I’d been able to save up some cash, it wasn’t nearly enough. If they wanted money, I sure as hell didn’t have any to spare.
“Don’t play stupid with me, Blakely Stewart,” the dark voice answered. Maximillian reached for my phone, but I shoved him away. I needed to hear everything, so I could make sense of it all. “We’ve been watching you. I know that brother of yours has a fat wallet,” he added. “All you have to do is bring me fifty grand, and the debt will be paid. If you don’t, your father will pay in blood.”
“I-I need proof of life. And where will I bring it? How will I even—”
“I’ll send you a photo of your father, and you’ll figure it out. You attend that fancy school, don’t you? I’m sure you can use that pretty head of yours to find a solution that doesn’t end in your daddy’s death. Hurry.”
The line went dead before I could rush out my confusion and excuses. There was no way I could come up with fifty thousand dollars at the drop of a hat. “Blakely? What’s going on?” Max asked while shaking me once more. My phone pinged, and a photo of my father came through with an address and a time. Dad had two black eyes, a busted lip, and a gash along his forehead. He was hunched over as if he couldn’t hold himself up. A choked sob escaped my chest the moment I saw it. The address was for a place in Memphis, and the time said five p.m. tonight.
A million thoughts raced through my mind as I tried to make sense of everything. Maximillian’s voice was muffled compared to the roaring in my brain. I couldn’t go to the police. The men keeping him captive would undoubtedly kill him. Not to mention, cops didn’t particularly care about convicted felons on parole. I wanted to run to Decker, explain to him what was happening, and beg for his help. But I didn’t feel like we were okay enough for me to ask him.
Lance. I had to go to Lance.
Shit, I couldn’t go to Lance. He was in Louisiana. Fucking Louisiana. He’d texted me this morning that he had to meet with his client there. My brain was working through solutions like this was a final exam.
“Fuck, Blakely. Tell me what’s going on. You looked terrified!” Maximillian said louder.
“I have to go,” I answered.
“Like hell you do! I heard what was going on. What’s wrong with your dad?”
I glanced down at my phone once more and stared at the broken, battered photo of my father. “It’s safer if you don’t know,” I finally answered before shrugging out of his grip. I started jogging down the hallway as Maximillian called after me. I needed to get to my dad. I couldn’t afford to lose the one parent I had left.
31
Decker
Everything hurt.
My head.
My heart.
My fucking chest.
If this was what love felt like, then count me out. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I wasn’t supposed to fall for a girl that was too young, too off-limits. I risked my job and my best friend for what, pain?
Everyfuckingthing hurt. But I knew that I’d do it again in a heartbeat. The worst part about it all was the consolation prize of knowing that she was right. I had to sit here and witness her mutual pain, and the look on her blotchy, tear-stained face wrecked me. The only reason I didn’t drive to Rose’s house last night and demand she stay with me was the fact that she was doing the right thing. I wasn’t courageous enough, strong enough, or good enough for Blakely Stewart. She gave me an ultimatum, and once again, I was too cowardly to bite the bullet and take away her pain.
And I knew I hurt her. No one wanted to feel like a secret. She repelled the idea of being anything like her mother, and our relationship was selfish. I understood why she did what she did and how she did it, but it didn’t make the pain go away.
After guzzling whiskey like it was water last night, I convinced myself that I was right for not wanting to be honest about our relationship. I told myself that risking my job wasn’t worth it, even though I knew damn well I’d quit in a heartbeat for her. I was an educated man. I could survive this. She was worth surviving this for.
My job should’ve been