I need to see how often the men on the other side of the doors are patrolling.
“Leave?”I ask.“Wherever would I go?This is my home.”
And you may still have Lucien,I don’t add.So I can’t leave until I know whether he’s here.
And that right there is the most complex piece of this puzzle.Because I saw Luke Boudreaux last night when Lucien was pulled out of the van.He met my eyes and stared at me for an eternity before he yanked his cousin out of the van.In theory, that should mean that Lucien is back with his family and that the Boudreaux clan–or at least Lucien’s crew–figured out where we were and found a way to rescue him.
In practice, though, that doesn’t make a lot of sense.
Why would they have rescued Lucien and not me?Did they rescue the other Boudreaux men at the same time?I wasn’t outside, but I didn’t hear any other crashes, and the other men were in different vans.There was a whole lot of shooting, though, and that could mean almost anything.Did Luke turn against his family?Was he kidnapped as well, and forced to help my father’s men move Lucien to another van?If he was on Lucien’s side, were they recaptured?Were they shot as they tried to escape?
Does my father still have Lucien, now chained in the basement somewhere with the girls meant for the trafficking ring?
Is he somewhere worse?
I can’t leave until I know for sure, and that keeps me in my seat, smiling, even when I want to rush my father and slit his throat.Because I have to assume that Lucien is still here somewhere, and that Gemini doesn’t realize it.
So we’re cooked unless I can figure out how to get us out of this mess.
Dom’s face melts into an easier smile at my words, and he gives me a warmer look.“I was hoping you’d say that, daughter.The truth is, I have plans for you.Very big plans.”
Terrific.The last time my father had a plan for me, it included an arranged marriage.
“That sounds exciting,” I force myself to say.
I think I sound casual, or at least mostly interested, but suddenly my father’s face becomes storm clouds and thunder, evil and shadows, and I bite my tongue.Shit.I forget sometimes that I sound more New York than New Orleans, now, and that my tone of voice isn’t always...subtle.
“Exciting?”he grinds out.He leans forward on his elbows, all evidence of the happy pirate gone.Now he just looks like a murderer.A killer.
A smuggler willing to do whatever it takes to keep his business intact.
Probably because he is.
“I’d recommend you have more respect when you talk to me,” he growls.“Need I remind you that you’re not here as a guest, but as a prisoner?I caught you fair and square, daughter, and that means you’re at my mercy, now.”He leans back, still eyeing me with his pitch-black eyes.“So I’d suggest you find it more than just exciting.”
I take a long, slow breath, trying to calm my racing heart, and consider him for a moment.That was an overreaction, for sure, and a quick glance tells me that his own fingers are curved around the knife by his plate.My gaze snaps back up to him, and I feel a thrill of triumph run through me.
Because Dominick Landry doesn’t have many tells, but his hands always give him away.He can’t keep them still when he’s stressed.He’s too used to being able to hit whoever’s pissing him off.
And if he’s clenching that knife hard enough to look like he wants to bend it, it’s because something’s wrong.
If I had to guess, I’d say he’s actuallyfrightened.Something’s got him off balance.
Perfect.
“What is it you want me to think?”I ask quietly.
He nods once and his hand relaxes on the table.“There was a time when I wanted to elevate you in this family, Brooklyn.You’ll remember that.I tried to give you a husband who would allow you more power.”
Lucien.
I remember.
I also remember that he wanted to send me into the Boudreaux house not as a willing wife, but as a spy–which was why I ran for New York.Because I’d loved Lucien at the time, and I wasn’t going to spy on him for my father.
Even if leaving meant I lost him forever.
Not that I’m going to say that to my father.
