Decker took a step closer to us, his fists were clenched like he was trying to grit back the words begging to spew from his lips. “I bet you were just waiting to step in and help out,” Decker replied. He stood directly in front of Maximillian, and I shoved my way between them. This was getting ridiculous. My hand touched Decker’s chest, and I felt him shudder at the touch and let out a hiss.
“Someone has to help her,” Maximillian growled.
Decker took another step forward and raised his fist, stopping once he realized we were in an open hallway. “Careful, Max.”
“You be careful, Mr. Harris,” Max retorted.
Decker rolled his neck and straightened his tie. We both looked utterly wrecked. There was a bruise forming on his neck and a lipstick stain on his collar. “You better go to lunch, Mr. Hemsworth. I’m not going to ask twice.”
“I can’t do this,” I whispered to myself, but Maximillian heard. I wanted to punish my heart for fleeing from what was giving it a pulse.
“Fine. Have a nice day, Mr. H,” Maximillian replied darkly. Grabbing my wrist, he pulled me away from the source of my broken heart and toward the lunchroom. Every step away from Decker felt painful. It was like I was walking through thick mud. I didn’t want to be away from him, but I knew I couldn’t stay. I was trying to walk away and hold on at the same time. There was a war brewing between my soul and my head. I wasn’t sure which would win. He was chaos to my heart, and I was poison to his realities.
I took one last glance at Decker from over my shoulder and nearly ran to him at the sight of his stormy expression. There was lightning in his eyes. Maximillian kept pulling me away.
Once Decker was out of sight and we were near the lunchroom, my phone started ringing in my pocket. I pulled it out to check who was calling me during the day. The only people I ever spoke to were Lance, Decker, and Maximillian. It was a number I didn’t recognize, but I picked it up and answered anyway. “Hello?”
“Blakely! Do not listen to them—”
My stomach sank when I realized it was my father on the other line. His voice was scratchy and worn as if he’d been screaming. “Dad? Dad!” I was screaming into the phone. The answering silence was too loud, and my mind was morbidly interpreting each second that passed where he didn’t speak.
“I think that’s enough,” a dark voice answered that didn’t belong to my father. You could almost hear the evil in his tone, it was burdened with bad intentions. My stomach sank, and I nearly fell to my knees in the middle of the hallway. Maximillian was watching me in shock with his mouth hanging open. “I’m assuming this is Blakely, correct?” they asked.
“Yes, this is her,” I stuttered. “What have you done with my dad?” I bit the inside of my cheek to calm my nerves, knowing that I needed a level head to navigate this unexpected call. Blood pooled in my mouth, but I didn’t care.
“We have your father. He has a debt to pay, and it looks like you have the means to pay for it.” A debt? What did that even mean? Was he talking about money or something...else?
I felt hands on my shoulders as Maximillian forced me to look him in the eye. My wide eyes stared at him as I spoke on the phone. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, I have no money. I’m a fucking waitress! Where is he?” Although I’d been able to save up some cash, it wasn’t nearly enough. If they wanted money, I sure as hell didn’t have any to spare.
“Don’t play stupid with me, Blakely Stewart,” the dark voice answered. Maximillian reached for my phone, but I shoved him away. I needed to hear everything, so I could make sense of it all. “We’ve been watching you. I know that brother of yours has a fat wallet,” he added. “All you have to do is bring me fifty grand, and the debt will be paid. If you don’t, your father will pay in blood.”
“I-I need proof of life. And where will I bring it? How will I even—”
“I’ll send you a photo of your father, and you’ll figure it out. You attend that fancy school, don’t you? I’m sure you can use that pretty head of yours to find a solution that doesn’t end in your daddy’s death. Hurry.”
The line went dead before I could rush out my confusion and excuses. There was no way I could come up with fifty thousand dollars at the drop of a hat. “Blakely? What’s going on?” Max asked while shaking me once more. My phone pinged, and a photo of my father came through with an address and a time. Dad had two black eyes, a busted lip, and a gash along his forehead. He was hunched over as if he couldn’t hold himself up. A choked sob escaped my chest the moment I saw it. The address was for a place in Memphis, and the time said five p.m. tonight.
A million thoughts raced through my mind as I tried to make sense of everything. Maximillian’s voice was muffled compared to the roaring in my brain. I couldn’t go to the police. The men keeping him captive would undoubtedly kill him. Not to mention, cops didn’t particularly care about convicted felons on parole. I wanted to run to Decker, explain to him what was happening, and beg for his help. But I didn’t feel like we were okay enough for me to ask him.
Lance. I had to go to Lance.
Shit, I couldn’t go to Lance. He was in Louisiana. Fucking Louisiana. He’d texted me this morning that he had to meet with his client there. My brain was working through solutions like this was a final exam.
“Fuck, Blakely. Tell me what’s going on. You looked terrified!” Maximillian said louder.
“I have to go,” I answered.
“Like hell you do! I heard what was going on. What’s wrong with your dad?”
I glanced down at my phone once more and stared at the broken, battered photo of my father. “It’s safer if you don’t know,” I finally answered before shrugging out of his grip. I started jogging down the hallway as Maximillian called after me. I needed to get to my dad. I couldn’t afford to lose the one parent I had left.
31
Decker
Everything hurt.
My head.
My heart.
My fucking chest.
If this was what love felt like, then count me out. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I wasn’t supposed to fall for a girl that was too young, too off-limits. I risked my job and my best friend for what, pain?
Everyfuckingthing hurt. But I knew that I’d do it again in a heartbeat. The worst part about it all was the consolation prize of knowing that she was right. I had to sit here and witness her mutual pain, and the look on her blotchy, tear-stained face wrecked me. The only reason I didn’t drive to Rose’s house last night and demand she stay with me was the fact that she was doing the right thing. I wasn’t courageous enough, strong enough, or good enough for Blakely Stewart. She gave me an ultimatum, and once again, I was too cowardly to bite the bullet and take away her pain.
And I knew I hurt her. No one wanted to feel like a secret. She repelled the idea of being anything like her mother, and our relationship was selfish. I understood why she did what she did and how she did it, but it didn’t make the pain go away.
After guzzling whiskey like it was water last night, I convinced myself that I was right for not wanting to be honest about our relationship. I told myself that risking my job wasn’t worth it, even though I knew damn well I’d quit in a heartbeat for her. I was an educated man. I could survive this. She was worth surviving this for.