I come to a stop and glare at their fucking masks. “You’re telling me I’ve given you three years of my life for you to take it away?”
“Tyson—”
“Three fucking years and all you can do is fucking nothing?” My body is vibrating with the anger bubbling in me. “How did this fucking happen?”
One of them sighs. “The best we can come up with is that Frank set you up.”
My legs give out, and I fall into the pew once again.
“He wanted you to go to prison for killing his daughter. She either went along with it, or he had her killed.”
I’m guessing the latter. She had been trying to set me up to get her pregnant. I highly doubt he killed his daughter just to put me away. No, instead, he’ll make her live the rest of her life in hiding. I rub my hands on my jeans. “So … I lose my title. Then what? You guys kick me out?”
“We are willing to give you Blackout. Free and clear. The land, the building. You remain a Lord, but you don’t have to answer to anyone.”
They might as well just cut my brand off. I snort. “A Lord is never free.” Sitting back, I look up at them. “And Frank? What about him?”
“We can’t prove—”
“I was fucking here,” I grind out. “There were at least three…four, Lords here.” I try and rack my brain to remember. There were three. Two that helped me up the stairs and another one at the top of the loft. My mind isn’t clear right now.
They remain silent.
“I’ve got text messages…”
“From an untraceable number,” the one on the right states.
“Unbelievable.” I give a rough laugh. I’ve got to give it to Frank. He fucked me over good. “And Whitney? You don’t think she’s dead?” If she’s willing to go as far as getting me to knock her up, she’s more than capable of faking her death. Especially if her father is helping her.
“If she’s not, the world won’t think any different.”
My head snaps up to look at them, and they were serious. “You really think she’s alive?” I question, and again, they say nothing.
Pacing, I stare at my bloody shoes as I walk back and forth. “I’ll do it.” What else is there for me to do? Prison for murder of a woman and an unborn child, or take what the Lords are offering me? Even if she wasn’t, her medical records will show that she is. Word is already out that I did it. Even if they remove every video or news article from the internet, the Lords still know what happened tonight. If Frank did set me up, he’ll make sure everyone knows what he wants them to think. “Under one condition.”
“Son, you’re in no position to negotiate.” One of them laughs.
The other one holds up his hand and steps forward. “What is it?”
I come to a stop and look at his mask. “I get to marry whoever I want when the time comes.”
Their masks look at one another.
“Free and clear. No initiations. No stipulations. Nothing. Who I want. When I want.” If Frank wants to fuck me, I’ll fuck him right back. Big, blue eyes and long dark hair is exactly what I want to take from him, and I’ll remind him who the fuck I am as I parade her around this town like an obedient slave with a collar and leash. I’ll make his last daughter my wife, and she’ll choke on the words that bind her to me.
“Done.”
“You set me up,”I say, more to myself than anyone. “I can’t prove it, but you had Luke, Miller, and Jackson pretend to call me for an assignment my senior year to make Whitney my chosen. You wanted me to come off to the public as an obsessed, stalker boyfriend. So when she came up dead, her phone pointed the cops directly to me.” That’s why I didn’t find Whitney’s phone on that day she had called me crying and lost. One of them had already handed it over to the cops, leading them right to me. It wasn’t a hard sell really. I had a tracker on her cell. I had been texting and calling her for days. I said some really shitty things to her during the days she would go MIA. A few of my condoms with holes poked in them were found in her purse—it too, was conveniently not at the house where I found her. They were to be used against me as I was trying to knock her up so she couldn’t leave me. I set myself up as the perfect suspect, playing right into their hands.
I stand next to the bed, arms crossed over my chest, and watch the man come to. I didn’t give him much. Just needed a little time to get him where I wanted him—stripped down and naked. He was planning on getting fucked, but I have different plans for him.
He’s on his back, spread-eagled with a gag in his mouth—he’s here to listen, not speak. His eyes open, and he looks around aimlessly for a few seconds. They meet mine, and he begins to yank on the ropes, mumbling nonsense.
“We’ve been here before,” I tell him, getting to the point. I’ve got somewhere to be. “Years ago. This all started because I filmed you with a woman in this very room. But you have to understand it wasn’t my doing.” I snort. “Like I care who you decide to fuck, but the Lords did care that you were pushing for more. Getting greedy.” I remove the lighter from my pocket, and he begins to yank harder, screaming louder. “You wanted to be State Senator, and they wanted my father to have that position. So they had me set you up with a woman and film it.”
I just recently found out that she was one of those women who went missing. “Miller and Luke killed her, didn’t they?” I found out later that she was last seen exiting this hotel with a smile on her face. I sigh, hating the fact that what I asked her to do got her killed.
The best I can come up with is that Miller followed his dad. Saw him enter the Minson Hotel with her and then watched her leave alone. He followed her to the bar down the street, made his move, and she left with him, never to be seen again. She was among one of the many women whose bodies were never found.
