Page 113 of Owen
I roar so loud it burns the back of my throat. “I wanted to break free. That’s all I wanted.” I fall to my knees. “I didn’t ask for any of this. This is not my fault.” I shake my head and punch the stone floor, splitting my knuckles open. “Why? Why would he do this to me?” Tears streaming down my face, I look at my friends for help. But I’m looking in the wrong place. They did all they could for me. We lost.
I failed her.
Jacob hands me the sweatshirt from the back of the sofa and wraps it around my knuckles to stop the bleeding. Emotionally bankrupt and defeated, I take one last look around the destroyed room, briefly glancing at the painting of my father.
“I have to tell Richard I can’t get him the money.” My voice sounds low and lifeless.
As I move, something shiny catches my attention.
Curious, I narrow my gaze to get a better look, then move toward the painting.
“What the fuck is that?” I ask in wonder as a sliver of silver shines through the split.
Using my good hand, I reach up to touch the painting and insert a finger into the canvas then drag it down, ripping it further, unveiling what’s behind it.
“Sweet Jesus,” Lincoln declares.
I look at the hidden safe that’s been hiding in plain sight. “Find me a blowtorch.”
33
OWEN – ONE DAY LATER
I’m standing in the office of Richard Sanderson: Satan’s spawn and top-shelf asshole.
Hands in my pocket, my newly stitched-together flesh throbs as I nervously rub Jade’s lucky poppy stone with my thumb.
“That’s all I could find.” I nervously stare at the devil sitting behind the desk with a heavy-set bodyguard off to the side of him.
It’s not enough. He knows it’s not enough.
“You’re 1.5 million short.” Unimpressed, his mouth downturned, he stares at the stacks of premium bond slips and cash I scraped together.
Not knowing the code to the safe, in the dead of night with no locksmith available, my two loyal friends and I took a blowtorch to the hinges of the cast-iron safe behind the painting.
Astounded, standing in silence, we grabbed on to one another to stop us from falling over as wads of cash, all five million of it, carefully wrapped in blue elasticated bands, came into view.
I also found two new passports, with new identities for my mother and father.
I was convinced it wasn’t suicide. He was planning to run.
After I left the hospital to get my hand looked at, I showered, then as day broke, desperate to keep Jade from harm, I pulled up outside the gated home of Richard Sanderson and demanded to see him.
“I have torn the house apart. I’ve given you the family house. You took their life insurance. I have nothing else to give you.” Summoning all the strength I can, I make him a new offer. “I will work for you to pay off the rest of the debt.” It fucking kills me that I have to do this, but there is no other way.
“Youwantto work for me?”
“No.” I can’t be anything other than honest. “But I have no other way to pay off my father’s debt. I can show you how to creativelylosemoney in the business.” Like a sacrificial lamb, I’m offering myself for slaughter. This is not who I am. I follow the rules and have stayed on the straight and narrow professionally since I started working in finance. I hate myself, and I hate him, for making me stoop so low. “When I save you 1.5 million, or make that for you in investments, then you will let me go.” My words leave a bitter taste in my mouth. “And I need your guarantee you will never lay a finger on my girls. I need to know Jade and Poppy are safe.”
This is the only solution I could think of. It means I will have to stay here in Castleview Cove until I pay the debt, because I don’t think Richard will trust me not to run. Richard rubs his forefinger back and forth across his bottom lip as he leans back in his office chair.
If he doesn’t accept, then… Bile rises in my throat. I can’t even bear to think about it.
My phone rings loudly from inside my black dress slacks. Toshow Richard how serious I am, I thought it was best to come dressed for negotiation, so I fully suited up. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I frown in confusion when I see Aunt Babs’ name on the screen, then double check the time: quarter past seven.
Why is she calling at this ungodly hour?
Knowing I’m dealing with an extremely dangerous man who can make people disappear, I ask him for permission to take the call. A man of few words, he nods, and I hit the accept button as I walk over to the window.
