Deceiving Lies
Page 21
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“What a pleasant surprise,” he sneered as I approached him.
“Where is she?” Slamming my hands down on the table, I leaned over it as I yelled, “Tell me!”
“You expect me to know what you’re talking about?”
I would have thrown the table if it weren’t bolted down to the floor. Rounding it, I went over to where Juarez was sitting and kicked his chair back into the wall.
“Don’t f**k with me, Juarez!” Stalking over to him, I gripped the arms of the chair he was cuffed to and leaned in so my face was directly in front of his. “Tell me where my goddamn fiancée is!”
His only answer was a sardonic smile.
“Tell me or I swear to God I will make your death slow and painful,” I growled.
“You mean like Rachel’s?” Juarez whispered.
I punched him, and grabbed the collar of his gray prison shirt to bring him closer to me. “I will end you, you son of a bitch! Where the f**k is she?” I was so far gone—my mind only on finding Rachel and making every one of the sick bastards involved in her kidnapping pay for what they’d done to her—that I didn’t even register what the yelling outside the room was about until I was being dragged away from Juarez.
“Kash, calm down,” Mason grunted as I struggled to get away from him and Byson as they pulled me back.
“Tell me where she is!”
Another mocking smile crossed Juarez’s face, and my frustrated roar filled the room.
“I will make you pay for everything that has happened to her!”
“Enough!” Mason yelled as they threw me out of the room.
I turned to go back in, but Mason slammed me against the wall and restrained me by pinning my arms behind my back.
“Kash, don’t make me put cuffs on you,” he said low. “You have got to calm down. I know you’re upset, man, I know. But you’re ruining your career, and making it worse for Rachel by doing this.”
“He knows where she is,” I gritted out, the adrenaline quickly leaving my body. “He f**king knows, Mase. He said her name!”
“Ryan! Gates!”
I turned, and my body sagged against the wall when I saw Chief standing there.
“My office. Now.”
Mason swore under his breath as he pulled me from the wall and kept my arms behind my back as he walked us toward Chief’s office. Byson was already waiting for us in there, and when Chief sat down at his desk, I knew I was about to lose my job.
WALKING SLOWLY, like I was expecting a bomb to go off if I made any noise, I stepped into the bedroom that just ten days ago had been destroyed. That just ten days ago had had a message about why they’d taken Rachel on one of the walls. That just ten days ago was considered a crime scene and had been full of officers. That just ten days ago Rachel had been taken from.
I hadn’t been in here since that day, but since then Maddie, and Mason, and my mom had come in to clean the disaster that had been left over, and paint the wall. The TV was gone—I hadn’t seen a need to replace it, since I hadn’t wanted to come back here—and so were the mirror and lamps; but other than that, there weren’t any signs that anything had ever happened.
Except one.
Rachel was still f**king gone.
The department hadn’t gotten any closer to finding her, and even though Chief had been considerate enough to give me only unpaid time off for the rest of the week . . . I was still doing things every day that were sure to get me fired at the very least. I just made sure that everything was away from the department, and that no one other than Mason knew what I was up to.
Although he had strict orders not to, Mason had kept me updated on everything about the case, and I would always be thankful to him for that. But I wasn’t sure how much more I could take.
It’d been ten days and already I felt like I was dying from what I had seen and heard. I didn’t know how Rachel was still pushing through the torture we’d seen her go through. I didn’t know how she was even still alive. And when I got her back—because I was getting her back—I didn’t know what would be left of her fiery spirit I’d fallen in love with.
Putting Trip down on the floor, I watched him take off for the bathroom and followed him into the master closet. He went right to the fake wall and began crying, and for some stupid reason, something dangerously close to hope actually sprang up in me. I tentatively reached out toward the wall, a harsh huff escaping my chest when my fingers were just inches away, and I paused.
I’m f**king crazy. She’s not going to be in there.
Shaking my head, I reached out to grab it, and yanked it back. Trip ran in, and my hand fisted around the thin material as the worst type of disappointment washed away any form of hope I may have had.
I’d known she wouldn’t be in there. I’d known, but I’d still let myself believe that by some miracle, she would.
“She’s not here, bud, come on.”
Letting the wall fall back into place, I walked into the bedroom and stared at the bed for a handful of minutes before finally sitting on the edge. Bending over, I rested my elbows on my knees, and my head in my hands—and groaned out the last week and a half’s frustrations, devastations, and heartaches.
Exhaustion finally took over my body, and without even taking off my shoes, shirt, or jeans . . . I lay back on the bed and automatically rolled over to face Rachel’s side. My heavy eyelids blinked as I looked at the empty space beside me . . . nothing about that was right.
“Where is she?” Slamming my hands down on the table, I leaned over it as I yelled, “Tell me!”
“You expect me to know what you’re talking about?”
I would have thrown the table if it weren’t bolted down to the floor. Rounding it, I went over to where Juarez was sitting and kicked his chair back into the wall.
“Don’t f**k with me, Juarez!” Stalking over to him, I gripped the arms of the chair he was cuffed to and leaned in so my face was directly in front of his. “Tell me where my goddamn fiancée is!”
His only answer was a sardonic smile.
“Tell me or I swear to God I will make your death slow and painful,” I growled.
“You mean like Rachel’s?” Juarez whispered.
I punched him, and grabbed the collar of his gray prison shirt to bring him closer to me. “I will end you, you son of a bitch! Where the f**k is she?” I was so far gone—my mind only on finding Rachel and making every one of the sick bastards involved in her kidnapping pay for what they’d done to her—that I didn’t even register what the yelling outside the room was about until I was being dragged away from Juarez.
“Kash, calm down,” Mason grunted as I struggled to get away from him and Byson as they pulled me back.
“Tell me where she is!”
Another mocking smile crossed Juarez’s face, and my frustrated roar filled the room.
“I will make you pay for everything that has happened to her!”
“Enough!” Mason yelled as they threw me out of the room.
I turned to go back in, but Mason slammed me against the wall and restrained me by pinning my arms behind my back.
“Kash, don’t make me put cuffs on you,” he said low. “You have got to calm down. I know you’re upset, man, I know. But you’re ruining your career, and making it worse for Rachel by doing this.”
“He knows where she is,” I gritted out, the adrenaline quickly leaving my body. “He f**king knows, Mase. He said her name!”
“Ryan! Gates!”
I turned, and my body sagged against the wall when I saw Chief standing there.
“My office. Now.”
Mason swore under his breath as he pulled me from the wall and kept my arms behind my back as he walked us toward Chief’s office. Byson was already waiting for us in there, and when Chief sat down at his desk, I knew I was about to lose my job.
WALKING SLOWLY, like I was expecting a bomb to go off if I made any noise, I stepped into the bedroom that just ten days ago had been destroyed. That just ten days ago had had a message about why they’d taken Rachel on one of the walls. That just ten days ago was considered a crime scene and had been full of officers. That just ten days ago Rachel had been taken from.
I hadn’t been in here since that day, but since then Maddie, and Mason, and my mom had come in to clean the disaster that had been left over, and paint the wall. The TV was gone—I hadn’t seen a need to replace it, since I hadn’t wanted to come back here—and so were the mirror and lamps; but other than that, there weren’t any signs that anything had ever happened.
Except one.
Rachel was still f**king gone.
The department hadn’t gotten any closer to finding her, and even though Chief had been considerate enough to give me only unpaid time off for the rest of the week . . . I was still doing things every day that were sure to get me fired at the very least. I just made sure that everything was away from the department, and that no one other than Mason knew what I was up to.
Although he had strict orders not to, Mason had kept me updated on everything about the case, and I would always be thankful to him for that. But I wasn’t sure how much more I could take.
It’d been ten days and already I felt like I was dying from what I had seen and heard. I didn’t know how Rachel was still pushing through the torture we’d seen her go through. I didn’t know how she was even still alive. And when I got her back—because I was getting her back—I didn’t know what would be left of her fiery spirit I’d fallen in love with.
Putting Trip down on the floor, I watched him take off for the bathroom and followed him into the master closet. He went right to the fake wall and began crying, and for some stupid reason, something dangerously close to hope actually sprang up in me. I tentatively reached out toward the wall, a harsh huff escaping my chest when my fingers were just inches away, and I paused.
I’m f**king crazy. She’s not going to be in there.
Shaking my head, I reached out to grab it, and yanked it back. Trip ran in, and my hand fisted around the thin material as the worst type of disappointment washed away any form of hope I may have had.
I’d known she wouldn’t be in there. I’d known, but I’d still let myself believe that by some miracle, she would.
“She’s not here, bud, come on.”
Letting the wall fall back into place, I walked into the bedroom and stared at the bed for a handful of minutes before finally sitting on the edge. Bending over, I rested my elbows on my knees, and my head in my hands—and groaned out the last week and a half’s frustrations, devastations, and heartaches.
Exhaustion finally took over my body, and without even taking off my shoes, shirt, or jeans . . . I lay back on the bed and automatically rolled over to face Rachel’s side. My heavy eyelids blinked as I looked at the empty space beside me . . . nothing about that was right.
