One Wicked Night Page 12

  She sat on the floor between Stefan's legs while he sat on the couch and brushed her hair. Her friend knew just how to put her to sleep. They were going through pictures of potential sites for the second Risque store when her cell phone buzzed with a new text message.

  Flipping open the phone, she raised an eyebrow at seeing that it had been sent from her father. Myka, I need to see you. Yeah, right.

  She typed back a quick no

  It's important, I have answers.

  Answers, hmm. She stared at the phone.

  "Who's that?” Stefan asked above her head.

  "My father, he wants to see me."

  Stefan harrumphed. “Why?"

  "He says he has answers.” She shrugged. “I'm not going anywhere near his ass."

  "I think you should go hear what he has to say. At least give him one last shot to say his piece, then you can kick him out of your life for good. Because let's face it, you need to purge him."

  She chewed her lip. “I don't know..."

  "I'll go with you and we'll let Justice know where we're going in case he comes back before we return."

  Stefan was right—she needed to purge the senator out of her life. She'd hear what he had to say and that was it. “Okay.” She sent a text to her father. Where are you?

  At home.

  She turned to Stefan. “Call a cab, Stef.” I'll be there in twenty minutes.

  Halfway to her father's house, she remembered to text Justice the change in plans.

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  Chapter Sixteen

  * * * *

  The phone rang once before Justice snatched it up. “What did you learn?” He'd been on pins and needles all day waiting for Maysin to call.

  "Are you sitting down?” Maysin's voice was hushed. “And make sure Myka isn't around."

  Dread iced Justice's veins. “I'm at the car wash, Myka isn't with me."

  Maysin took a deep breath. “Almost thirty years ago, Betty Chandler was engaged to Charles Forsythe, a banker. Until literally overnight Charles was charged with murder and embezzling, and Betty married an ambitious nobody named Roger Prentiss."

  Justice waved away the workers wiping down the car and jumped in. Tires screeched as he pulled out of the car wash. “Hold on one sec, Mace. I need to park.” He drove into the parking lot of a fast food restaurant and parked. Rolling the windows up he bade Maysin to continue.

  "From newspaper clippings and TV news reels, the first few weeks he was arrested, Charles proclaimed his innocence. He said he was being framed by, and I'm quoting here, someone who wanted what he had."

  "Roger Prentiss.” Justice spat the name out. That rat bastard was the foulest of the foul.

  "No one took Charles seriously, especially when they had proof he was stealing from the bank where he worked and the dead man was his supervisor."

  "Damn."

  "He went on trial two months after he was first arrested. That same month, Betty married Roger."

  "Timing."

  "Yeah, perfect timing. Once his stealing from the bank was introduced in court, he was dead meat so he took a deal. Fifty years, parole after thirty.” Maysin paused. “He's been out five months."

  "But how would someone who spent thirty years in jail get the kind of money required to hire a hitman?"

  "Yeah, about that. He stole ten million from the bank. The authorities only recovered seven point five."

  "So I was right, Myka's father did put a hit out on her. I just didn't know which father,” He banged the steering wheel. “I have to tell her all of this, Mace. I have to tell her the man she thought was her father isn't and that her real father wants her dead."

  "I highly doubt Charles knows he's her father, J."

  "It doesn't matter—she's an innocent in all this.” The phone vibrated on his ear. “Hold on, Mace, I've got a text from Myka.” He read the message then spoke to Maysin. “She's headed to Roger, something about him wanting to explain things.” He started the car, drove out of the parking lot. “I can't let him be the one to tell her about Charles."

  "Yeah. Explain to me again why you didn't tell her this last night?"

  Justice blasted through a yellow light. “I wanted to make sure we had proof. I wasn't going to turn her world upside down on Roger's word."

  "And now she might find out you knew this and kept it from her."

  "Goodbye, Maysin.” Justice hung up the phone and threw it on the passenger seat. Maysin was creating doubt where there wasn't any. Myka would see why he didn't say anything. She would understand that he needed to be sure before he torpedoed her life.

  He shook his head, tried to shake away the sense of dread settling on his skin. There was no sense in second guessing the decision he'd made. Right now the most important thing was to find Charles Forsythe. He'd set about doing that first thing in the morning, after he and Myka talked. Charles had to be told who Myka was to him. He had to be made to understand that no one hurt Myka and lived.

  * * * *

  Her father's house was in darkness, but his car sat in the driveway. Myka shrugged at Stefan's curious stare as they climbed the front steps. Shaking her head, she pulled her spare key from her purse and unlocked the door. Leave it to her father to call her over then fall asleep. She stepped inside the house, Stefan close on her heels, and flicked on the light.

  "Ms. Prentiss, I've been expecting you."

  She whirled around with a gasp. Stefan grabbed her arm. A huge man, wider and taller than Justice, stood at the top of the stairs leading to the basement with a gun pointed at them. His head was bald, but a full gray beard covered the lower half of his face, almost touching his chest. A crescent shaped scar was etched into the middle of his forehead. Bags hung under his bloodshot eyes, making it appear as if he hadn't slept in days, while the lines on his pale face put his age at more than her father's sixty-two. The man wore dark blue overalls, his hands covered in black gloves.

  "Who are you?” She spoke around the dry fear in her throat. Stefan's grip on her forearm bruised her skin.

  "Who I am doesn't matter.” The man waved the gun to motion them forward. “This is all about you, Myka."

  She and Stefan shuffled forward as one. Ice dripped down her spine. Who was this man, and where was the senator?

  "Single file, please. Down the stairs.” The man stepped to the side as Stefan then Myka climbed down the stairs. His gun poked into her lower back as he followed.

  "What do you want? Money?” Myka's voice shook. “I can get you money."

  He laughed, pressing the gun harder against her. “Money? No, little girl, this isn't about money. It's about payback for what your father did to me. And it's about making him suffer by taking away his flesh and blood."

  Ahead of her, Stefan's steps faltered. She whimpered, screaming for Justice in her mind. Her father's enemies. It figured sooner or later one of them would retaliate, but she'd never seen this man before. What did he mean by taking away her father's flesh and blood?

  "Did you hurt my father? Where is he?” She tried to turn her head, but he cocked the gun. Myka stiffened and bit her lip to keep from crying out.

  They finally stepped down into the basement and the first thing she saw was her father. The senator was tied to a chair with ropes, a cloth in his mouth muffled his screams, and his face was beaten to a bloody pulp. His left eye was swollen shut as blood dripped from his nose.

  The senator's good eye widened when she and Stefan stepped into his line of vision. His struggles against his bonds intensified.

  "Oh, God. Father!” She rushed to his side, dropping to her knees in front of him. “What did you do to him?"

  "Mmm. Mmm.” Roger pulled at his ropes, shaking his head. His good eye blinked rapidly.

  "What did I do to him?” The man approached them and grabbed Myka by the hair. She cried out at the pain. “Why don't you ask him about what he did to me?” He dragged her by the hair to where he'd ordered Stefan to sit. Pulling a length of rope from a duf
fel bag nearby, he tied them together with their backs to each other. First their hands, then he loped the rope around their middle.

  "You'll never get away with this.” She promised as she struggled. Justice, where are you? “People know where we are.” She nodded to Stefan. “They'll find us."

  "They'll find your bodies. I didn't cater for your friend here, but I'll adapt.” The cold death in his eyes scared her more than his calm words.

  "Fuck you, you bastard,” she spat at him. “You're a freaking psycho."

  He backhanded her with such force, her head snapped back. Stefan cried out and pulled at the ropes. Over in the corner, the cloth in her father's mouth stifled his screams.

  "Show some respect for your elders, girl."

  Myka whimpered, tasting blood. Her teeth ached and her ears rang as he stepped away and pulled the cloth away from her father's mouth.

  "Don't you touch her, Charles.” Roger's voice was hoarse from screaming. “She has nothing to do with you and me."

  If Myka's face didn't hurt like a bitch, she might have smiled at the irony of the situation. It took a man holding a gun on her and smacking her around for the senator to show an inkling of softness toward his daughter.

  "She has everything to do with this, Roger.” The crazy man named Charles stood with his back to the wall, the gun pointed at Myka. “'Why don't you tell her what you did to me?"

  Roger's face lost whatever blood it still had. “No, I can't.” He shook his head.

  "This isn't a request, Rog. Tell the lovely Myka how you sent me to prison so you could get my woman. And her money."

  What? Myka squinted at her father. “What is he talking about?"

  "Tell her, Roger. Or I will start shooting."

  "God damn it, Roger. Tell her already,” Stefan shouted.

  Roger licked his split lip and grimaced. His one good eye focused on Myka. “I was friends with your mother and Charles when we were younger. I wanted her, but she turned me down, said she loved him.” He paused.

  "And what did you do, Roger? Don't stop now, Myka needs to know this,” Charles said.

  "I knew Charles was stealing from the bank where he worked, so I killed his supervisor and set him up."

  Myka blinked. Did he say— “Did you say kill?” The senator killed someone to get her mother's money?

  "I wasn't thinking clearly. I-I was using drugs and I wanted your mother."

  "Oh, my God. You killed someone and set up an innocent man.” He really was a monster. This man who fathered her had no heart.

  "Not only that,” Charles spoke up. “Daddy here was the star witness. He testified I'd told him I would kill my boss. By then he'd already married and impregnated Betty."

  "Oh, my God,” Stefan whispered behind her. “Your father is even more coldhearted that we thought. I'm so sorry.” Pity colored his words. Myka's head swam. Her father was a killer.

  "How could you?” Her voice broke as tears ran down her cheeks. “You did this for the money? Did Mom know what you did?"

  "No.” Roger shook his head, looked at Charles. “Betty had no idea, none."

  Charles pushed away from the wall and stalked Myka. “It doesn't really matter now, does it? You and Betty destroyed my life and I've waited patiently to destroy yours.” He squatted next to Myka and pressed the gun to her temple.

  Her teeth chattered as she trembled. Justice. She didn't get to say goodbye, but he knew she loved him. He'd come here because he was hired to kill her, instead they'd fallen in love. The past few days had been the happiest of her life, and she had no doubt he'd kill Charles to make him pay for her death.

  "You can't hurt her, Charles. Tell him, Myka.” Roger strained against his bonds, his undamaged eye pleading with her.

  Tell him what?

  "Tell him. Myka, please.” Roger lurched forward. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you before, sorry you had to hear it from your friend."

  ''Tell him what? What friend are you talking about?” Why was he choosing now to lose his fucking mind?

  "The man from the fundraiser, Myka. I told him last night when he came to see me. Didn't he tell you?"

  Justice went to see her father last night?

  "What is he yapping about?” Charles cocked the gun.

  "No,” Roger yelled. “She's your child."

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  Chapter Seventeen

  * * * *

  Justice pulled up to Roger Prentiss's house to find the place in darkness. He exited the car with a frown. Was there another place he didn't know about? Running up the steps, he raised a hand to knock on the front door but noticed it was ajar.

  "Myka?” He pulled his SIG from his waistband and pushed the door open wider. Stepping into the room, he brushed a palm against the wall to search for the light switch, and flipped it on. The first thing he saw was Myka's purse on the floor next to a door leading to what he assumed was the basement.

  Fear clutched his heart in an icy grip. There was no reasoning behind it, but Justice knew Myka was in trouble. He took a step toward the door. Hushed voices reached his ear. Cocking his gun, he kicked off his shoes, eased the basement door open, and crept down the stairs. An unfamiliar voice, loud and clearly unstable, reached his ears.

  "Don't fuck with me, Roger. Your lies won't help her."

  Who the fuck was talking? And where was Roger? Justice couldn't see a thing as he entered the barely lit basement.

  "I'm not lying, I'm not lying.” Roger's voice came from Justice's left. “Betty was two months pregnant when we got married."

  Ah, so the deep voice sounding slightly unhinged must belong to Charles Forsythe.

  "What are you saying?” Myka's voice wobbled. Fear and disbelief colored her words. “Are you telling me this crazy person is my biological father?"

  Justice bent at the waist to get a visual of the scene. Myka and Stefan sat on the floor tied back to back with ropes. The right side of her face was swollen. Red-hot rage rose up, choking him, but he swallowed it. He took a deep breath, his fingers clenched around his gun. Roger sat in a chair facing the stairs, also tied up. The senator didn't appear to notice Justice, all his attention—well, his one unswollen eye—was focused on the large, scruffy man in blue overalls with a .38 to Myka's temple.

  "Betty didn't want a murderer raising her child, so she accepted my proposal,” Roger told Charles.

  "Yeah, not knowing you were the murderer.” Myka shook her head as tears ran down her cheeks. “Now I know why you didn't love me, why you treated me like a second class citizen.” Heartbreaking sounds came from her throat as she sobbed. “Now I know why you hated me so much."

  "I'm sorry,” Roger cried. “I explained it all to your friend last night. He was supposed to tell you."

  "Wait,” Stefan spoke up. “Are you saying Justice knew this?"

  Fuck! He had some serious explaining to do, but Justice couldn't think about that now. He needed to get Roger's attention. They needed a distraction to get that fucking gun away from Myka's temple. As if hearing his thoughts, Charles straightened and turned to Roger.

  "You took my life, you took my woman, and you stole my daughter?” The big man's body shook with obvious rage. He pointed the gun at Roger's head. “You made her life hell, the way you did mine. Is this the way you get your kicks, Roger? By making everyone's life hell?"

  Roger shook his head, his body trembling. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Just don't hurt Myka."

  Funny the bastard would choose now to protect his daughter.

  "Do you know,” Charles said, “all I thought about for almost thirty years was making you pay by taking away what I thought you'd hold dear. Your daughter.” A self-deprecating laugh burst from his lips. “After many attempts, I finally found the name of someone who could make that happen. But it required money, the money I'd stashed from the bank. Quarter of a million dollars later, I'm awaiting word of Myka's death when I see her in the city, looking happy. Going on with her life like her days weren't numbered."
<
br />   "You saw me and Justice in Manhattan yesterday?” Myka looked up at him with wide, wet eyes.

  "Yes. I decided to do my shit myself.” Charles glanced at her, his features softening. “I thought the best way to make him pay was to have you die in front of him, by my hand. Only then would he know the damage he'd caused.” He cocked the gun at Roger. “But you don't care, do you? It's always about you, but that ends tonight."

  "No, please, don't hurt him,” Myka begged. She struggled against ropes while Stefan shushed her.

  "Myka, ssh. Don't aggravate him."

  Justice stepped down off the stairs, aiming his gun at the back of Charles’ head. Roger's eye widened.

  "Drop the gun, Charles.” Justice ignored the uniformed gasp from Myka and Stefan and concentrated on the man in front of him. Charles stiffened but didn't turn around. “If you want a chance with your daughter, Charles, you'll drop the gun. Now."

  "He needs to pay,” Charles said softly. “For his sins, he needs to pay."

  Justice moved closer on bare feet. The coldness of the exposed concrete floor almost numbed his heels. “Roger will pay, but you have to drop the gun."

  Charles shook his head. “Sorry, I can't do that.” He squeezed the trigger and Justice did the same. Roger cried out and slumped forward in his chair, blood soaking the left side of his shirt.

  Charles crumbled to the floor, dark red liquid pooled under his head.

  "No. No.” Myka screamed the word over and over. Fighting her bonds, pulling Stefan with her, she tried dragging herself toward Roger.

  "Myka. Baby, I'm so sorry.” Justice pulled his Bowie knife from his belt and rushed to her side. He slashed the rope with quick movements, freeing her and Stefan.

  "Senator!” She rushed to Roger's side. “Senator, wake up.” Blood colored her hands as she shook him upright. “Wake up."