Dawn of Forever (Jack & Jill 3)

Silence settled over the room as Irene studied Jillian, her eyes narrowed, lips twisted. “I can see that.”

She turned and grabbed the other two envelopes, one in each hand as if she couldn’t decide which one to open next. “Knox, sweetie pie, you’re next.”

He grunted as the guy tore the tape from his mouth.

“I know you taught physical torture techniques used to acquire information from less-than-cooperative people, but I’ve never found them to be near as effective as psychological torture. Physical scars heal. Emotional ones don’t. Wouldn’t you agree, Dr. Jones?”

Luke glared at her.

“That’s fine. Don’t answer that now. We’ll revisit it later.” She opened the envelope. “I had some stills taken from the video footage of the private training session you had with Jessica after her kidnapping.”

“Irene …”

“Knox …” She leveled him with a stern glare. “First Sunny and then Jessica. You could have just hit me, or cut me, or physically done anything to me and I would have recovered. Those wounds would have healed, but instead you treated me like a whore not worthy of your time, your attention, your love. And then you snuck around with a married woman. Do you know how humiliating that was for me? How torturous that was for me? And then this …” she pulled out several large black and white photos and tossed them on the floor so everyone could see them.

Luke closed his eyes. Knox and Jillian did not. They were there. She wasn’t showing them anything new.

“Sunny rejects you so … what? You fuck her daughter. How did that work out for you? Oh, yeah … you left on a gurney. And you …” She shifted her attention to Jessica. “If he raped you, then why didn’t you tell anyone? Is it because it wasn’t rape? Is it because it was consensual? I watched the tape over and over and I saw what the two of you did to each other. I think you’d have a hard time convincing anyone that it wasn’t some BDSM fetish the two of you have.”

She bent down and grabbed one of the photos then fisted Luke’s hair, jerking his head back until he opened his eyes. “See this? Count yourself lucky that you dodged this bullet. You just about married one sick bitch.”

Jillian glared at Knox.

One rule: Luke lives.

She didn’t want a single hair on his head injured and it infuriated her to see Knox sit there and allow Irene to touch Luke. She would have lunged at her, intent on further mangling her nose or sinking her teeth into Irene’s carotid. Knox just sat there.

“This is upsetting. Wouldn’t you agree, Dr. Jones? Could you really blame this man’s wife—me—for completely losing it after seeing this video? Look at you. I can see it in your eyes. You want to fucking tear him apart. Does that make you a crazy person?”

“You blew up my house.”

“SHUT UP! You cheated on me! I read the letters you wrote to Sunny. I saw this video.” She shoved the photo in Knox’s face. “You brought me to my knees. YOU made me crazy. You and fucking Edgar drugged me, thinking I just needed an antidepressant to ‘chill out’ about you and your goddamn wandering dick! Then you sent me to a mental institution for five. Long. Years. No visits, just divorce papers.” She stepped back, her face taking on a blueish cast as she fumbled though the stuff on the table for her inhaler.

The man with the knife rested a hand on her shoulder. “I’m fine,” she whispered after taking a puff. “I need some air.” He helped her up the stairs, leaving photos of Knox raping Jessica scattered on the floor.

“If we make it out of here, I will kill you.”

Knox chuckled at Luke’s threat. “Get in line, buddy.”

Chapter Thirty-Six

Jackson’s phone lit up. He was seconds away from raining hell down on that shithole of a house. After seeing Luke bound and escorted inside the night before, he decided to wait until morning for a text and go in if they didn’t send one.

A, B, or C?

“Fucking amateurs,” he mumbled.

D, E, or FU? He typed back.

A it is then.

That’s all he needed to sit back and wait a little longer. He wanted a better sign than letters in the alphabet. Luke would buy him time. Whoever had them was not affiliated with their parents’ murder. Drug lords didn’t have the time or patience to play games.

Bullet.

Head.

Done.

He assembled his long-range sniper rifle. Next he ordered a pizza, cracked the window, and waited. Forty minutes later his pizza arrived. Jackson paid for the pizza over the phone and left very specific instructions to set the pizza on the porch, ring the doorbell, and leave immediately. To his surprise, the guy did exactly as he requested.

Just as the delivery guy got back in his car, a woman came to the door. She tried to wave the delivery guy down, but he had already pulled away from the curb.