A Commitment to Love, Book 3 (37 page)

“I don’t know what Mom is doing,” I muttered.

“Chase’s cock is probably deep down her throat right now.” He twisted his lips into disgust. “That’s how bad she desires power. She would suck him off, if he asked. That’s your mother.”

My body pulsed with anger, but I focused on staying calm.

“You told me you would handle this, Jasmine. You told me that Troy and Vivian would stop.”

My body quaked in hysteria. “You said I had three days. Please, don’t do anything. Let’s talk this through.”

Benny formed his lips into a sad frown. He raised his gun to Troy. “Son or not, this can’t go on.”

He pulled the trigger, right as Troy jumped up and charged at Benny.

But it was too late.

The bullet surged through the air.

Vivian’s screams filled my head.

How could a bullet be so small, when it caused so much damage? That tiny thing snatched my twin out of my life. It hit his chest, traveled through, and fled his back. Blood sprayed from both sides. But Benny didn’t stop there, and I didn’t move. There was no reason to do anything.

Life had ended.

Benny shot again and roared, “But you didn’t think of this. Did you, Sophia? You never thought I would hurt them. I told you I would!”

He shot at Troy’s head and chest over and over. My brother’s body leaned forward and then crashed to the ground.

Although Benny ran out of bullets, he continued to pull that trigger over and over.

Click. Click.

Blinking, I didn’t even turn my direction to the floor. Click. My brother lay there, and I’d done nothing to save him. Click. I stared at the cracked mural on Vivian’s wall and did something I hadn’t done in years.

Click.

I prayed.

I remember this one program that played on the television late at night. Some reverend with blond hair, blue eyes, and a huge diamond necklace on his neck. By twelve, I’d given up on God. What sort of supernatural being would allow a place like South End to exist? I’d been convinced that nothing existed after death.

Regardless, the reverend waved his hands on the screen and raved about this awesome God. But something stuck out for me that night. He’d said something that I never heard of.

“God doesn’t want you to walk to him with joy. He wants you to crawl, and don’t we all crawl to him sometimes?”

The audience in front of him clapped and yelled yes in response.

“Crawl to Christ!” He pointed to the screen. “Crawl to Him, and He will save you.”

I shut my eyes.

Click.

Benny continued to pull that trigger.

And in my mind, I got on the ground and began to crawl to the only thing in this world that could probably save us all.

In that moment, I crawled to God.

Please welcome and watch over my brother. God, please, don’t let that be the last time I see him. Will I see him after this life? God, can you hear me? Will I see him again?! Is there something after death?

God, why did you take him from me?

C
HAPTER
21

Chase

W
ould
Jasmine and them come to the tour tonight? Had Benny heard the phone conversation?

With that sick man, I had to prepare for everything. I bought up all the Jack the Ripper tour companies in London, but I was betting on one particular company to lure Benny’s dark side. It was Breaton Tours, the most high-end and learned of them all.

My men researched and discovered that several tours were more imitators. They pointed to any discarded street corner and claimed that Ripper had murdered there. Only one had come highly recommended by all major new outlets in the US. Everyone claimed to be an expert on the psycho killer. Dr. Breaton had written several books on the madman and his unsolved mysteries. The world proclaimed the doctor as the leading authority on Jack the Ripper.

And Benny owned every last one of Dr. Breaton’s books.

If I was Benny, I would take the Dr. Breaton tour.

Earlier this morning, I’d checked Sophia, Sherman, my guards, and I into the Royal Suite at the Mandarin Oriental.

Sophia had warmed to her armed guards, being that she had no other choice. That being said, I was no jail keeper. Her prison would be luxury and paradise, just in case I’d gotten it all wrong about her. Once Sophia met the suite’s butler and stood out on the balcony that overlooked Hyde Park, she relaxed and accepted her temporary prison. It there was one thing I’d understood from Benny’s journals, it was that Sophia needed to feel like a queen in every sense of the word.

The butler took her drink order and then handed her a wooden box with an angel carved on the top. She opened it and eyed me suspiciously. “Are these mine?”

“Yes,” the butler answered before me. “They come with the suite.”

She pulled out gold binoculars. “O-kay.”

The suite also came with original artwork from the local gallery of my choice, I let Sophia pick the place and the art pieces. They delivered it all within the hour, and she giggled as she led the men around and pointed to each wall where a painting should hang.

That’s right. Keep your mind busy with spending my money.

Our butler kept his distance from Sherman, who remained at the dining table the whole time, monitoring us all and never saying anything. He was just so goddamn big, tall, and scary. The scars and dead eyes didn’t help either. He refused eat, get up, and check out his room. I made sure several guards stayed with him.

No wonder Jasmine remained a virgin for so long. No one would be stupid enough to date his sister, while he’s lurking around.

The butler handed Sophia the pillow menu and she almost passed out. It was ten pages with pictures and prices of every pillow the hotel provided for their customer’s comfort.

“This is crazy.” She brought it over to Sherman and set it on the table. “Look. They have every pillow you can think of on this damn menu—ergonomic to orthopedic, plume to … viscoelastic. I have no idea what the last one is, but I’m ordering it.”

The butler took her order and rushed away to put them on her bed.

Sophia faced me. “How much do you have to pay to stay here?”

“I’m not sure. It’s around four or five thousand.”

“For the week?” She tilted her head to the side.

“No, for the night.”

Sophia clapped her hands. “Damn. Now that’s money.”

I gave her the master bedroom. 18
th
century Chinese paintings hung on the wall. Crystal lights framed the massive vanity area to the right. On the left, stood a walk-in wardrobe closet. The bathroom had been done in cream marble. A thousand thread count linen covered the king-sized bed.

Do you like your beautiful jail, Sophia?

For now, she’d have to obey my security or get a bullet in her head, but I would keep her as comfortable as possible. I wasn’t Benny. I didn’t have time for torture or mind games, all I yearned for was Jasmine within my arms.

That’s all I dreamed about. Her small frame against mine. Her breath skipping past my skin as I lapped at her skin and thanked God that she lay right beside me, and not in that madman’s cage.

An abandoned mansion? I’m going to kill him just for that. A destroyed and neglected castle, that’s where you bring your princess? How gone are you, man? This isn’t even the Benny that I secretly respected, far back when you saved Lucy.

But now I’d read it all. He was the devil I’d named him to be. My theories proved to be correct. He’d killed my mother, tortured Dawn and Lucy, and then snatched my tesoro away from me.

I would crush him.

The image of that moment played out in my head like a perfect movie reel of the year’s best blockbuster action thriller.

I could see myself leaping through a closed window.

Why I would jump through a window, I didn’t work out in my head. But it was my fantasy so I jumped through a motherfucking window for my love! I tore away at the wooden pane and roared!

In the imagination, Benny stood in front of me. Rope bound Jasmine to a chair, just like in any other action movie where the villain had just gone too damn far, and everyone was excited to see the hero swoop in and beat his ass.

“Let her go!” I would say, but I’d understand that he’d wouldn’t be that easy.

We would have to fight it out. Man against man. Fists pounding into flesh. Guttural grunts and biting at skin. Punches that knocked teeth out and fractured arms. I craved a hit at his fucking face.

How many times had I beat at my punching bag in the gym with my trainer? How many moments did Benny’s face replace the bag and I pounded even harder than I ever had before?

I am He-Man and this motherfucker is Skeletor!

“Why are you walking like that?” Sophia flipped through a magazine as I headed to the front door of our suite.

“I’ll be back.”

“You sure will be back in that get-up.” She peered over her magazine. “The 1990s called, they want their style back.”

Through my sunglasses, I gazed down at my holey jeans, white wife beater, and leather jacket. “I’m looking like a tourist.”

“In what decade, Chase? Just because people don’t have money, doesn’t mean that they dress badly.”

“I never said that.”

“You look ridiculous. And what’s with the hat?”

“What’s wrong with the hat?” I glanced at the two guards behind her. “You both like my hat?”

They nodded.

“You look like you’re about to raid a lost ark.” Sophia flipped another page. “Or maybe you’re considering exploring a temple of doom.”

One of the guards coughed. Although I could’ve sworn he was hiding a laugh.

I cleared my throat and turned around. “I forgot something.”

“You probably forgot the rope for your last crusade.”

“Okay. I get it.” I walked off to my bedroom. “I look like Indiana Jones.”

“What? No wonder they picked you to search out the kingdom of the crystal statue.”

“It’s
Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull
, not statue.”

I really dislike my mother-in-law. I can’t be the only man that dreams of killing woman’s mom.

Twenty minutes later, I returned with jeans and an Elmo T-shirt. Part of me didn’t care what she thought. The other wondered like a lunatic.

She laughed before I could make it to the door.

I looked back at her. “What?”

She smirked and returned to the magazine. “Nothing.”

“I’m going with single dad on a trip to Europe.”

“Oh okay. Now it makes sense. I thought you were something else.” She grinned.

“What?”

“A pedophile.”

“You would know what a pedophile looks like.”

She didn’t even glance up as she laughed. “Don’t be mad at me that you’re a grown man in holey jeans with kid’s characters on your clothes, but no kids around you. Pedophile.”

I gazed down at my shirt, headed back to the bedroom, and changed.

Minutes passed and I returned only to meet with Sophia’s laughter.

“What now?” I walked by her.

“You look like a male fashion model, straight from the runway. Every woman over eighteen will notice you.”

I stared down at the pants and white button down shirt. “You’re over exaggerating.”

“You need to tone down the swag. It’s in your walk and that confident way you’re holding your face.”

Should I change again? Is she right? What am I doing?

“I should go with you,” she said.

And then it hit me. Perhaps my clothing choices were wrong, but in the end, Sophia was trying to get back into the game.

Not going to happen. Besides, I look like a fashion model in whatever I put on. I’m Chase Stone.

I could hear Jasmine laughing in my head, and wished she was there.

“Goodnight, Sophia.” I gestured for some of my guards to follow.

“Everyone will know who you are as soon as they see you,” she called back.