A Commitment to Love, Book 3 (9 page)

Saliva spewed from the edges of my mouth. I was a madman with no control, waving my closed fists around their heads and hoping, just praying, that one of them would say one more fucking word. Someone deserved to be punched.

“This isn’t a goddamn mystery!” I roared. “You knew who the villain is. I gave you his motherfucking picture, his first and last name, his social security number, height, weight, and a big fucking file with his bio. Do you remember?”

The tall one inched back. The other nodded.

“Tire tracks? We don’t need an ID. We don’t need an expert leaning over the ground and measuring marks in the ground. We need to find Benny Nix.” I came forward and pointed at them both. “You two find her. Find him. Find any fucking body that is connected to this, but most important, you find her, because this is it. This is your legacy. This is your life. This is your children’s lives, and your children’s children’s lives. Because if I don’t have her back to me, I’ll destroy you, and whoever loves you, and whoever depends on you, and anything that you’ve ever built in your life, I’ll hammer it down.”

I took another step toward them. “I’ll eat away at anything good like a fucking cancer.”

One of them gulped. The other might’ve pissed himself. I could’ve sworn the space in front of his pants had shaded to a darker color.

Quiet passed between us. There was nothing else to say so I turned and stormed away.

Why couldn’t you just trust me, Jasmine? Did you think I couldn’t keep you safe?

Not even drunk yet, I stumbled toward my office and paused.

Jasmine.

Her perfume lingered in the office. She’d been here. That was how well I craved her. That was how much she’d etched herself into my life. I could smell where she’d been and when she was coming. I could sense her presence near me, before even seeing her in front of my face.

She was mine.

You came to my office? Why?

I wrestled to open the door, struggling on the knob more because I was going crazy and less because it was locked. If I’d been calm, I would have turned it. Instead, I twisted and snatched at the damn thing, screaming Jasmine’s name inside my head.

Once it opened, I hurried in, searching everywhere for something. Anything. I had no idea what I was looking for, but I knew she’d been there, in my office, at least for the last time.

Did she sit in my chair and think of us? Did she take something to remind her of me? How long did she stand in here, and wonder if she was doing the right thing?

I knew she loved me. I didn’t question that. Everything else made me crazy though. What was going through her head? Why the hell would she leave this way?

Because she knew I wouldn’t let her leave if I was up. I would trap her to me. Box her in. Cage her.

As soon as I reached the desk I spotted the damn letter. “If this one has a smiley face at the end, I’m going to choke her. I won’t block off all the air, but she’ll feel my fingers around her throat. No more letters, tesoro.”

Reluctantly, I picked it up and read.

Dear Chase,

I’m sorry. I know Benny. He will kill you. I can’t let that happen. Our love is not worth your death. Our love is not worth other people’s deaths.

I need you to move on. I’m leaving. Don’t look for me, because you won’t find me.

Let me go.

Jasmine.

My phone rang. I rushed to grab it, hoping it was Jasmine. My father’s image ran across the screen and I pushed the damn device away.

You fucking left me, Jasmine?!

Screams corroded all the thinking parts of my head. My brain was mush. I could not form one thought, just emotions of rage and grief. If someone had witnessed my breakdown, they would’ve guessed that a relative had died. I wanted to scream like one had, just spread my arms out to my sides and wail like a mother who’d lost her child.

Was that what heartbreak really felt like? This excruciating rip of the insides that went on and on and on.

A knock came at the door. Aggravated and broken, I looked up. Maylin scurried in with a tray full of food.

I waved her away. “Unless that’s liquor, you can take it back.”

“Okay, sir.” She edged away and paused. “But, sir, there is someone downstairs to meet you.”

“Who?”

“A Mrs. Montgomery.”

I grimaced. “What? Jasmine?”

“No. She looks like Jasmine, but an older version. Not that I think all black people look the same. But this woman and Jasmine look the same. Except, this woman is darker and older. Not that she’s old, but more mature. Well that’s not a good word, more—”

“I got it.” I held up my hand and walked over to the small bar in the corner of my home office. “Send her upstairs.”

“And the food?”

“Take it back.”

Maylin watched me pick up a certain bottle, the one I saved for emergencies, the one thing that could cheer me up in times of chaos. I’d had to drink from a bottle like this before. Three other times to be exact, the moments when my past three girlfriends had been murdered.

“You should probably have food, if you’re going to drink,” Maylin said.

“Send Mrs. Montgomery up, please.”

“Okay, sir.” She glanced at the bottle again, and then left.

I thought back to Jasmine’s little good-bye note.

“Our love isn’t worth other people’s deaths?” I turned the big bottle in my hand. “Says who, Jasmine? Let them all die around us. I’m not letting you go.”

Jasmine loved food. I had a thing for liquor, but I didn’t partake much. Yet, when I sipped, the liquid was more than blocks of gold.

A bottle of Louis XIII Black Pearl sat in my hands. Before one could even open the bottle, they had to marvel in the glamourous design. As the name suggested, the bottle was the color of a black pearl, shiny and made from some futuristic crystal. The liquid evoked turbulence, just like my jet engines. The high came fast, but smooth. The taste blended honeysuckle with passion fruit, nutmeg with ginger.

Paul-Emile Remy Martin created the drink in 1874. Louis XIII was the rave of the decade. The Cognac of Kings. Royalty served it to Queen Elizabeth. Winston Churchill drank it during his stay in the Aix-en-Provence of France.

At a 100 years old, the liquid aged in an oak barrel that was several hundred years old themselves. Four generations of Cellar Masters tended to it and used the grapes from the Grand Champagne area. It was a limited edition cognac individually numbered from one to 786 dark crystal decanters and priced at $3,400 per bottle.

“Do your magic.” I broke the seal and pulled out the top. A haunting fragrance drifted from the opening. I inhaled it, and hoped that I would never have to smell the scent again. This was a sick tradition in itself. Swimming in expensive liquid, due to the loss of another girl.

Not a girl. An amazing woman. One that loves me just because I’m me, not because I’m Chase Stone. She was never impressed with that part of me. I got her because she was mine. We were made for each other. And I didn’t lose her. Don’t say that.

A woman’s voice sounded behind me. “Your father loved cognac, too.”

Sophia. No wonder Maylin thought the woman looked like Jasmine.

I kept my back to Jasmine’s mother and poured a glass. “You knew my father?”

“Yes. I thought that was assumed.”

“Why?”

“Because we all hung out in that time.”

“His friends and Benny?”

“All of us.”

I put the top in the bottle, knowing I’d be pulling it back out soon, as I chased Benny and Jasmine all over the earth. And I would. I’d chase her until I had no breath left.

With the glass in hand, I turned around and tried to face Jasmine’s mother. “Why did you come to visit us, today?”

“Several reasons.” Her gaze fell on my hand. “Is that my glass?”

“Of course. Sorry. I just woke up.” I brought it over to her.

“Thank you.” She didn’t get the glass from my hand, instead she gestured for me to follow her to the chair. I did.

I can’t deal with her today.

Sophia moved like she’d practiced it for years. With each step her pinkie flickered to the side and her hips twisted. She was the opposite of Jasmine, exactly the type of women I was used to dealing with. Fake and greedy. Sophia was someone I didn’t want to rumble with. She rubbed me the wrong way, many times, and I could never pinpoint how it started or why.

Sitting down in her chair, she crossed her legs, took the glass from my hands, and sipped it with one elegant movement. After she swallowed, a smile spread across her face. “Louis XIII?”

“You know your cognac.”

“No, I know my men.” Sophia must’ve had a love for acting, when she was young. I’d dated a lot of theater girls in college. They always spoke with their hands. With Sophia, the beginning of a sentence began with a flick of her index finger. During long sentences she drew invisible squiggly lines as if trying to hypnotize me.

That time, she flicked her index finger and then formed a large heart around her. Or maybe it was just my imagination.

I blinked my eyes. “What did you say?”

“Never mind.” She took another sip. “Why wasn’t I invited to the Masquerade Ball?”

I rubbed my face and headed back to the bar to pour another glass for myself. “Jasmine decided that only my friends should be there. She thought the party was ridiculous, and this was about introducing her to my world.”

“Are we all not a part of your world now? This is my daughter. I am her family.”

“Yes. I understand.” I probably filled my glass with more than I needed to. “I explained that to Jasmine, but she was pretty … serious about not wanting to invite her family and friends.”

“I thought we were working together toward the same goal, Chase. Was I wrong?”

I raised the glass to my lips and took a long gulp. The cognac stung my tongue, but not for long. The rest was a smooth ride. A surge of numbness split every one of my cells.

“Chase?”

“Yes.” I took another gulp.

“Are you okay?”

“No.” Third gulp came harder and ripped through my throat.

“Where’s my daughter?”

I turned around and headed to my chair. “In the city.”

“I don’t believe you.”

I plopped into my chair. “Why would I lie?”

“Because you’re a man.”

“I don’t know how I should take that.”

“It’s just a simple fact that men are stupid. They drag things out further than they need to.” She set her empty glass on my desk and lay back in her chair. “I was coming over here this morning regardless. No way was I going to let my daughter think that she could just run off and …”

Our love isn’t worth other people’s deaths? Let them all die. I can’t live without you, Jasmine.

“… and I knew it was Benny.”

I snapped my attention to Sophia. “What?”

“I said when I heard about the dead girl on the news—”

“What dead girl?”

“At the ball, Chase.” She chopped the air with one hand. “Keep up. I saw the news last night. The whole city is talking about your ex-girlfriend’s corpse hanging like a decoration at the masquerade ball. There’s some gruesome pictures going around all over the net from the few guests that snapped pictures on their phones. Why someone would do that, I don’t know. I would just be running out of there. It’s insanity—”

“What were you saying about Benny?”

“I said the news claims that Stone Industries has no idea who did it, but I know. Benny did it.” She rose from her chair, picked up her glass, and took it over to the bar. “This is classic Benny. He’s always so dramatic and has absolutely no regard for human life.”

And you chose this man to have twins with?

“That’s when I decided to rush over here this morning, before Jasmine and you did anything stupid.” Without asking, she served herself more cognac. “If he’s dangling dead white girls out in front of the world, then he’s out of control, which means he’s mad. He doesn’t like you or your father. He’s been adamant about that as long as I’ve known him. Now for you to fall in love with Jasmine … well, that was just too much for him.”

I finished my glass. “Jasmine is missing.”

“No, she’s not missing.” She faced me. “Is she?”

“No.”

“She left.”

“Yes.”

“Because Benny said what?”

“That we couldn’t be together.”

“This is classic Romeo and Juliet. It’s just that Juliet’s father is a deranged serial killer.”

“Serial killer?”

“A man that murders a lot of people in a ritualistic manner. That’s him. I’ve known him for over twenty years. Benny is dangerous, and he won’t leave you alone until he believes he’s received some sort of justice or what he rightfully deserves. It took me years to shake him, and even now …” She looked away for a few seconds. “Even now … I don’t know if I shook him.”

“He still comes by?”

She took that moment to sip her drink. “When did Jasmine leave?”