to see what he was going to say.

“OK, but Liam won’t get that opportunity until he carries out a mission or two first. So Liam was sent to Mexico, where Skryker believes Martinez is hiding out again.”

“Mexico?” I gasped. “How do you know this? I just saw Liam earlier today. How’s that possible?”

“I just know, OK?” Silver shrugged me off. “A lot can happen in a few hours. As attested by the fact that in the same amount of time you’ve given your body, life, and freedom over to a man you don’t even know.”

“Which man are you referring to?” Was he talking about Skryker or Quinn? That “giving my body” comment sounded too protective, which made me defensive.

“Look, you don’t know what you’re doing or who you’re doing it with,” Silver said in a way that sounded overbearing. I didn’t like it. He should have known how terribly un-keen I was on men telling me what I did or did not know.

“Did you bring me here to have a totally fake father-daughter moment, or did you bring me here to give me information I can use? Because if you think I’m going to sit here and—”

“I’m going to Mexico
without
you,” he said, cutting me off. “I’m going after Liam before he gets himself killed. I wanted you to know because I won’t be able to be here to watch over you like I promised.”

Why would he do that? I searched his eyes to understand why he would risk his life for Liam. And the way he looked back gave me the answer: for me.

H
e’d
said h
e’d
do anything for me. I wasn’t sure if I could believe him, but maybe I could.

“But I won’t leave you alone.” Silver stood and looked past me onto the causeway. I followed his line of vision to the approaching figure of a man. At first, I imagined that it was Jack Rose. Dressed in all black, a SWAT T-shirt, off-duty weapon at his hip. Had Damon Silver pulled some kind of magic trick out of his hat and brought my beloved father back from the dead? My heart skipped one, two, three beat
s . . .

Then I realized who it really was—Mathews.

How long had Silver and Mathews known each other? When did they decide to gang up on me? Anger swelled inside me as I thought about their back-door alliance. Regardless of whether or not it was a good thing, it was a secret. And I was sick to death of secrets.

“Joining forces, are you? I don’t need any more babysitting—or effed-up father figures,” I said, instantly regretting the spiteful words. Even if they sort of deserved them. And who said that I was just going to stay here while Silver went off to Mexico?

“We both want the same thing for you,” Silver said. “And we’ll stop at nothing to make sure you get it.”

“And what’s that?” I was really getting sick of him talking to me as if I were only entitled to half-truths. I shouldn’t join Skryker, but why? I shouldn’t go after Liam, but how come? Where were the actual reasons and details?

“A happy life.” Silver softened his gaze as if he might actually move in for a hug. Or some other expression of caring. When he realized I wasn’t ready for anything along those lines, he frowned and nodded once in acceptance. “I’m going to leave now, but Mathews will take care of you. And make sure you don’t unwittingl
y . . .
or wittingl
y . . .
do anything for Skryker that will confirm your acceptance.”

Silver walked to the stern of the boat before turning back to me. “One last thing,” he said. “Don’t touch the money.”

As he disappeared into the dark of night, I cursed him in ways that surprised even myself.

“Come on, Rube,” Mathews said, waving me off the boat. “Your mother wants to tell you something important.”

Just great.

I watched the numbered elevator lights change as we ascended each floor, not understanding why my stomach felt like it was dropping.

“Please just tell me what she’s going to say.”

“Ruby, I swear”—Mathews crossed his heart—“I have no idea. She didn’t tell me.”

“Why should I believe you? You’re a pretty good liar,” I said. “Sneaking around with Silver. Next you’ll tell me that you’ve been sleeping with Dr. T.”

Mathews rubbed his temples with his long fingers. Apparently I never ceased to agitate him.

“I believe Silver wants to protect you. Simple as that. Until Martinez is apprehended, I don’t think we can afford to turn down a man with his kind of background and skills. You’re not the only one at risk here. I have no idea why Martinez merely incapacitated my men at Big Bear when he could have just as easily killed them, because we know full well that he’s capable of taking innocent lives.”

I wondered what else he knew about Big Bear, but it didn’t seem like much. No mention of the other LeMarq nor any hint of having sniffed out all the dead bodies lining the mountaintops.

“News flash: you don’t have to tell me what Martinez is capable of,” I said, glaring at Mathews, partly to read him and partly to annoy him.

“Fine.” He stared down at me with a hint of resentment. I instantly felt like the total brat he always accused me of being. “And as for Dr. T,” he added, “it’s none of your business.”

The elevator bell rang as we hit my mom’s floor. My mouth opened simultaneously with the doors.

“Come on, you little smartass,” he said in a semi-teasing tone as he walked out, expecting me to follow.

As soon as I exited the elevator, the pressure in the air changed, and I remembered why
I’d
been so eager to escape the hospital the last time I was here. The suffering was as palpable as the stench of disinfectant.

My feet worked on autopilot, carrying me to my mother’s room despite my growing anxiety about seeing her. I really couldn’t take another bombshell. My gut told me to steel my emotions and my eyes.

“Rue, is that you?” Her voice was hoarse and low.

“Hey, Mom. You’ve got your sexy voice going,” I said. I was trying to lighten the mood, but it just came across as weird. Now, in addition to feeling afraid of the swollen black-and-blue monster across from me, I felt awkward as well.

“Come sit by me,” she said, still not opening her eyes.

Mathews had to nudge me with his hand on my back, but I finally gathered the courage to sit and take her hand. Had it only been a day since I was here? I was as shocked by her appearance as if it had been weeks.

“I’m here,” I said softly. “Mathews said you wanted to tell me something.”

Her eyes finally opened, revealing a red tangle of veins where white should be, and she clenched my hand in hers. For someone who was sedated and seriously injured, the woman still had a grip.

“Yes, I need to tell you something very important.” Her words were slow and grating, reminding me of that fateful day in the kitchen when she was trying to tell me that sh
e’d
had an affair with Martinez, and how very bad that was for my investigation. At the time, her admissions felt like the worst possible news. Little did we know how much worse the actual truth would be. “Can you excuse us, Mathews?”

“Of course,” he said, and left the room.

“Tell me,” I urged her. “He’s gone. Whatever it is, please just tell me.”

“I need you t
o . . .
move some money around for me,” she said after much effort.

“What?” I said, taken off-guard. “Money? How is this the time to be worrying about that? Also, I’m seventeen years old and have no authority or access—”

“Ruby, listen to me,” she said. “I’m not asking for you to tell me about timing or the law, I’m asking for you to save this family.”

“What family?” I couldn’t help asking. I was here out of loyalty and love, but as far as I could tell, our family had already been destroyed.

“You and me, and your father’s legacy,” she clarified, her voice husky and broken. “There’s some money in an accoun
t . . .
all the information is in the false bottom of the white wooden shoebox in my closet.”

Still holding her hand, but feeling the perspiration start to build, I bartered for some loosening of her grip by putting my other hand on her shoulder. “Mom, are you on some medication that might be making you—”

“No, listen to me,” she said, letting go of my hand and pressing the button on the rail to lift her body in a more upright position. It couldn’t have felt awesome on her broken hip, but she did it anyway. To face me. To make sure I understood the importance of her plea. “The money isn’t exactl
y . . .
clean. It was always backup. Just in cas
e . . .
and now not only do we need it, but we need to move it. I don’t know who else to turn to. I know this is a heavy burden I’m putting on you. I never wanted you to be involve
d . . .
to know. But now that you’re
a . . .
”