Bending down, I give Macy a soft kiss and then unwind my arms from around her. "I won't do anything to get myself in trouble," I promise her.
She looks relieved in one second, and then stunned the next when I turn for my car. "You're leaving?"
"I'm going to see your uncle," I tell her as I turn back. "Mac will be here soon. You can stay here with her and I'll come back, or I'll catch up with you in the city. We still need to talk about what the prosecutor can do for you."
"But--"
I shake my head firmly. "No buts. You're going to have to trust me on this."
She looks bewildered, but she gives me an accepting nod. The only way I know she's scared is by the way she wrings her hands together, and the only reason I'm leaving now is because I know Mac would have been hot on my heels after I called her. I can't imagine she'll be too much longer.
I turn away again, this time intent on making it to my car. I'm not going to let her divert me from my goal. As I near the house, my mom steps out onto the front porch. Whatever look is on my face causes my mom's lips to draw downward and her eyes to immediately become concerned.
"Take care of her for now," I tell my mom as I jerk a thumb back over my shoulder. "Mac will be here soon."
My mom gives me an encouraging smile and nods.
That's good enough for me. I know she's safe and cared for.
I can concentrate on other things right now.
I'm going to send Keith Marlow a big fat bonus come Monday morning. He was my first phone call as I left Warwick. After I told him what I wanted, he said he'd get back with me as soon as he could. My second call was to Matt. I told him to be on standby... that I might need bailed out of jail later. He didn't ask me any questions, so I'm assuming Mac filled him in on what was going on. All he said was, "I've got your back."
Keith called me back within just half an hour of my original call to him. He worked his magic and gave me Luke Carrington's home address.
Of course, it's a private luxury apartment building and there's no way I'm getting past security, so I park my car and find a spot a couple of hundred feet from the entrance where I can watch for him.
I'm not leaving until he makes an appearance.
I call Matt... update him. He tells me Mac is bringing Macy back to the city and she'll be at their place. This relieves me, knowing she'll be with two people that care deeply for her. I know her wounds have all been peeled open by what I found out today, but I seriously can't concentrate on that until I do this.
I've never been so driven in my life to accomplish a single task.
I won't be able to devote myself to Macy until this is done.
Chapter 13
I wait.
And I wait.
And I wait some more.
I've been hanging out watching for Luke Carrington to come out of his building, or go in. In the past four hours, at least seven different car services have pulled up to let out residents or pick them up, for perhaps an evening on the town. Another black Lincoln town car parks in front of the building and puts its flashers on. The driver... a man of about forty and dressed in a black suit... gets out and comes to stand by the rear door. I know he's waiting for someone to come out, and I hope for the umpteenth time it's finally my prey.
I narrow my gaze toward the double glass doors framed in gold plating. A grandly uniformed doorman stands there, his white gloves remaining pristine all afternoon as I watched him letting people in and out of the building. He's eyeballed me a few times, no doubt suspicious of my loitering, but there's not a damn thing he can do to me. It's a public sidewalk.
My phone rings. I think briefly to ignore it because I want to be able to move fast, but when I see it's Matt, I go ahead and connect. I have no qualms with hanging up on him if Carrington makes an appearance.
"How's it going?" he asks.
"Still no sighting," I say as I keep my eyes pinned on the doorman.
"Macy and Mac just ran down to the corner market to pick some stuff up for dinner. Think you might be joining us?"
"Probably not," I tell him even as my stomach rumbles. I haven't eaten anything since my mom shoved a blueberry muffin in my hand as I left early this morning. "How's she doing?"
"She's worried about you," Matt says.
Guilt strikes at me because the last thing I ever want is to cause Macy one moment of concern for my welfare. She has enough on her plate without having to stress out over what I might do to her uncle.
And fuck... I honestly have no idea.
I think I've calmed down enough that murder isn't on the agenda, but who knows? I'm still vibrating with an insane need to do violence to this man, and maybe it will get out of control. I've decided not to worry about it, and I'm just going to go with my gut reaction when I see him.
If the fucker ever decides to show up.
Almost as if on cue, the doorman reaches for the door and pulls it open. He gives a short bow of his head to the man walking out, and as soon as he steps onto the sidewalk, I recognize Luke Carrington.
At least, I hope it's Luke Carrington.
I suppose it could be his brother, Travis, since they're identical twins, but I can't worry about that now. Travis Carrington is on my shit list too, so I'm going to get satisfaction out of this no matter who that man is heading toward the town car.
I disconnect the phone and shove it in my back pocket, not giving Matt another thought.
I stride toward Carrington, immediately recognizing I won't intercept him before he gets to the car. The driver opens the back door so I break into a jog, and as the adrenaline starts to course through me, I open up the floodgates and let vicious hatred of this man fuel me.
Yes, for the first time in my life, I actually hate someone.
I start barreling toward him and in just a few seconds, I'm there.
Carrington hears me coming... turns his head toward me, eyes wide with surprise. I'm not sure what my face looks like but I imagine that brimstone and fire might be rolling off it, and his own gaze fills with fear.
He braces himself... knows there's no stopping me.
I slam into him, calling upon every bit of training I had in high school and rec football as a defensive linebacker, and I plow him hard down onto the concrete.
The driver shouts, "Holy fuck."
I hear the doorman call out, "Stop. Someone stop that man."
Then my world goes silent as I stare down at Macy's molester.
Her rapist.
It's just me, him, and not a goddamn thing in between us.
I straddle his chest, pinning him down. He's tall and lanky, but that's all he has. I have him by a good thirty pounds, I'm just as tall, and I have twenty-five years of youth on my side.
I also have rage.
Blind, acidic rage.
My fist connects with the side of his jaw, rocking his head hard to the side. He cries out in pain and tries to lift his hands to ward me off. I merely use my free hand to pull them away, cock my arm back, and let my fist fly again.
A direct connect to the bridge of his nose, and I hear his cartilage crumbling. Blood spatters both of us, and then gushes when I hit him again on his nose.
He shrieks now, trying to buck me off his body.
I hit him one more time, against his temple with my closed fist, and his eyes start to roll into the back of his head.
He can't lose consciousness... not yet.
I'm nowhere near done.
I grip him by his jaw, and he groans in true pain. Maybe it's broken but I can only hope. I squeeze and give his head a shake. Leaning over him, I bend down close and snarl, "I'm going to end you, you motherfucker."
Someone grabs my shoulder and tries to pull me off him. I see a flash of a black-and-red uniform with a thick, gold braid over one shoulder, and I know it's the doorman trying to stop me.
But he's like a bothersome gnat, easy to swat away. I hold Carrington's face hard with one hand, letting my other fly in another tight fist toward his face. It connects solidly just between his cheekbone and jaw and more blood sprays. I imagine the inside of his mouth is shredded, maybe his tongue even gashed.
The thought almost makes me giddy with pleasure.
"I'm going to call the cops," I hear the doorman say. I have no clue where the driver is, but he's not attempted to interfere. I expect that's just because he's a driver and not a security guard.
"Yeah... go ahead and call the cops," I growl as I grip Carrington's jaw hard. He whimpers, and I love it. I lean down and murmur, just so he can hear, "Have him call the cops. I'm sure they'd love to know I'm beating the shit out of a child molester."
After the last two blows to the head, I wasn't sure if Carrington was actually cognizant of what was going on, but suddenly, his eyes spring wide open. Hate and fear blaze at me in equal measures.
"No cops," he gurgles through the blood pooling in his mouth. But it's loud enough he can be heard.
"But Mr. Carrington," the doorman pleads. "This man needs to be arrested."
I don't even bother to look at the doorman. I don't look at the driver, or at the people I bet have stopped to watch what's going on.
I only have eyes for Luke Carrington.
Squeezing his jaw harder, I revel in the pain I see in his gaze. I lean down and whisper, "I have much worse than this planned for you. I'm going to make you suffer in ways you never dreamed possible."
"Please," he moans, and then chokes on his own blood. "I'll give you anything--"