A Commitment to Love, Book 3 (25 page)

Where are you from, you sick, twisted bastard?

The engine started. Under my feet, the plane’s floor hummed to life. I strapped myself in as we made our way around the airport. Outside, the sun climbed down the sky’s steps, weary and exhausted. Orange flames trailed at his back and melted into subtle shades of darkness—violent violets and bruising blacks.

My plane zipped by the others. Like it was on a mission to save the world.

Maybe we are. A world without Benny is a good one to live in.

The plane took off and I returned myself back to the mystery, flipping through pages and pages of Benny’s nonsense, searching for something
.
It was all red slashes of words on dulled, wrinkled paper. Every other chapter, he drew odd symbols—triangles inside of double circles, bent squares with dots in the corners, ovals attached to rectangles full of tiny smiley faces. None of the illustrations made sense. None of the chapters flowed together.

How long has he been recording his thoughts?

After a good hour of piling through all of his notebooks, I stopped at the end of the fifth one and grinned.

The first chapter read
The Story of My Life.

…
The great Bells of St Mary-le-Bow Church are known as Bow Bells. If you’re born when they rang, then you’re considered a Cockney.

I’m a Cockney.

I wear the name with pride.

Others didn’t.

Some felt ashamed …

Was it the truth or more nonsense? Could I really be this lucky in this horrific week? Will it all be this simple? He’s a cockney.

The book fell from my hands. I rushed up to standing position, banging my knee against the chair’s arm as I raced to the cockpit. It was the fourth time I’d banged my damn leg today. Jasmine’s absence had me looking like a grumpy, drunken idiot to my staff and guards. I probably wasn’t the only one that prayed for her return.

Cockney, huh? I got you, Benny.

They all tried to keep me out—Troy thought I would be better far away from Jasmine, and she mistakenly believed it. Their mom thought she could toy with my mind and drag me around by a leash. Benny believed he could bully me and take away everyone I loved. The time for making friends and being nice had ended.

These next days would play out like a well-orchestrated symphony toward death.

Benny’s death.

Anger coursed through my veins and froze my blood. Pressure nudged at my ears as I made it through to the cockpit. It was the worst part about flying. The ringing and pain in the ears. I knocked on the door and decided not to wait for an invitation. The pilot and co-pilot jerked a little as I rushed in.

“Change in plans.” My breath left me in a burst of wind. “We’re going to London.”

The co-pilot seemed to look behind me as if wondering where the stewardess had gone and why she hadn’t stopped and talked to me first.

He cleared his throat. “We’ll need to get permission to—”

“Get what you have to get done, and make sure it is as soon as possible.”

“Okay, sir.” The co-pilot nodded. “But, we will need to you to understand that complications may—”

“There are no buts!” I yelled at him. “You don’t get paid for buts. When we land, we land in London. If not, then kiss your family good-bye. Their blood will pour all over the streets. Do you hear me?”

The pilot’s face reddened as his mouth dropped open. “I just wanted to say that it might be an hour delay. That’s all.”

Suddenly, the room closed in on me.

I may need to stop reading Benny’s journals. That was a bit too gangster just now.

I cleared my throat. “Of course.”

“It wouldn’t be difficult to change the destination, sir.”

“Yes, that makes sense.” I forced myself to calm down. “I’m sorry. That will be fine.”

They said nothing else. And I lingered in there, standing in uncomfortable silence. After several seconds, I scratched my head. “I just want to apologize about that comment earlier. The little threat. I’ve been under a bit of stress.”

The co-pilot kept his attention on the sky. “We understand, sir.”

I placed Benny’s journal behind me. “I’ve also been watching a lot of gangster movies. You know the classics—
Godfather
,
Casino
,
Goodfellas
, all of those. I don’t usually threaten my employees and their families. I’ve never done anything to anyone’s family. That’s just crazy.”

No one responded.

I backed away. “Thank you very much for your service.”

“You’re welcome, sir. We should be in London in six hours.”

“Good.” I nodded. “Yes, that’s good. And … about your family. Again, not my usual.”

“No problem, sir.”

“Okay.” I fled the cockpit, before I threatened them anymore and had us all crashing into the ocean.

C
HAPTER
14

Jasmine

N
o
rain decorated the London sky. Today showed clear blue skies and sun.

Troy held the door open for us as we walked inside Westminster Abbey. Scattered chatter mingled around low chanting of some sort. I wondered if they played music or had a ceremony going on somewhere off in the distance. It sounded like monks humming or nuns singing low in prayer. Something spiritual. But I didn’t see anything besides people moving throughout the space and drinking the Abbey’s gothic beauty in.

Ignoring the splendor, Troy finished our conversation from the tube ride. “Maybe we should put a pillow over his head while he’s asleep and suffocate him.”

Vivian snorted. “Dad’s a light sleeper. He’ll wake up before the door is open.”

“And he has guards all over the place.” I pulled my phone out to take some pictures. “They’re watching us, and protecting him.”

“Give me your phone.” Vivian held out her hand. “You suck at taking pictures.”

“Everyone’s a freaking critic.” I handed it to her.

“You almost always cut off someone’s head, when you take it,” she added. “And you have a talent for snapping the picture right as my face is in some distorted blah expression.”

“Lies. All lies. Your face always looks like that.” I stuck out my tongue. “I can’t make you look beautiful.”

“Yet, any picture that anyone else takes looks just fine.”

“Where are these mystery photos?”

“Ladies, focus.” Troy guided us forward to explore more of what the tour books called Royal London. “We need to figure out a way to kill Benny. We only have a little time to discuss this. And I thought I told you to turn the phone off?”

“Benny gave us the phone back to take pictures.” I grabbed it from Vivian.

“Yeah, because it’s probably bugged. Turn it off.”

I shut it down.

“Can we talk about something else besides death right now?” Vivian asked.

“No,” Troy said. “Shit is about to go down.”

Troy can hear it, too? He can hear the tick tock just like me?

An invisible death clock ticked loud in my ears. Ever since the phone call to Chase, some impending future doom swarmed over our family. Chase coming our way wouldn’t be a good thing. Mom with him was even worse. Add a handcuffed Sherman to the mix and a psychotic Benny, and we had the right ingredients for an atomic bomb.

Chase sat on a plane with my mother and brother. He claimed to be heading my way, and with his stubborn, hard head I was sure he would find me.

If not this day, then definitely another.

I thought he would swim in depression for a few days. A stupid part of me figured he’d understand why I left, accept defeat, and move on.

No way. Not my Chase.

Motivation kept his heart booming in his chest. Chase wouldn’t let me go. He wouldn’t give up on fighting Benny. If anything, the fight had shifted to a bloody war, and London would be the battlefield.

And this city damn sure has known blood.

Touring Royal London, I’d learned enough about the city’s haunting British history. The residents had given that section its imperial name because it made up the triangle of streets Queen Elizabeth II took when processing from Buckingham Palace to Westminster or to the Houses of Parliament on state occasions. Even though we’d rushed out this morning, after smoking, people flooded the streets. Everyone wanted an inside-look into how luxury moved around the city.

I held my hands in front of my face and sniffed them. “Do I smell like marijuana?”

“How many times are you going to ask me that?” Vivian said.

“This place is creepy.” Troy looked up at the high gothic ceiling. “Let’s go somewhere else.”

“It’s crowded, too.” Vivian paused in the hallway, which made us stand next to her.

We’d arrived at the Abbey early, but it still didn’t matter. The doors opened at 9:30 a.m. We’d gotten there a couple hours before lunch and still we drowned in tourist traffic. Voices rose around us. A few people had already bumped into my shoulder, their eyes staring everywhere but in front of them.

“We’re staying here.” I opened the book. “There’s no way that Benny put microphones in the Abbey. His guards are waiting outside and have eyes on all of the exits. We can walk around in here for the rest of the day and make a plan.”

Troy frowned. “This place looks like Dracula’s castle.”

“This place is where kings have been crowned,” I countered. “There’s been tons of coronations, and several royal weddings. This is not Dracula’s castle.”

“Well I was close. This place is for the royals? Then some vampires did walk through here. Everyone knows that the fastest way to power is to suck out the poor’s blood.”

“Interesting. I thought power came from education and sheer determination.” I flipped a page and searched around for things that matched what I’d spotted in my book. “Okay, we’re at the North Entrance. Soon as these slow ass people get out of the way, we can check out the Coronation Chair.”

“Why?” Troy raised his eyebrows. “Why do I want to see where old people rested their asses as someone put a crown on their head?”

“Because …” I turned to Vivian. “Help me out with this.”

“Don’t look at me. I have no idea why people would want to see a chair.”

I glanced up from the book. “But touring Royal London was your idea.”

“I thought it would be more fun.”

“Oh forget both of you.” I got in front of them and walked away. “We’ll skip the chair, bypass a lot of the other highlights, and head straight to Poet’s Corner.”

“Sounds boring.” Troy matched my pace. “What’s in Poet’s Corner?”

“Famous writers are buried there—Jane Austen to Charles Dickens, William Shakespeare to William Wordsworth.”

Vivian mumbled, “I’d rather see the Coronation Chair.”

I picked up my pace.

How the hell are they not impressed with this church?

As soon as we’d stepped in front of the palace, my mood had lifted. The Abbey towers shot into the air and pointed to the sky. Immaculate carvings peered out of long, stone walls. Energy prickled against my skin, as if God came here and left parts of himself with each visit.

I wasn’t a spiritual person, had never been to church besides the few times Vivian’s mother took Troy and me. However, these days called for a bigger presence in my life. I needed something to grab onto and help me stay solid and whole. There was something so beautiful about having a great being watching over me every day, whether I slept or not, whether I understood him or not.

I made the Abbey our first stop because I needed strength. Whatever I hoped to get, whether an answer from God, a powerful spirit, or just plain saintly luck, I believed I would get here, within the walls of the greatest creations carved, built, and painted for the grace of God.

I’m just not sure how to appropriately pray on help to kill somebody. What do you say? Dear Lord, please give me the strength to take their life.

The British Royals definitely knew how to pray in luxury. A white vaulted ceiling hovered above us. The place commanded a holy elegance, if that was even a term one would use amongst so many godly statues and art.