But…
I know damn well we can’t let so much as a hint of this reach George. Hell, Istillhaven’t told him much about myself. He has no idea how Emma died, or my heritage. I hate that he doesn’t know much about me, but he cannotknow. Not now.
Wehaveto protect him, because I know she’s absolutely right.
This was the plan.
We need access to the man, and the best way to do that was to create a political target he couldn’t refuse, to tempt him out into the open and get him to donate to George’s campaign. To court our candidate the way rich assholes like him have always courted candidates in their attempt to garner political favors.
Unfortunately, with us in the middle of the campaign, I know Casey’s promise to me will have to wait. Our priority is George and his election. This is bigger than us and our revenge.
Plus, there is just too damn much attention on us right now. We’re too visible because of our proximity to George, and because of our jobs.
I want revenge, but I am not an idiot. The only good thing about this development is I’m no longer thinking about my cock. It’s wilted inside the chastity cage.
Once Casey reaches George’s table, she speaks to everyone there, making sure they know who she is. She pauses by George, a hand resting on his shoulder as he’s apparently telling everyone about her. I can guess this from the way he fondly looks up at her and pats her hand on his shoulder.
It kills me Junior is staring at Casey, appraising her like he would a high-priced breeding cow. I know the fucker is single, apparently giving up marriage after divorce number three fourteen years ago.
After a few minutes, Casey excuses herself and continues on her rounds, working her way back to where I’m standing and watching this all play out. George is still holding court at his table when Casey returns to me and motions for me to follow.
I do, of course.
We slip outside again. It’s full dark now, and we’re alone.
Casey looks me in the eyes and takes my hands in hers and squeezes. “Patience, boy.”
In my mind I’ll forever suffer from that last sight I had of Emma, of her lying on the floor of our living room, in a pool of blood and with her eyes wide open and staring sightlessly at me where I stood in the doorway.
Screaming.
I can’t rid myself of it. It’s burned into my fucking memory.
How much more damn patience am I supposed to have? I’ve been patient forfifteenfuckingyears. Justice denied my sister, and to my mother, by default.
Over the years, Casey and I have researched. Alot.
I’ve identified at least five more people, in addition to the ones Casey already knew about, who died under suspicious circumstances. Even if their deaths, at the time, weren’t ruled as such.
Suicides when the people had everything to live for and no reason to kill themselves, but they had talked about a recent family discovery.
Or people who had approached the Ronald family and claimed they were a relative.
She obviously realizes I’m not convinced. “I need you to trust me. To not move on this without guidance and permission from me.”
So much she can’t say, and I know it.
Doesn’t make me feel any better.
But I have no other choice. I blow out a long breath. “Okay. Yes, Ma’am.”
It’s not fair that fucker is sitting here stuffing his face and Emma is dead.
All because a greedy sonofabitch is a greedy sonofabitch.
Not because he’s deserving of life. Not because he worked hard to earn his position and money.
He built his success on the backs and blood of others, and on the perverse desires of his father.
