“Well, I don’t fucking need a son, Ruby!” Papa snaps again, and then slowly rises from his chair. The silence is enough to be called tension. Papa rounds the table again, pulling me in to kiss me on the head. “You and my grandson stay away from him until after the wedding.”

I don’t say anything as he disappears the way he came. I stop. “Who killed Mama?” The thought had never crossed my mind, but after Betty threw that out there just seconds ago, it’s still fresh.

Papa doesn’t breathe a word as he enters the elevator and the doors close.

I drop down onto the chair, sighing into my hands.

“Something doesn’t add up…” Betty appears in the kitchen. “I don’t think it’s Wicked you should be worried about, Rubs.” When my eyes meet hers, they’re wide with fear. “I think it’s your papa.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” I squeeze my eyes closed. “Papa has only ever done what was right for the family.”

When Betty doesn’t answer, I look back up at her and the corners of her eyes soften. “I know, sweetie, but sometimes, when we love someone, we don’t see what everyone else does.”

“I need to see Wicked.” Pushing off the table, I snatch my keys. “Can you watch Wolf?”

“Of course.” Betty shoos me away, and I wait for the elevator before stepping inside. I can’t sit still. The underlying need to know what is going on is eating me inside and if Wicked doesn’t tell me, I’ll force it out of him. The elevator stops at the bottom parking lot level and I beep my DB 11, goose bumps raising down my spine. Spinning around, I look around the space. Empty parking spots except for mine, that’s parked in the penthouse section.

Pushing the button again, I reach for the door handle just as a hand covers my mouth and I’m being dragged backward. I kick and scream, my arms flying behind me to reach for something—anything—when I’m being shoved forward and a dark blindfold is forced over my head. The sliding door to the van closes and the heavy body on top of me lifts.

“You motherfucker!” I scream before a heavy fist thumps me across the head and everything goes black.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Water drips onto hard concrete floors to the rhythm of the pounding in my head. I slowly crack my eyes open, wincing when my hand reaches up to touch the side of my temple. Finally, I blink away from the blur and my eyes rest on the ceiling. Moss grows through paint cracks, water seeping through the damaged crevices.