I Thee Take: To Have and To Hold Duet Book Two by Knight, Natasha (ready to read books .txt) 📗

I don’t deny it. Instead, I nod, my gaze on those pages although I’ve unfocused my eyes so the words are a blur.

“You didn’t see his face when he told me they’d taken her, Charlie.”

He doesn’t comment, just holds my gaze, as if to say you and I both know that’s bullshit. And he’s right. My uncle has a different face for every occasion. I just never thought of him using them with me.

“He didn’t know Scarlett’s location. It couldn’t have been him who tipped off Jacob.”

“Couldn’t he have known? Didn’t he come get you from that strip club?”

I did have two soldiers with me who came from that house. Which ones were they? I can’t remember. I was too wrapped up in my own head to note their names or faces.

“I have one more thing for you.” He reaches into the breast pocket of his jacket and pulls out a single sheet.

“I don’t want anything else,” I say when he holds it out to me.

“The doctor who looked after you when you were in the coma, did you know he died a few days after you woke?”

I glance up at him, confused. I hadn’t even thought about that. I’d been introduced to another doctor. I’d assumed he was the one who’d looked after me.

“Drove off a bridge in the middle of the night,” he says. “A bridge about eighty miles from his house in a town he had no ties to. Absolutely no connections, no reason to be there.”

“What are you saying? If you’re accusing David, you and I both know he doesn’t do that sort of work.”

“No, he has others do it for him. Why don’t you talk to Lenore?”

“What does Lenore have to do with anything?”

“She came to me once. Years ago. She was worried about the drugs they were giving you to keep you in the coma.”

“They did that so I would heal. It’s detailed in the medical reports.”

“By a doctor your uncle employed who was subsequently killed in a strange sort of accident.”

No. Uncle David wouldn’t have done that to me.

“I wish I were wrong, Cristiano.” He finishes his whiskey.

I bow my head, letting my eyes focus on the papers before me.

“You read through those. Let’s talk tomorrow, make a plan.”

I nod once, sit back down and skim one of the reports. Charlie’s thorough. He’s always been thorough. It’s the reason he worked for my father and one of the reasons he works for me. The other reason is that I trust him. He may not be blood, but I’ve always trusted him.

But if I believe him now, then my own blood has betrayed me.

No. It’s not possible. Uncle David’s been like a father to me since the murders.

Charlie walks to the door. “Cristiano,” he says.

I look up. I’m tired. I’m so fucking tired.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

I don’t say anything. I just let him walk out the door.

16

Cristiano

My steps are heavy as I make my way below ground. The flashlight illuminates the path ahead of me, but I don’t need it. I know the underground of this house. It’s not only the cells that are down here.

I bring the bottle of whiskey to my mouth and swallow two mouthfuls as thoughts swim in the chaotic sea of my mind.

The voices from that dream. Were they Lenore and Uncle David? I recognize the scent of the aftershave. It’s my uncle’s. Something he has custom made. But was the other voice Lenore’s? What had she said? Why can’t I fucking remember what she said?

I drink more, the liquid sloshing in the bottle.

It’s cold down here. And damp. If I close my eyes and stand very still, I swear I can feel the sea pressing against the rock. No. That’s not true. Not yet. That only happens in the tunnel.

I walk to the farthest cell. The one where Scarlett’s brothers were killed. I shine the light through the bars to see the dark stains in the stone floor. Evidence of their deaths.

If my family had gotten down here the night of the massacre, they’d be alive.

But we’d been ambushed. We’d had no chance.

The heavy door creaks as I push it open. There are two cells down here. I guess it was a fifty-fifty chance my uncle would have put the De La Cruz brothers in this one. Even he doesn’t know about the tunnel.

I walk to the far corner where the carcass of an old mattress rests. That was here before I was. I don’t know why I know that. Don’t know if it’s true knowledge, some memory I haven’t lost, or my mind playing a trick on me. This part is almost as bad as not remembering them. I don’t trust myself. Don’t trust my own thoughts.

I shove the mattress away. It’s light and something scurries from underneath it. I search the stones behind it and sure enough, I see it. The false stone.

Laying the flashlight down I set my hands on it, feel the smooth surface. Even though it’s made to look like the others, there’s a textural and a temperature difference.

Like I knew of the stone’s existence, I also know how to access the tunnel behind it. Because this false rock is a doorway. A secret way on and off the island.

A memory comes then, sharp as a blade. Blinding as a bolt of lightning. It hurtles into me at once and I hear a crash, feel liquid splash my legs.

Michael, Dante, me and dad. We’re young, I’m eleven which makes Michael twelve and Dante ten. My father is holding Dante’s hand and mine. Michael is too grown up for it, always wanting to show how brave he is. He wants to make Dad proud. We all do.

“Your brothers are too young. This is our secret, just us,” my father says. “Michael, it’ll be your job to look after it one day. To tell your brothers.” Elizabeth wasn’t born yet, I realize. I wonder if her birth