Andre Landry, my father’s right-hand man, has appeared out of nowhere, his eyes as cold and dead as ever and his mouth twisted into a terrible sort of smile that makes me me think I’m in even more trouble than I realized.He cocks his head like he’s considering how to kill me, then shakes it slowly, and my heart drops into my stomach.
I know that head shake.It’s the way he always greeted me when I was in trouble with my father and about to be punished.
I start to scramble backward, desperate to get away, but I’m not quick enough.He grabs my arm, slaps another handcuff on my wrist, and then attaches the other to a loop set into the van’s wall.I glance down, wondering who the hell has loops set into the walls of a van and handcuffs on hand, but don’t get the chance to ask.
Because he puts a hood down over my head, slides something quickly around my neck, and then hits me.
And as the darkness comes spiraling in, taking my conscious away from me, I have two quick and brutal thoughts.
One, I don’t know if I’m going to live through the night, because I’ve just been deserted by my only ally.
And even if I do survive, I don’t know how I’m ever going to get free.
Brooks
By breakfast the next morning, I’ve realized things are even worse than I thought.
I’m back in my father’s mansion and within his grasp, and I’m all by myself.Camille isn’t here anymore–I hope she’s in the French District in our apartment, but have no way of knowing for sure–and Beau is conspicuous in his absence.
I don’t know where Lucien is or if he’s even still alive.
And I’m surrounded by men I don’t recognize.My father has either killed off the old ones or fired them, and there’s no way to tell.Maybe he decided he had to hire new soldiers when he started dealing in human flesh.
Though from what I know, he’s been peddling girls for over ten years now.If he was hiring men who were okay with that sort of thing, they should have been with him for years.I should know at least some of them.
Maybe he got rid of anyone who knew me when he realized I was going to become a prisoner in his house, though.
Maybe he had to find men who were going to be okay with killing me if I didn’t get in line and do what he told me to.
Fuck.
I lift the coffee cup slowly to my lips, wishing to God it was something stronger.I need whiskey in this coffee.Actually, strike that.I need a cup of whiskey.Forget the coffee.I’m normally a fan of caffeine injected straight into my veins, but right now it’s just making me feel strung up and twitchy.
Then again, that might be atmosphere.
I look to where my father is sitting at the head of the table and feel my blood growing hot under my skin.Dom Landry is perched there in all his glory, billowy white shirt and smoothly combed black hair.Eyes black enough that he looks like he sold his soul to the devil–quite possible–and a coffee cup held delicately in his hand.He looks handsome and at ease, like some sort of pirate surveying his kingdom, and I don’t think I’ve ever hated anyone more in my life.
That man beat my mother to within an inch of her life, so much so that by the time she escaped, the scars were so deep that she never truly recovered.She was Irish mob royalty and should have been safe, but no one is safe when it comes to Dom Landry.
He only cares about himself.
And the money he can make off other people.
My hands clench around the fork on the table and I grit my teeth, wondering how much damage I can do before one of his men stops me.His relaxed posture tells me that he doesn’t think I’m going to make any trouble–that he thinks I’m here as some sort of pet project–and that makes me even more furious.His men aren’t holding their guns, and half of them aren’t even paying attention.
They don’t think I’m a threat.
Fools.
They have no idea what I can manage, but the fact that they aren’t even bothering to watch me gives me some very bad ideas.
I let my eyes slide to the doorway at Dom’s back, and then the one on the other side of the room, and start mentally going through every exit in the house.There are a lot of them–this is one of those houses that has more windows than walls–and if I actually wanted to get out of here, it wouldn’t be hard.
I grew up in this house, after all.I know it like the back of my hand.And if they give me a chance...
“I see you looking at the doors, daughter.”Dom’s voice is quiet and full of menace.Full of warning.“Surely you’re not thinking of leaving us already?”
It’s phrased as a question but I can hear the threat clear as day, and I don’t pretend otherwise.Instead of jumping up and throwing the fork right at his left eye, the way he deserves, I give him the sweetest smile I can manage and tip my head enough to keep the exits in my peripheral vision.
