Saving Hailey: Chapter 11

ONE DAY EARLIER

My eyes pop open from where I’m hunched in bed, propped against a stack of pillows. I was determined not to sleep and managed until three am before my brain started phasing into those infuriating short naps. Once sunrise breached the room, I fell asleep for good. Well, for an hour according to the electronic clock on the night table.

Blaze leans against the wall by the door, both arms crossed over his chest, another immaculate black suit hugging his tall frame. He’s at least six feet, but not half as bulky as Nash.

He’s slender, though doesn’t lack muscles.

“My men tell me you don’t sleep,” Blaze says, a hint of annoyance in his tone, but laced with… worry.

And that worry… it makes the choking anxiety ease up. I knowhe’s dangerous. He’s holding me captive to get information, but he did save me from a terrible fate.

“I just woke up,” I counter, struggling as I pull myself up.

Pain is still there, still potent, but the hour I slept took the edge off. Maybe I’m not as broken as my body makes out, the agony amplified by hunger, thirst, and exhaustion.

“An hour in four days?” he counters, raising a skeptical brow.

There it is again—worry. Why would he worry about me? It doesn’t make sense, but… it calms me down.

Technically, that was my fifth night of skipped sleep. I’m aware humans can’t survive long without it, but that’s why my brain takes those tiny naps. It switches off and regenerates enough to keep me alive.

“No one will enter this room without my permission, Hailey. You can sleep without fear.”

Easy for him to say.

I watched his men fling Jonathan’s lifeless daughter onto the ground like gone-off meat for the dogs. They killed Matthews, dragged me out of the car, and locked me in that dormitory without explanation hours after I learned that the man I fell in love with was lying through his teeth to extract information. And if that’s not upheaval enough, there are guns everywhere and men raping women a few doors down the hall.

Men who didn’t touch me thanks to Blaze…

“No amount of reassurance will make me feel safe,” I say, reminding myself that no matter how helpful and kind he seems, he can’t be trusted.

I made the mistake of trusting men merely because they offered me a little attention before: Alex, then Nash—I’m not doing it again.

“But you are safe,” he insists, pushing away from the wall. “Maybe if I explain why I went above and beyond to acquire you, you’ll understand why nobody here can hurt you without my permission.” He raps the door before taking a few measured steps toward the bed.

“Boss?” Rex enters the room, blocking the frame.

“Let the kitchen know Miss Vaughn’s awake. Have them send painkillers and…” His eyes swing to me, “…how do you take your coffee?”

He’s a big man with an army at his disposal. There’s no need to drug me, he could easily hold me down and do whatever he pleases. He’s got more than enough soldiers to hold me for him.

Drugs would be overkill.

And would he have saved me last night then promised I’d be safe if he was planning to hurt me?

I don’t think so.

“Black…” I say. “Three sugars.” I don’t usually even take one in my coffee, but sugar is energy and I need a boost after five days of surviving on less than the bare minimum. “Please.”

Rex nods, his enigmatic responses becoming quite familiar.

“Get Terrence to stand ground while you rest,” Blaze says as Rex turns, one hand on the handle.

“Yes, Boss.” The door closes silently behind him.

Blaze sits at the foot of the bed, popping the button of his suit jacket and pivoting my way. “Your father planted an undercover spy in Rhett Willard’s ranks,” he starts. “I believe you remember Alex Fletcher?”

“A little.”

“A little is enough. He wasn’t someone worth remembering if I’m being blunt.”

My eyes widen, a boulder lodging in my throat. There’s no rational explanation for this onset of sadness. I shouldn’t feel it, but my brain understands the implications of referring to Alex in the past tense.

“You said wasn’t… does that mean he’s dead?”

“He is. He died the night of your accident.”

“So he was the driver…” I mumble, my mind whirring. “Do you know what happened?”

“Partly. Rhett found out Alex was working for your father so sent his men after the pair of you. See, earlier that day, Rhett’s daughter committed suicide. Alex dated her so he could drill out information on Rhett, all the while, I believe, maintaining a relationship with you.”

“That’s up for debate. What was her name?”

“Aalyiah.”

My whole body stiffens, the familiar haze taking over as a flashback hits. Relief that my memories aren’t lost for good floods my system, mixed with the feelings eating me that day.

I’m whisked from the mansion to be confronted by Alex in a living room. His blonde hair falls carelessly over his forehead, a waxy quality to his complexion. He’s sprawled on the couch, dark circles framing his eyes, clothes crumpled. I think he’s drunk…

“I should’ve never dragged Aalyiah into it.”

I stop breathing. I’m not sure whether in the past or present—maybe both. Pulse whooshes in my ears as Aalyiah echoes louder and louder inside my mind.

“I shouldn’t have dragged you into it,” he adds, running a hand down his face. “You were supposed to be my insurance policy.”

My eyebrows knot in the middle. “What do you mean?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing’s going according to plan and I have no fucking idea what to do. We’re all dead if I can’t figure out how to do everything Aalyiah wants.”A sad chuckle falls from his lips. “Well, I’m dead. Maybe for real or maybe only inside, but either way… I’m done.”

“You’re scaring me, Alex,”I whisper, my voice tight, a lump forming in my throat. “You need to quit.”

“Quit? I can’t quit. That’s not a fucking option.”

“Of course you can. You’re not safe! You can’t risk your life for work. My dad will understand.”

Another chuckle vibrates his chest. “You don’t know your dad all that well, Hailey. If I quit, I’ll spend the rest of my life in jail. You think I’m risking everything to put Rhett Willard behind bars?”

“Rhett Willard?” I echo, my heartrate speeding up.

“I’m doing this because I don’t have a fucking choice,” he continues. “I can’t quit. Even if there wasn’t a life sentence hanging over my head, quitting means risking Aalyiah’s life. But if I don’t quit it’s just a matter of time before Rhett puts a bullet in my head.” He sits up, his shoulders slumped, anguish twisting his face. “Like I said… unless I figure out a way to end this, I’m dead for real, or dead inside.”

He grabs my hand and the gentleness of his thumb grazing my palm makes my heart stutter. “Don’t worry, Hailey. You’ll be fine. Sad and broken, but alive.”

“I want to help. What can I do?” I ask, the resignation in his voice making me cold.

Cold, distant, and blurred.

I open my mouth, but the words stretch like cheap elastic, coming out distorted as the memory collapses.

“Hailey?” Blaze covers his hand with mine. “Are you okay? You’re shaking.”

“I’m okay,” I mutter, marshaling the emotions and the hundreds of new questions the flashback triggered.

“Are you sure? You… zoned out.”

“Sorry, I—” I bite my tongue, applying the brakes before more words spill from my lips.

Blaze believes I know where the evidence is. While he’s waiting for me to remember, I’m safe. He won’t kill me until he gets what he wants.

“Sorry, it’s the first time I heard her name. Please continue.”

He rakes his narrowed gaze over my face as if trying to read my mind. “All my information comes directly from the source,” he says. “One of my… allies, if you will, has rats planted in Rhett’s ranks. Based on their reports, the night of your accident went something like this. Rhett found Aalyiah’s body after she threw herself out of a window. He also found a suicide note. It painted the picture that Alex was a cop…” He pauses to chuckle under his breath. I’m not sure what’s so amusing, but I don’t get to ask before he adds, “…and that he was dating someone besides Aalyiah. Naturally, Rhett sent his pawns to bring you both in. Unfortunately for him, he surrounds himself with men of questionable intelligence.”

I have half a mind to tell him he’s no better. He surrounds himself with men who like to rape young girls, but I keep my tongue in check. He might be more inclined to hurt me if I criticize his setup.

“Babyface, Rhett’s used-to-be muscle man, bumped into the back of the car you and Alex were in and it rolled off a steep incline, colliding with a tree.”

At least Dad didn’t lie about that part of the accident.

Dad.

He must be worried sick.

“You were unconscious when Babyface lost the last shred of his questionable intelligence. See, instead of utilizing his limited time to secure you, he emptied the seven bullets left in his gun into Alex’s head… which was pointless considering Alex was dead on impact; the tree already killed him.”

“Why shoot a dead man? Sounds like a crime of passion.”

“You’re a clever thing, aren’t you?” he praises, a genuine smile curling his lips “Aalyiah was beautiful. Pure and kind. Even Rhett’s goons loved her. I wouldn’t be surprised if some felt their own kind of fatherly protection over her.” The sudden fondness vibrating his tone tells me he was as much enamored by Aalyiah as the men he’s describing. “Babyface shot Alex,” he continues. “And I believe he was going to shoot you, but the cops were coming and he got spooked.”

My heart thumps faster, though my body’s so tired even my pulse is lagging. It should be pushing the cardiac-arrest needle given I just learned I’m only alive thanks to flashing red and blue lights and screaming sirens.”

“I guess Rhett is Nash’s father?”

“You mean Carter’s. Yes, he is. Though Rhett kept him hidden by burying him in the ranks of Chicago’s boss, Dante Carrow. Being Vaughn’s daughter, I bet the name rings a bell.”

I nod. Dante Carrow would be the crowning jewel on the long list of criminals my father put behind bars. I overheard him say, during his many poker nights with colleagues back in Florida, that Dante Carrow is equally powerful, ruthless, and untouchable.

Dad’s dreamt for years about busting him, but his colleagues managed his expectations, calmly stating that Dante won’t go down until he’s dead.

And Carter works for him…

An eerie chill shakes me despite the warm hoodie I’m wearing. What have I gotten into?

“What information do you want from me?” I ask.

“Oh, it’s not just me, Hailey. A lot of powerful men would like to steal you from me. I only recently learned about your involvement and Carter’s existence. Rhett’s getting sloppy with age. When your amnesia came to light, Rhett sent Carter to hurt you so much you’d neverrecall where the evidence is.”

“But… how does he know Alex told me about the evidence? Why would he?”

Given my latest flashback, it’s plausible, but it doesn’t explain how Rhett found out. He learned about Alex the same day he had him killed. They didn’t talk. He couldn’t have tortured the information out of Alex, so how does Rhett know more about my past than I do?

“That’s unclear,” Blaze admits. “But Rhett wouldn’t go to all this trouble without a reason.”

I begged Dad to tell me what was happening, Matthews too. Alex used me for more than just sexual favors, all the while keeping secrets. Nash lied through his teeth for weeks but Blaze…

Blaze is honest. He’s the first one to give me any of the information I’ve been dying for since I woke up at the hospital. He’s not being evasive, not treating me like a silly little girl who can’t handle the truth. He answers the questions I’ve been trying to get answers to for weeks.

I’m so… grateful.

Which is fucking ironic given my predicament.

“So Rhett thinks I know what Alex did?” I ask, organizing the clues.

“He believes Alex gave you the key to access the evidence, even if he never actually told you about it.”

“A key?”

“Not literally, although… maybe. The point is no one knows where the evidence is. Not even your father. He can’t arrest Rhett without it, which was the whole point of this endeavor and the reason he planted a loose cannon like Alex in Rhett’s ranks.”

“Rhett needs the evidence for himself… Nash is his son, so he’s helping…” I meet Blaze’s dark eyes. “Why do you want it?”

He stretches his long legs, getting more comfortable. “That’s simple. Revenge.”

“You want Rhett to serve twenty-five to life?”

“Not at all. That’s not how we do business, Hailey. Rhett doesn’t have allies but he does work with a lot of powerful people. Not nearly as powerful as Dante Carrow, of course, but powerful enough. If the evidence exists, some of it might implicate more people than just Rhett.” He smirks at me, cocking one brow. “Information is power in this world. Whoever has the evidence controls everyone involved.”

How have I found myself on the brink of a mafia war?

It’s abstract. Incomprehensible. Fucking unfair… but it explains why Dad was so keen to keep me in a cage—blind, deaf, and dumb to everything going on outside it.

“I don’t remember any evidence.”

“I’m aware. If you knew, Carter would too. He’d have his hands on it by now.” He massages his temples. “I have your medical records so I know it wouldn’t take much to instigate brain damage and permanently erase your memories. You have my word nothing bad will happen to you within these walls.”

“Because the evidence is too valuable…”

“Yes. If I hold the key to his fate, I can make Rhett, and a whole load of others, bow to me.”

I wonder if he wants to make these men bow because he’s so young. From my father’s many rants, I’ve learned that mafia men are gradually starting younger and younger. Over the last fifteen years, it has become the profession of men in their twenties, thirties, and forties, rather than those in their fifties and sixties.

Technology caused a rift. So much crime takes place online now that the older generation can’t keep up.

Still, Blaze looks extremely young to have risen so high in this line of work.

“Can I ask a personal question?” I look up, finding the courage to hold his gaze. “How old are you?”

“Like I said, smart cookie.” He smirks. “I bet you think I need this evidence to prove myself?”

“More or less. You look young, so I figure you haven’t earned respect or your place yet.”

“You’re not wrong. Respect from my men comes as a given, but I want more, Hailey. I’ve wanted the throne since I saw my father kill a man when I was five. I’ve been preparing for this my whole life, but this business changes rapidly. While Dante Carrow may have climbed to the very top of the food chain… every king must fall from grace.”