Callum forced me to the floor. My cheek was crushed into the maroon rug of his office; the fibers burned my skin, then I suddenly didn’t feel it. All I felt was the way my shoulder was stretching to its limit, reaching for one of the pens that had rolled off his desk.
He whispered, “I can’t stop thinking about you, how I never got to have my way. Photos… all I was allowed was to look. So I looked, Harper. I watched you so long I didn’t see your mother watching what I was doing.”
My mother had known. She’d tried to save us.
It wasn’t suicide. He murdered her.
“Harper,” he said thickly. His cracked lips stroked my earlobe. “Stay like this, let me—FUCK!”
In a great thrust of my body I’d stabbed the pen into his cheek. Callum roared, pulling away, giving me enough room to scramble backwards towards the wall. He was between me and the door.
Standing tall, he threw the once silver but now red pen onto the rug. “You stupid slut,” he snarled. His palm clasped his face; blood dripped between his fingers, across his teeth and chin. “You’re going to die now. Understand that? It won’t be nice or quick, either.”
The click of a gun came from behind him. I stared over his head, my face morphing into surprise. Jack was in the doorway, his frame so wide he blocked the hallway out. The handgun he gripped was aimed calmly on Mister Big. “Move,” Jack said. “Back up.”
Callum did as he was asked, shifting so his back was to the desk, facing his attacker. He swiped at his own hair; blood smeared on his forehead, sticking in the brown strands. “Who are you?”
“A dead man,” Jack said, shutting the door behind him. “One that you buried long ago.”
Screwing up his face, he studied Jack, the gun, then he glanced at me. Mister Big saw my triumphant smile, and it amazed me that his voice came out so smoothly. “I buried a lot of men. You’ll have to be more clear.”
Jack laughed, the sound like an old house falling to the ground. It gave me goosebumps. He placed the tip of the gun to Callum’s bloody cheek. “I’ll remind you with a story. One that begins with a cruel giant taking advantage of a small boy.”
His eyes shot wide. “Jack?” he whispered.
“The very same.”
I swallowed, slowing rising to my feet as my stepfather watched me. “I’m glad to see you’re whole. I always wondered what happened to you.”
“Bullshit.” Lifting his shirt with his free hand, he displayed some scars that were worse than the small ones he’d made me feel on his face. “Your guys did a number on me. Guess you didn’t count on me being saved by an angel.”
That went over Callum’s head. Or at least, he didn’t seem to connect that I’d been the one to save Jack so long ago. He was busy giving his attention to the gun in his face. “Jack,” he said, and the bastard smiled wide. “Let’s talk. You’re here because you want something, right? What is it, money? I’ll happily give you that.”
“I don’t want you to happily give me anything.” Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out a few thick squares of paper. He dropped the photos onto the desk; all of us looked. I rocked to one side when I spotted myself in one of them.
Mister Big’s chest rose as he began to panic. “What are those?”
“You know what they are,” Jack growled. “Your little camera set up was pretty slick. Running the feed to your unlocked laptop was bold, though.”
“It was in my penthouse, how did you…” His mouth snapped shut, he was glowing a furious red.
“Hector might throw a mean kick, but he sucks at his job.” Jack’s head swung side to side. “Left his station more than long enough for me to snatch a master key card to your place. I’d say you should fire him, but when we’re done here, you won’t have that kind of power anymore.”
I couldn’t find him because he was right above me in the penthouse. I picked up some of the photos. Each had a time stamp on them; most were from the last week, a couple were from months ago. Way before I’d met Jack… and before he’d entered my home. The camera really didn’t belong to him.
“It was off when I found it,” I said, looking at Jack. “You turned it off. Why didn’t you tell me? You could have said Callum was filming us, I would have…”
“Believed me?” He adjusted his grip on the gun. “Maybe. But I didn’t have proof, not until I accessed the server and downloaded the photos from that camera’s feed.”
My foot touched the bloody pen; it rolled away from me. “You were coming here tonight to confront him. Jack, if you hadn’t, I’d be dead.”
“Tsk,” he said, ending my dark ramble. His attention went back to the oddly silent owner of the club. “It’s pretty obvious that these photos will ruin you, Callum. I didn’t bring the worst, but thousands of pictures of your own underage daughter exist. Pictures you took. You own that server, you placed that camera.”
Mister Big waited, his eyes closed now. “Get to what you’re after.”
“Sign over the club to me. Then you’re going to quietly accept jail time for creating child porn. Don’t lawyer your way into a smaller penalty, don’t fight it. You’re going to bow your head and take the title of fucking pedophile with pride,” he spat. The tendon in Jack’s neck bulged. His grip on the pistol tightened, then loosened; he was struggling with an urge that deeply wanted to murder this man.
Jack said, “You’re also going to stay out of the custody situation between Harper and her sister. No cruel words or mud-slinging, she’s the best person to care for Cena, and you know it.” He inhaled sharply, bending near Callum so I almost couldn’t hear his next words. “If you don’t do this exactly as instructed, your fate is simple: I’ll shred you up bit by screaming bit. You see, I’m not scared of jail or death. I’m going to hell just like you are, and if I have to drag us down together, arm in arm, I will.” He watched me from the corner of one eye. “I’d just prefer to wait a bit before I cross those gates.”
The gravity of his admission kept my feet stuck to the rug. He’d bluntly said that he expected to be welcomed to Hell with open arms. But somewhere between our fated meeting in an alley and our kiss in my home, he’d made a decision. He wanted more time—with me.
Mister Big finally opened his eyes. “I don’t have much choice. I’ll sign whatever you want.”
Jack didn’t remove the pistol. “One more question. I know who bought the house and the farm, but who did you sell my mother’s necklace to? The one with the three bean shaped emeralds?”
My stepfather stared, apparently searching his brain. “I don’t know what happened to that.” His attention slid my way. “I gave it to her mother long ago. I looked for it after she died, but…”
“Think harder,” Jack said. He fingered the trigger.
“Wait.” One of my feet glided over the rug; a half-step, enough so I could rest my fingers on Jack’s shoulder. The man was all steel, but under my touch, he started to melt. “He really doesn’t know. But I do.”