“Hurry back. I miss you.”
I laughed and opened the door. The hallway was dark, but I knew the house like the back of my hand. A nightlight was on in Sierra’s room. She had kicked back the covers and her arm was hanging over the edge. I pulled the comforter over her and nudged her towards the center of the bed. She didn’t move. I tucked her arm back in and was about to leave when I spotted something on the bedside table. I picked it up and frowned.
A syringe.
I was pretty sure it hadn’t been there before. Whatever was inside had been used, but why would Damian leave a syringe lying around? Especially with Sierra—
“Don’t move.” A figure came out of the shadows.
I felt something cold pressing against my temple. A gun. I knew it was a gun because once upon a time, Damian had held one to the back of my head. I had the same sinking feeling now as I did then, except this time it was much, much deeper.
“Call him.” The intruder pulled me towards the door.
“Who?”
“Stop playing games, Skye. Call Esteban or Damian or whatever the fuck he’s calling himself these days.”
I knew that voice.
“Victor!” I swung around to face him, but he hit me with the gun. A stinging whack across cheek.
“Do as I say or she dies.” He pointed to Sierra.
“Damian,” I called, but my voice quivered.
Oh God. The syringe. What had he done to Sierra?
“Louder.” Victor prodded.
“Damian.”
He stepped out from the bedroom, pulling a t-shirt over his head. “Skye?” His voice was so warm and relaxed, I bit my lip to control the anguish. He had no idea what he was walking into.
You think there’s such a thing as too much happiness?
Victor swung me away from the door. We were standing in the center of the room, his gun aimed at me, when Damian walked in. For a split second, he froze, and then something kicked in—maybe it was his training at Caboras or maybe it was his take-charge personality. Either way, Damian assessed the situation and did the opposite of panic; he went lethally calm.
“Whatever you want, Victor. Let them go and it’s yours.”
“I want my arm back, motherfucker. You think you can give me that? Because if you can reattach every nerve you severed, you go right ahead. Do you know what it’s like to walk around with a paralyzed arm in my business? I lost everything. I—”
“Cut the drama, Victor. I get it. It was your dominant arm. You can’t shoot. Or use a can opener. Or stroke your dick right. You took a hit on the job, a job ofyourchoosing, and now you’re holding me accountable for it. What do you want?”
It took Victor a moment to regroup. He had been expecting fear, submission, compliance.
“I want you to pay for it,” he said. “I’ve been waiting for you to get out of prison. Of course, I wasn’t expecting this cozy reunion.” He tilted his head towards me and Sierra. “A ready-made family, Damian. The bastard son has a bastard daughter.”
Damian’s fists clenched. “If you do anything to hurt her—”
“Don’t worry. I haven’t harmed a hair on her head. Just given her a little tranquilizer. Babysitting screaming kids in these situations is really not my thing.”
“Youdruggedmy daughter?” There was a nerve ticking on Damian’s forehead. One I’d never seen before.
Victor laughed. “You drugged Warren’s daughter, didn’t you? Don’t like it when the tables are turned?” He yanked me closer.
“Your problem is with me, not them.”
“Your problem was with Warren, but it didn’t stop you from kidnapping Skye. Casualties get caught in the crossfire.” Victor shrugged. “You know that.”
