My Fault (Culpable Book 1)

When we confirmed that the car still had the GPS chip active, it was just a matter of time till we found Noah. Or so I hoped. There was always the chance that Ronnie didn’t have the car parked wherever they were keeping Noah, but I couldn’t let that stop me. I knew he’d hardly been seen without that car lately, so there was a good chance he’d locked her up somewhere in the dingy club the GPS showed the car was parked at.

My father spoke to the cops, who planned what our next step should be. His office was swarming with people. Several agents were looking over the blueprints of the club with Steve. The most likely thing was that they had her in the basement on the west side of the building. If we cornered them, blocking off the main exits, her father could only get out one way, and that was the fire exit in the back. That was where the rest of the unit would wait, and if he came out, there’d be no turning back. That son of a bitch would be back in jail way earlier than he’d anticipated.

“There’s always a chance he won’t come out, though, that he’ll block himself off inside,” one cop said, pointing at the room where we assumed Noah was trapped.

“Then knock down the fucking door!” I shouted. I wanted to leave right then; who knew what they were doing to her while we were sitting there chitchatting. She could be wounded or even worse.

“Mr. Leister, leave the work to us,” the cop replied with an air of authority.

I hated how they were talking to me, making decisions about Noah’s life. But there was nothing I could do.

I walked out and lit what must have been my two hundredth cigarette of the day. All kinds of people were gathered on the porch. Near the gate, beside the fountain, were at least seven squad cars, and dozens of agents stood on the perimeter. The media was there, too, setting up cameras outside the gate. I wanted to puke.

“He could kill her, William!” I heard someone shout.

I ran inside and saw the police rushing out of my father’s office and toward their cars. Desperately, I looked at Raffaella, who was crying and clutching my father’s arm.

“Easy, now, Ella, he’s not going to do that. We know where they are. I promise, he’s not going to do anything,” my father said, trying to calm her down.

“What’s happening? Where are they going?” I asked.

“We were able to access the cameras at the club. They’re there, Nicholas. The officers are headed over now.”

My entire body froze in panic.

“I’m not sticking around here then,” I said and turned toward the door. A hand stopped me.

“You’re not going, Nicholas,” my father said sternly.

What the hell was he saying?

“I’m not staying!” I shouted, pulling away from him and running down the stairs. Some of the cops were already gone, departing for a mission that might end my girlfriend’s life.

“Raffaella!” my father shouted behind me. As I turned, I saw Noah’s mother coming toward me.

“Take me with you, Nicholas,” she said, crying uncontrollably, but with steely determination on her face.

I looked hesitantly at my father, who came up to us with the expression of a man frightened but completely under control.

“I’m not going to let him hurt anyone else in this family,” he roared, grabbing Raffaella’s elbow. I knew he was just as scared as we were. Nothing like this had ever happened to us before. The way he was looking at Raffaella was exactly like the way I looked at Noah, and I would have reacted no differently if she had been determined to take off for the scene of a kidnapping.

“I’m going, William Leister, whether you want me to or not. This is my daughter we’re talking about!” she shrieked in desperation. Her sobs eventually got the better of him.

I looked back at him.

“I’m going, Dad. Don’t try to stop me.”

In desperation, he replied, “Fine. But let’s go with the cops.”

Ten minutes later, we were crossing the city followed by three police cars. Listening to them exchange information over the radio was fraying my nerves. Some officers were already there and casing the exits.

We arrived quickly, and the patrol car went straight to where they were expecting Noah’s father to come out. The police fanned out around the door. We could hear the noise inside…and when I heard shots, I got out.

The cop next to me clutched my arm.

“Stay here,” he said.

I did as he ordered, staring at the door Noah would come out of, wondering if she would be hurt when she did.

We didn’t have to wait long. After ten tense minutes, the door flew open, and Noah and her father appeared, blinking with surprise at the detachment there waiting for them.

Noah was hurt…bleeding.

I felt someone grabbing me from behind. I hadn’t even realized I’d tried to take off running.

“Noah!” I shouted as loudly as I could. Her teary, terrified eyes turned toward mine. Her father was holding her with one hand while with the other, he aimed a revolver directly at her head.

“Drop the gun!” one of the cops shouted through a megaphone.

I clutched my head in despair. That bastard was saying something, and the terror on Noah’s face awakened a killer instinct I never knew I could feel before that moment.

I was going to kill him. I was going to kill him with my bare hands.

“Drop your weapon and put your hands on your head!” someone shouted.

After that, everything happened quickly, though my eyes saw it all in slow motion.

Noah’s father took off the safety and pressed the barrel hard into Noah’s temple. She closed her eyes, and the sound of a police officer’s shot filled the entire space.

Noah’s father turned toward us. I knew he was looking at Raffaella when she started to cry desperately. Red blood stained his shirt, and he fell to the ground, badly wounded. Noah looked at him with surprise, then up at me, stunned…and then she started to run.

I pushed aside the cop holding me back and ran to meet her.

Only when I felt her in my arms could I breathe easily again. Only when I felt her body against mine was I sure she was alive.

“God!” I shouted, lifting her off the ground and squeezing her tightly. Her sobs intensified as I did so, trying to cover her with my body, protect her with my life.

I set her down and frantically searched every inch of her body. I looked at her face. They’d beaten her… Dammit! They’d beaten her!

I started to shake all over. I’d let someone hurt her. I’d promised her nothing bad would ever happen to her, and now I saw with my own eyes that I’d failed her.

“Noah” I said, trying to control my voice. I wanted to ask her to forgive me, to apologize for letting that happen. I didn’t think I’d ever felt so guilty for something or as profoundly wounded as I did when I saw the girl I loved with bruises and cuts on her face.

She wrapped her hands around my neck and pulled me close enough to press her lips against mine. I wanted to kiss her more than anything in the world, but I worried I would hurt her if I did it too hard.

I pushed her back softly.

“There’ll be time for that, babe,” I said, cupping her face. “I love you, Noah. So, so much.”

Two more tears fell from her eyes, but she smiled. Then Raffaella came over and took her daughter in her arms. I watched them hug desperately. My father looked at me a moment and then joined them, and I knew nothing like this would ever happen again. I could see in my father’s face the promise that no one would ever, ever touch our family again.

When Noah’s mother let her go, she turned to watch them load her father into the ambulance. I didn’t know how to describe what I saw on her face then, but I did see the fear return when the police guided a handcuffed Ronnie out the door.

“Look at me,” I told her. I didn’t want her to be scared again. I wanted to kill that bastard, but more violence was the last thing Noah needed now. “It’s okay. You’re with me now.”

Her hands touched my cheeks and slid down to my shoulders, and I saw her eyes lose focus.

“Noah?” I said, holding her up as she went slack in my arms. “Get a doctor!” I shouted when she didn’t come to. I picked her up, and terror invaded me. Had she been shot? Did she have some internal wound no one knew about?

“Wake up, Noah,” I said, holding her tightly against me until I reached another ambulance.

“Let me,” a paramedic said. Police sirens began to wail, and Raffaella and my father came up behind me.

“What’s wrong with her?” I asked. They took her from my arms and laid her on a stretcher, and paramedics gathered around and lifted her into the ambulance.

“We’re taking her to the hospital. Are you her mother?” they asked Raffaella, and she nodded, climbing into the ambulance.

“I’m going, too,” I said, not leaving room for discussion.

“I’ll follow you all in my car,” my father said.

The ambulance ride lasted an eternity. Noah was still unconscious, but after looking her over quickly, one of the paramedics said there was nothing to be concerned about.

I leaned over her and carefully ran a hand through her hair.

“I’m sorry, Noah. I’m sorry.”