Page 47 of Remiss
“You’re a fucking liar, Ryan,” Rory cut in. “My dad told me he removed the information.”
“As his dutiful son, of course you believe him,” Devon said sarcastically.
“Shut up, Devon,” Rory snapped. “I tried to confess to CJ, but he was distracted by the Terrible Triplets. If he hadn’t been they would’ve let mice gnaw my dad to death. After that, I never worked up the courage again…” His voice trailed off and his eyes widened.
So did Ryan’s and Devon’s.
“Those three can’t ever know,” Rory said faintly. “Ever.”
“What about CJ?” Devon asked.
Unlike with the Rory situation, he’d consider this personal.
“We need to deconstruct this one at a time,” Devon said, setting his phone next to him. “First, call Willard. Ask about Molly.”
Bleakness filled him, so Ryan couldn’t think of a reason not to follow his brother’s orders. Once he dialed Willard’s number, he placed it on speaker.
“What, cuck?” the overgrown motherfucker demanded.
Once, Ryan had thought him so fucking cool and brave. He’d actuallyadmiredhim. “Where’s Molly, Willard?”
He snickered. “Around.”
“If I don’t get proof of life in the next hour, the videos end.” Realizing Willard might mention Mattie, Ryan held his breath, then quickly thought of something else to say. “If you want to lose the closest you’ll ever come to a girl like Rebel, that’s on you.”
Willard huffed. “Molly’s here.”
“When am I getting her back?” Ryan demanded, unable to meet either Devon or Rory’s eyes, but feeling the heat of their gazes lasering him. “And if she’s there, I need fucking proof.”
“Where’s my momma? Tell me that, then maybe I’ll send you proof.”
Ryan was so fucking tired of Willard’s games. Humiliating Harley had graduated to almost all of Ryan’s female cousins. Now, he wanted to know his mother’s whereabouts, which Ryan absolutely couldn’t reveal.
“Fuck you,” he snapped. “I’m not playing this game with you. Our deal was for the videos in exchange for Molly’s return. I’ve kept my end of the bargain. You haven’t kept yours.”
“Hold on, twat face.” Indistinguishable sounds traveled on the phone for a moment or two, then a door creaked open.
“Get out, Willard.”
DeLuca?
Ryan shifted, discomfort swirling in him.
“Ryan wants proof this cunt is still alive,” Willard grumbled, “so wake her up.”
“Get the fuckout. I’m not waking her up. She’s in too much pain.”
Ryan swallowed.
“Hold on.” The conversation was background noise, then Willard spoke directly into the phone again. “Taylor?”
“What’s wrong with her?” Ryan demanded.
“None of your fucking business. I’ll send you a photo of her and screenshot the metadata to prove I took it today. She’s aliveand if you want to keep her that way, don’t stop those fucking videos untilIsay so. And I’m warning you if you tellanybody, she’ll die a gruesome death,” he spat, then the line went dead.
Neither Ryan, Devon, nor Rory spoke until the photos came through. When it did, they crowded around his chair to see. She was pale and skinny, bloody bandages in three different places on her body.
“They shot her,” Ryan whispered, devastated all over again, his mind racing. “Because of me. I haven’t sent any videos in a couple of days.”
