She gives me one sharp, confused glance, but her brain is evidently still working because she doesn’t hesitate.She’s running for the door seconds later, her hand on one of the other girls and her eyes on the hallway beyond.I wait long enough to see her turn left, and then I turn and rush through the room, hissing the same set of instructions and hustling all the girls for the doorway.When the place is empty, I turn to the door and make for the hallway myself.My job now is to make sure the girls are all outside with Camille or Kate–whoever came to collect them–and that the door to the outside world is closed.
I rush after the last girl, my hand on her back and my mind flying through the plan, and once she hits the steps, I follow her there, too.Kate is standing at the top, ushering the girls toward the bottom of the driveway, and I look to see Camille down there, pushing the girls toward what I assume are vans outside the gates.
God, if this works, we’re going to be insanely lucky.
“Take the girls to the apartments in the French Quarter, right?”I tell Kate.“Keep them there until you hear from me.My father will be looking for them, and I’m guessing the first place he’ll look is back with their families.We can’t afford for them to be caught again.He’ll kill them.I’m sure of it.”
“And what are you going to do when he discovers they’re missing?”Kate asks, her voice low and intense.“He’s going to suspect you, and he’s going to end up killingyou.”
I send her a grin.“Not if he thinks I’ve been in the bathroom off the main hall, recovering from taking around $5000 off one of his Russian friends.With any luck, he’ll think the girls have found their own way to the door.With even more luck, he won’t mention it at all.He’s going to be worried about his business partners finding out that he lost girls.I bet he’ll try to hide it.”
Kate looks at me like she bets differently, but doesn’t say anything.She gets up on her toes and presses a kiss to my cheek.“Please be careful, for fuck’s sake.Call us tomorrow.”
Then she’s gone, melting away into the darkness in her ridiculous disguise, and I’m stepping back into the hallway.I close and lock the door behind me, praying for my friends, and then I run back down the hallway, headed for the door at the other and and the stairs where I left my shoes.
When I reach the door, I turn and cast a look back into the hallway, suddenly positive that there might still be girls left down here.I don’t know why I think it, but my senses are screaming that we didn’t get everyone.That there are still girls trapped in the rooms.I want to go back through, but I know my time is already up.I have to get back upstairs and into the bathroom off the foyer before anyone sees me.
I need to be there when my father passes by on his way back into the party from the meeting I saw him taking before I left.
I open the door and get inside, my eyes still on the hallway behind me and the clock in my head screeching about how much time I’ve already wasted.
I’m just about to close the door behind me when my eyes catch movement in the room across from the door and I realize I was right.There’s someone over there.Someone left behind.
Only when they move, they’re not some anonymous kidnapping victim.
It’s my brother.
And Corinne Boudreaux.
He moves so quickly I barely see it, and seconds later the door is slammed in my face.
And when I try it again, it’s been locked from the other side.
Lucien
Icringe as the man in front of us takes another shot to the face, his body spinning to the side at the blow.As he turns, blood sprays out from his mouth, his lip split and several of his teeth missing.
He’s going to be a mess in the morning, but I don’t feel sorry for him.The man signed up for this match, brought in by the purse we’re offering, and it’s his own fault if he didn’t come prepared.
I exchange a look with Luke, who’s across the ring from me, and give him the closest thing I can manage to a grin.We’re in one of my underground fight clubs–clubs my father doesn’t even know about–and the seats are fucking packed.Once a month I run a special match between two of the best bare-knuckle fighters in town, and offer a $1million purse, which I pay out of my own pocket.Ticket sales go to charity–children’s homes through the city–and people attend the matches like they’re a fucking celebrity wedding.
I always sell out.
And I always send millions to the homes for kids.
I also usually enjoy the hell out of the match, though I’m having trouble focusing on it tonight.Word on the street is that Dom was also having a party tonight, and that he was going to showcase Brooks as his new favorite child.He’s been spreading the idea that she’s his new heir and is diving head-first into his business enterprises, and though I already knew all of this from her own mouth, the idea of it has gotten under my skin and started to itch.
Brooks, back in her father’s taloned hands.
Back in that house, where he tried to kill her on more than one occasion, and back with the man who attempted to ship her out to some international buyer.
My skin is crawling with fury at the thought, and I have to physically grab the armrests of my seat to keep myself in it.I hate the thought of her being back with Dom, but even ‘hate’ isn’t a strong enough word.I’m raging at the idea.Crawling with horror and nerves, and itching with the need to fucking do something about it.
I’m so angry at her I can barely sit still, and I’m even angrier at myself for having left her there last night.The girl was in my fucking hands, and instead of throwing her over my shoulder and taking her home, I fucking believed her about wanting to stay there and finish her mission.
Christ, I could fucking kill myself.
Except that would leave her there on her own, and I’m 99 percent sure that at any moment, she’s going to be calling me in to rescue her.
