Because It's You (Carolina Rebels 2)

“How did he seem?”

“Agitated and a bit unlike himself, but he said you two weren’t getting along and that he would make sure things would work out soon.”

Fuck. I get out of the truck and head to my door. He never left! That motherfucker never left. What has he been doing all this time? I stop short on the porch steps. There, abandoned on its side, is Elizabeth’s overnight bag.

“Fuck. He has her.”

“What?”

“He took my girlfriend! Where was he staying? Do you know?”

“I don’t think your father is capa—”

“I gave him new limitations and an ultimatum for what would happen if he broke the new rules. He’s fucking pissed, and if I don’t find him, he’s going to take it out on my girlfriend. You know what he did to me as a kid! He is sure as fuck capable of beating the shit out of a woman until he nearly kills her.”

“You need to call the police,” she says.

“And tell them what? She hasn’t been missing but for thirty minutes at the most. Where the fuck was he staying, Glenda?”

“He didn’t say.”

How fucking convenient. “I swear on your life, if I find out you knew, your head is going to be on a platter.” I hang up and sit on the porch steps. I have to go to the police and hope they’ll help me because it’s not like hotels will tell me if someone has a room there, and there are so many hotels in Raleigh that it could take for fucking ever to call them all.

God, this is the last thing I need. The last thing Elizabeth needs. Fuck, Elizabeth. Francis could do some serious damage to her and she doesn’t deserve it, especially when all of that anger is directed at me. Before I go to the cops, I decide to call my father to see if he’ll answer the phone.

“Well, look at who’s calling me. I feel special,” he says in answer.

“Where the fuck is she?”

“Now that’s no way to speak to your father, Marc. Elizabeth and I are spending some quality time together, getting to know one another, and such. I might bring her back later. Harmed, of course.”

I hear a choked sob in the background, but it’s quickly muffled. Son of a bitch!

“It’s me you want, right? So tell me where you are.”

“She looks just like your mother.” There’s a touch of awe in his voice, but I’m confused. I take after my father, and I’ve seen pictures of my mother. She was a redhead with more freckles than I can count and green eyes. How in the hell does she look like Elizabeth, who looks more like me with the blonde hair? Their hair styles aren’t even close to being similar. The only vague similarity could be their eyes, as Elizabeth’s are hazel. Other than that, they do not look alike. “She has an attitude your mother lacked, though. Your mother never fought back; I think this one will try her best.” His excited tone makes me sick. “I was about to tell a story to Elizabeth. Maybe you’d like to listen.”

I hear a scuffle and then it’s like he put me on speakerphone and set the phone down. I can hear Elizabeth whimpering and crying. I get back into my truck, determined to drive around and look for Elizabeth’s vehicle until I can get him to talk to me.

“Once upon a time there was a handsome stud of a man. He was powerful and he liked doing things to feel that way. He liked to hang out in bars, admire women, but the fun was with the ones who would reject him.” Whatever he does causes another muffled sob to escape from Elizabeth. Shit. I don’t know if I can listen to this.

“Where are you?”

It’s like he doesn’t hear me.

“So he’d follow the ones who rejected him home.”

My hands tighten on the steering wheel and I learn just what kind of monster my father is as he describes how he raped women. Elizabeth starts crying harder and he slaps her, the crack of his palm on her skin loud and echoes in my head long after. I have to find Elizabeth.

“But then, there was one girl. There’s always one girl, isn’t there, son? One we can’t seem to resist, and that was your mother for me. It’s kind of funny, really. She was with me before she knew she was with me.”

He raped my mother, too?

“She thought I was such a hero for falling in love with her and being willing to raise the son of a rapist. She never did find out I was your father. Lucky for me, she died. It would’ve been odd with how much you look like me and she might’ve connected the dots.”

What a sick bastard.

“Any last words, my dear? And remember if you share our location, it’ll be much, much worse and I won’t be able to promise a return at all.”