Forbidden Innocence: Tales of the Forbidden (14 page)

* * * *

Blaine leaned against the mantle of the fireplace, a cigar in his mouth, a drink resting on top and his friends gathered around him. His mind, he thought, should be on the letter and what Joann told him and what Owen might be up to. Instead, he thought about Shyla and how he was starting to feel for her. Things were changing and changing fast for him. “You’re too quiet, man,” Devon said.

“Am I?” Blaine took a drag blew the smoke out but didn’t turn around.

“Why would she lie to you?” Dane asked, tossing the letter aside.

He was the last one to read it.

“Why do any of us lie?” Darius tossed back.

Blaine didn’t have to look over his shoulder to know that Dane was watching Darius closely. For the past few days Darius has made himself as scarce as he could and the others were starting to wonder as to why.

“What you thinking, Blaine?” Devon asked.

“I’m thinking that Owen is planning something.” He pulled his cigar out of his mouth, tossed it into the fire and turned around to face his friends. “He’s working on something only I don’t have a fucking clue what it is.”

“But what is the gut telling you?” Devon asked again.

“To keep Shyla as close to me as I can,” he answered, pulling out another cigar from his pocket and lighting it.

“Can you really do that?” Dane asked this time. “I mean, you don’t want to keep her locked up here. Hell, that’s like her being in the Compound still.”

“Then what else would you fucking suggest I do?” Blaine snapped, 119

his anger surfacing faster than what he could control. “Let the bastard get his hands on her? He’d tear her apart, just like Joann.”

“Excuse me, sir.” Randal walked into the study with a package in hand. “This just came for you and the boy said it was very important.”

“Thank you, Randal.” Blaine took the package and ripped it open.

He stared down at a cell phone. He flipped it open and the thing instantly dialled a number. “Hello?”

“We need to talk.”
Owen!

“What the fuck you want, Owen?” Blaine growled the words and held the phone so tightly he feared it might crack under his fingers.

“I want to meet and talk. We really do need to talk, Blaine, don’t you think? And since I didn’t have your phone number, thought I’d send you a phone so we can chat.”

If he didn’t know better, Blaine would’ve swore he heard humour in his voice. “I think you need to go back to whatever shithole you came out of.”

Owen laughed, “Blaine, you never seem to disappoint me. But do trust me this one time when I say we need to meet face to face. Twenty minutes in the field behind the Compound, and please make sure your friends stay home. I hate unexpected guests.” The phone went dead and Blaine lost his control, throwing it as hard as he could against the wall.

“Care to share that?” Devon asked.

“Owen,” Blaine barked. “Playing his fucking games again.”

Blaine didn’t bother with the guys anymore. He stormed from the study, rushed to the stairs and went up two, then three steps at a time. He needed to talk to Shyla, needed to assure himself that she was fine and would stay put until after this meeting Owen demanded.

“Shyla—” He went into the bedroom only to stop dead in his tracks.

She wasn’t there and something felt off in the room as well.

He went to the bathroom, opened the door and nada.

“Mr. Cedric!” Sally’s yell brought him back out to the hallway. She was running up the stairs, waving a letter in her hand.

“Sally?”

“Oh, my God, Linda!” Sally huffed. “She’s done something. Oh, Lord help us all!”

Sally handed him the letter, which Blaine quickly read.

Mr. Cedric, I’m so sorry. Owen Paterio kidnapped my brother,
forcing me to drug Mrs. Cedric and bring her to him. I feared he would
kill my brother if I did not do what he wanted. I’m so sorry.

120

Linda

“That motherfucker!” Blaine yelled, fisting the note in a ball, throwing it away.

Blaine didn’t look at Sally. He went around her, ran back down the stairs and right out the front door into his waiting car. He sped away, tossing up gravel behind him.

* * * *

“What the hell was that?” Darius rushed to the window, flipping back curtains, watching Blaine take off like the gates of hell were on his ass. “Blaine’s leaving.” “What?” Devon snapped.

Darius turned away from the window as Devon and Dane rushed to it. He yanked the door open just as Sally came down the stairs, a wrinkled piece of paper in her hand.

“What happened?” he asked her.

“It’s Linda,” Sally huffed, clearly out of breath. “She helped that Owen guy take Ms. Shyla.”

“God damn-it!”

“He had her brother and threatened to kill him unless she helped.”

“Argh!” Darius turned and went back to Devon and Dane in the study. “Owen has her. Blaine just went to meet him. Fuck!”

“How the hell did he get her out of the house?” Dane asked.

“I don’t know, but we need to find him and fast,” Darius said. “Lord only knows what that dick will do to Blaine.”

* * * *

Blaine passed the wet grass waiting for Owen to show up. His anger boiled over. He didn’t like getting fucked over. Owen had the upper hand and Blaine had no clue how that happened. Lights shined in the dark, got closer and blinded Blaine. He brought his hand up, shielding his eyes while the car pulled up, stopped and the back door opened. Owen stepped out looked around and his hand went up to his tie. No one else got out of the car with him.

“Where is she?” Blaine asked.

Owen smiled at him. “No hello? Here I thought you had some manners, Blaine.”

Blaine reached behind his back, pulled out his hand gun and cocked it, aiming for Owen’s head. “Where the fuck is my wife, Owen?”

Owen made a tasking sound, shaking his head. “How rude.”

Blaine didn’t see the men behind him or the bat that went up in the 121

air, landing right behind his legs, knocking him down to the ground.

Another hit to his arm, the gun went flying. Kick to the ribs, and he gasped for air.

“That’s enough,” Owen said, stopping the beating. “He isn’t useful to me all beat to hell.”

One more kick to his gut and the men backed away. Blaine tried like hell to catch his breath. Each one he took a sharp pin needle pain hit him.

“Help him up now.” The men took hold of his arms, jerking Blaine to his feet, holding him tight and steady. Owen came up to him, a smile on his face. He looked Blaine up and down. “You had asked me what I wanted so now I’m going to tell you. My son. I want the son you stole from me, Blaine. Bring him to me, and I’ll give you your wife back.”

“I don’t have your son,” Blaine gasped. “He died with her.”

Owen grabbed Blaine’s chin roughly. “We both know that is a load of bullshit. You see, I looked into it. Call it the only wisdom my father ever gave me. Never trust anyone that might be a friend, and never trust some bitch who says she’s pregnant. So you see, back then when Joann told me she was pregnant I didn’t believe her, because after all, she was going to marry you.” He shoved Blaine’s face away, wiggling his finger in the air. “Then I thought about it. Our one night together could have, and if she was having my child then I wouldn’t need to get married and do all that shit for my heir. She did it for me,” he laughed.

“She aborted it and died!” Blaine tried again. “You killed her that night, so she killed it.”

Owen struck hard and fast. He hit Blaine in the face, busting his lip open. “Let’s try this again, shall we? I want my son, and you’re going to get him back for me. Is that understood?”

“You’re out of your mind!” Blaine lunged for him, or tried to. It got him another hard hit to the gut.

“I’m going to break it down even more for you.” Owen tapped a finger on his lips, a small grin in place. “You have twenty-four hours to locate and bring my son home to me. If you don’t, then I’m going to keep your wife and,” he shrugged. “Have her give me a replacement.”

Again Blaine lunged, only to be stopped by the two holding him. So Blaine decided to try a different tactic. “Owen, I don’t know anything about the kid. When I got there, Joann was dead. I don’t know if the baby lived or not.”

This time Owen backhanded him. “Lie to me again, and I’ll make damn sure the trip to my son is harder. Find her father, find my son.” He nodded to the men, and one stuck him in the arm with a needle. “Time’s 122

ticking, Blaine. Don’t piss what little of it you have away.”

Blaine felt light headed and his body heavy. The two holding him let him go and Blaine dropped to the wet ground face first. Everything began to spin and getting up or keeping his eyes open, seemed to be an impossible task. With blurry eyes, he watched Owen and his men walk away, back towards the car. They got in and drove away.

Somehow, Blaine managed to get his phone out of his pocket.

Rolling to his back he fought the drug and dialled a number. Which one of the three he called, he had no clue. His eyes were dropping.

“Blaine! Blaine, where the hell are you?”

Was that Darius or Devon? “Field, Compound,” he rasped out.

“Help me!” and then he lost the fight. Everything around him went dark.

123

Shyla woke slowly, feeling drugged and heavy. She brought up her hand to her face and had one hell of a time holding it up. It felt like it weighed a ton. But what had her jolting herself awake fully was the simple fact that she felt like she was naked under the thin sheet.

Her eyes opened for her, she sat up in the bed, sheet to her chest, and gaped in shock. The bedroom she happened to be in wasn’t hers.

Dark wood walls and furniture. The bed she was on rose high off the floor and had two steps to ease going up and down. Then the door opened and in came a large woman with something light sliver draped over her arm.

“Good, you’re awake,” she said, walking in like she owned the place. Shyla watched her go over to a door, open it, showing Shyla the bathroom. “Your presence has been requested to join Mr. Paterio for dinner. Put this on. I’ll be in the hall.”

Shyla took the silver silk from her. A long sleeveless dress with matching strapped heels. The woman nodded, turned and left, closing the door behind her. Slowly Shyla got out of the bed, went into the bathroom and used the toilet. She splashed cold water on her face, clearing the sleepiness still in her eyes.

She dressed, slipped into the shoes and took a deep breath, opening the door. True to the woman’s" word, she stood out in the hallway waiting on Shyla.

Shyla followed her down a short marble white hallway, down marble steps and around a corner to a formal dining room. A man sat at the head of the long table, drink in hand. His cold eyes followed her as she moved, taking the seat to his right that another woman held for her.

“Thank you, Janet,” the man said. The woman nodded, turned and 124

left. He put the glass he held down on the table and smiled at her. “I must say, you are very lovely. Silver looks very nice on you.”

“Who are you?” she asked.

He made a motion with his hand and two men came out with trays in their hands. They placed both trays in front of them and took the lids off.

Shrimp bowls with sauce. He took the tail of one, dipped it and brought it to his mouth. Shyla watched his every move, not touching the food in front of her.

“You really don’t remember me,” he said after wiping his mouth with a napkin. She shook her head. “Pity. I never forgot you.”

Then it dawned on her, and her gut dropped. “You’re Owen,” she whispered.

He smiled. “See, you do remember me.” He put another large shrimp in his mouth before waving to the servant to come and get the plates.

“What do you want?” She could barely get the question out. Her hands shook with her fear and her stomach rolled.

“My son,” he said, picking up his glass, taking a drink. “See, I know for a fact that Blaine knows where he is.” The servants came back out, put plates in front of them and once more took lids off. “Ah, beef wellington. One of my favourites.”

Steak wrapped in a pastry, cut in half sat on her plate. Next to it, creamy mashed potatoes and some vegetables. A small crystal cut bowl held a dark brown sauce that Owen poured over his meat right before cutting into it.

“You really should try and eat something,” he said. “I would hate to tell Blaine that you got sick because you refused to eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“That’s a shame.” Again, he wiped his mouth and reached for the wine glass. “I heard you enjoy steak. Wellington is very nice and tender.”

“Are you going to hurt me like you did Blaine’s fiancé?”

Owen’s arm stopped about halfway up to his mouth food. The fork went back down to the plate and his eyes, no longer friendly, turned to her. “She was never his fiancée. Joann belonged to me. I simply reminded her of this fact.”

Shyla swallowed hard. “You mean you hurt her.”

Again he smiled at her, but didn’t deny or admit he hurt Joann.

Shyla sat there watching him eat his meal, touching nothing. Once he finished, he motioned for it to be taken away and the final course 125

brought in—dessert. He ate that as well, nodded and pushed away from the table, tossing his napkin over the now empty plate. Her chair was also pulled out for her and she knew without a doubt she was to follow him into the other room—she soon saw—a library.

Owen sat down with a loud sigh. “You really should’ve tried the food. The cook outdid himself tonight.”

“It wasn’t the food, but more like the company that stopped me.”

She moved to the far end of the table, sitting down slowly, keeping her eye on him.

Owen laughed, “You know I didn’t think you had the fire in you.

But I can see that time with Blaine put some in. Good,” he nodded. “I would hate to have you timid all the time. Make things boring around here.”

A servant brought in a tray and served coffee into cups, then crystal glasses filled with ice and liquor of some kind. Owen went for the coffee first, picking up the cup, sipping it.

“What are you using me for?” she asked.

He finished his coffee, put the cup back on the tray and then took hold of the crystal glass with the liquor. “It’s very simple. He wants you back then he’ll get my son back.”

Shyla crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at him. “Somehow I doubt anything with you is that simple.”