Rubix came closer, his black leather jacket blazing with red thread of a rose being shanked by a dagger. “You’re home. What more do you want to know?”
I looked around the room that at first glance looked like my childhood sanctuary. My mind was full of curses while truth slipped though my frantic heartbeats as I tried to make sense of everything. “This isn’t my home.”
Rubix chuckled, sitting heavily on the edge of the mattress. “You always were smart, Buttercup.”
“Don’t! Don’t you dare use my father’s nickname for me.”
He held up his hands, showing a folded file in his right palm. “Touchy, touchy. No need to draw blood… yet.” His green eyes glittered. “You’re right, this isn’t your old room, but I thought you’d recognize it just the same.” Leaning forward in a cloud of mechanical grease and leather, he murmured, “Go on. Take a guess as to where you are.”
“I already know I’m at the Dagger Rose compound.”
He nodded. “Yes, that’s obvious. But where in the compound?”
Forcing myself not to freak out, I looked harder at my surroundings. The walls had been freshly painted to mirror mine, the bedspread as close to the one I had that it was uncanny, but the space was different, the cornicing slightly odd.
My heart charged with knowledge.
No!
This was just cruel.
Rubix knew when I’d figured it out. “Do you like the improvements? After all, Arthur was never coming home. What with serving time and then leaving to betray me even further with a rival gang, I found no reason to keep his old décor.”
He reached out and patted my knee.
I cringed away from his touch.
“I had my men decorate it for you. So you felt welcome with your own family once again.”
“You aren’t my family,” I spat. “You killed my family.”
He laughed, waving the file in his hand. “You continue believing that, princess. And while you do, how about some light reading?”
He placed it on the bedspread, his face tightening. “Inside is the truth. The complete truth. About your death, your parents’ death, Arthur’s trial, my testimony, and everything your fucking lover—my bastard son—has been up to the past four years.”
Standing, he ran his hands angrily through his short hair. “Read it, and then judge.”
“I know enough to know I hate you. You ruined my life.”
He froze, energy whipping around him. “Did I, Cleo Price? Are you sure it was me who ruined you?”
Panic drenched my system. I scrambled onto my knees. “It was you who wrote the letter. You tracked me down and brought me back. For what? What do you have to gain?”
He chuckled. “Ah, patience, little princess. You’ll find out what my plan is for you soon enough.” Cocking his head, his eyes dropped to my bare legs. All I wore was Arthur’s T-shirt, still warm from sleeping in his arms, still saturated with his scent.
Tears sprang painfully at the thought of him beaten and bleeding.
I wanted to beg Rubix to let me go—so I could make sure he was still alive.
“How did you find me?” I whispered.
Pride and black smugness filled his face. “I tracked down the FBI detective who was dealing with your case—a Mr. Davidson, I believe. He was rather tight-lipped about a burn victim who’d been amnesiac, but I got him to talk eventually.”
Chills hurt worse than any fire in my chest.
The sweet man who’d given me a second chance had been hurt or killed trying to protect my identity. All this time I thought no one wanted me—only to find out I’d been hunted by the one man intent on destroying me.
“How could you? How could you laugh and love my parents and then turn around and murder them?”
A horrible smile twisted his lips. “Like I said… don’t be so sure it was me who stole your precious family, Cleo.” Pointing at the file, he moved toward the door. “Read it and find out.”
He slammed the exit behind him. The sound of a lock twisting dispelled any hope of escape.
My head hurt, panic drenched my bloodstream at the thought of Arthur’s condition, and claustrophobia itched like a terrible enemy.
Forcing myself to keep my breathing low and even, I looked at the file.
Intolerable curiosity grew in my heart. Answers. Finally. Answers sat within reaching distance… black and white… truth.
But is it the truth?
I’d been around Arthur enough to know his need for vengeance rested on a betrayal of huge magnifications. He wouldn’t want to kill his own flesh and blood, unless they made him do something dreadful.
Something as dreadful as murder?
I sat twining and untwining my fingers.
Courage failed me as the file seemed to grow in size, throbbing with temptation. If I read it, there would be no removing the knowledge. If I read it and it destroyed me, there would be no way to piece myself back together.
Suddenly, I wanted Corrine. I wanted her easy, breezy nature, her eternal optimism and bounce. I’d been fumbling in the dark for so long I craved light. I craved normalcy.
None of this is normal.
Why had Rubix stolen me?
What did he have to gain after all this time? Unless… unless there was something in my mind that he wanted? Something I’d forgotten… or deliberately deleted because my brain couldn’t handle it?
The mood ring Arthur had given me swirled around my sweat-dampened digits. My stomach rolled at the way I’d left him.