Page 28 of The Midnight Club
“I know, and everyone has been wonderful, especially you and Maceo. I just feel this emptiness.”
It hadn’t helped that Tyson Janek had been all over the news, giving interviews about the tragic death of his son, giving a performance so convincing that for a second Ori could almost believe he was in mourning. But then Tyson would look into the camera and beg Ori to “Come home. Let us be a family for AJ’s sake.”
Bastard.Ori would grit her teeth, her eyes filled with tears, and shut off the television. She hid her despair as best she could from Maceo, but it had been a subdued homecoming.
She and Luciawent to grab something to eat, but Ori was nearly asleep by the time Lucia called one of Maceo’s security guards to take her friend home. Ori dragged her feet as she walked into the large, luxurious penthouse she called home. Maceo had called her and told her he would be home later; he was meeting with some prospective buyers at an artist’s studio across the city. So Ori drew a hot bath and soaked in it, her head resting against the cool tile of the bathroom.
Her phone rang just as she was getting dressed. Pulling her robe on, she grabbed it and, without checking the caller ID, said hello.
“Hello, Orianthi.”
Ori frowned. She didn’t recognize the voice. “Who is this?”
“You’ll find out. Orianthi, would you do me a favor?”
Ori sighed. “Look, whoever you are, I’m not in the mood, so….”
“I thought you looked lovely tonight, at the restaurant with your friend.”
The shock slammed into her. “What?”
“You heard me. I was close, Orianthi. Very close. But not as close as I was in San Francisco.”
Him.Ori’s knees felt shaky, and she sat down on the bed. “What do you want?”
He laughed. “You.”
Ori drew in a breath. “You can’t have me, whoever you are. I am not a possession for you to acquire or whatever the hell it is you want. Get help, freak, and don’t come near me again.”
A small pause. “The favor I ask is this. Go to this website and see.” He gave her a short web address. “You should see it, Orianthi. You’ll learn something about your future.”
The line went dead.What the fuck?Ori closed her eyes and let out a shaky breath. She had enough to deal with Tyson and now someone else? Or was it someone playing a sick joke?
Reluctantly, she grabbed her iPad and brought up the website her caller had mentioned.
And she froze.
There were two photographs on the website’s only page. One depicted a dead woman, a crossbow bolt buried deep her belly, her blood spilling from the wound. If Ori hadn’t known for sure it wasn’t herself, she would have sworn it was a picture of her.Viola.Under her photograph was one word:Dusk.
The other photowasof Ori herself in the hotel room in San Francisco, unconscious, her T-shirt pulled up and a knife placed on her stomach. Underneath, it read:Eventide. The message was clear. Someone had murdered Viola, and now he was telling the world that Ori herself was next.
Ori dropped her iPad and ran for the bathroom, only just making it before she threw up again and again, sobbing all her fear out.
Maceo found her still hunched over in the bathroom a couple of hours later and when he picked her up and cradled her in his arms, it was all he could do to make out her garbled words. When he understood, his blood turned to ice.
“He’s going to kill me,” she said, defeated. “He’s going to kill me, and I don’t know how we’re going to stop him.”
Tyson Janek had expectedthe police to question him about the attack on Ori in San Francisco but no one had contacted him. He was a little pissed—whoever had attacked Ori hadn’t been in his employ, but he wanted to have the opportunity to talk to the police so he could try and glean some clues to who it might have been and who was infringing on his territory. It was bad enough that that bastard Bartoli was fucking his angel; now someone else wanted to kill her? No. This would not be borne.
Despite this, he talked to every one of his staff, asking them if they had gone rogue and attacked Ori. They all denied it. Good. They were aware that only he, Tyson Janek, would put his hands on her. The consequences of their disobedience, he told them, would be catastrophic. They got the message.
He’d had Maceo Bartoli followed and knew they were now back in Venice.Good.Being at home granted them some complacency, and at least Tyson knew where Ori would be. He would have to postpone his plan to kill her; doing it now would only endanger the fragile platform he was building. He had the press’ sympathy about AJ –best not risk that. Quietly, some of his party faithful were talking about bringing him back into the fold, and today he would fly to D.C. to have closed door meetings with them.
Yes, at last, his career was beginning to resurrect itself and he would not risk that.Yet.
He was lost in thought when his aide came to find him. “Boss, there’s something you need to take a look at.”
Tyson took the iPad from his hand and glanced at it. For a long moment he studied the two photographs, then glanced up at the aide with anger in his eyes. “Call the media team. I want them here. Now.”
