Or, if my suspicions about him are correct, worse.
I fight to keep from narrowing my eyes at the memory.He can’t know that I suspect anything.I’m here for information, not to blow my cover.I learned a long time ago that sometimes a girl needs to keep her brain to herself, and that usually means withholding more information than you give up.
Men tend to underestimate how much a girl can do.
And that always leads to an advantage for the girl.
So I give him my sweetest, most innocent smile–one of the biggest lies I’ve ever told in my life–and tell him I’d love to have dinner, and steak sounds terrific.Then I follow him into the house, already planning how I can ditch him and get into his office without him knowing about it.
***
The house is exactly how I remember it–not shocking, since I saw it just a week ago–but I fight the need to turn around and run back out again.This place doesn’t hold many happy memories for me.My father screaming at my mother.Me and my brother hiding in each other’s rooms when the dark became too dense at night, the sounds of the house too frightening.
All the girls I couldn’t save.
The things my father did to me when I tried.
This was where it all started, my need for control and the knowledge that no one was going to come for me when I needed help.I spent too much time comforting my mother after he hit her, and even more time running to my brother and begging him to tell me it would be okay.And I learned early on that no one else could make it okay for me.My brother couldn’t make the dark any less scary, and my mother couldn’t make my father stop hitting me.No one could help me save the girls in the basement, and I’d been too young and small to do it myself.
Being here in this new guise, with my guns and knives and all the street smarts I gained in New York, is like seeing the place with different eyes.I’m not here to ask my father for anything, and that frees me, as well.I’m here to take information, by hook or by crook, and that right there?
That’s pretty fucking empowering.
We sit at the enormous table in the dining room, despite the fact that there are only two of us, and I fight to make small talk with my father while we work our way through some of the most delicious steak I’ve ever had.To my surprise, he’s willing to talk business with me, going through some of his biggest shipments to date and saying that he has some new business ventures on the rise.He’s grooming my brother, Beau, to take over, and that’s taking up most of his time.No, he’s not thinking about getting remarried, though he is shopping for a wife for Beau.
I don’t want to hear about that, though.I go back to the new business ventures.
“Brand new?”I ask.“Or just ventures that you’re expanding to be bigger?”
The shock passes through his eyes so quickly that I almost miss it, and then it’s replaced by a sly, crafty look that closes his face off to me.
“Brand new,” he says.“Things I’ve never tried before but want to get into.”
Liar.
“What sorts of things?”I ask, taking a drink of my wine.How far will he go with this lie?Does he have a cover story already made up, in case someone asks?
But evidently we’ve reached the end of sharing time, because he brings a hand down sharply on the table.“That, my dear, is none of your concern.You left the family, in case you’ve forgotten.Which means our business dealings are none of your...well, business.”
His mouth quirks at his own joke, and I have to fight to keep myself in my chair.God, I hate the man.I hate his arrogance and condescension and the unreal, overwhelming belief that he’s better than anyone else.
I hate that he can sit there looking suave as you please, like nothing is wrong, when he’s facing the daughter he very nearly killed with his fists.
And a part of me hates myself for sitting across from him and playing nice, when all I want to do is slit his throat.
But needs must.
I lean onto my elbows and pin him with a stare.“Maybe I want to come back into the family.Come home and take my rightful place.”
He tips his head and stares at me like he’s trying to see through the lie, and I think for a moment he won’t believe me.He still hasn’t asked why I’m in town or who I’m here with, and I’m sure it’s eating him up not to know.He’s got to realize that I wouldn’t just come down here and show up at his door, asking to be let in like some sort of Orphan Annie.
Or maybe he doesn’t.
“That sounds like quite a plan,” he says, bland and unreadable.“And I’d be happy to have you.Why don’t we start with a reintroduction into our world?The family is having a ball tomorrow night.Why don’t you join us?I’d like to introduce you to some...people.”
I frown.Did I imagine the emphasis on the word ‘people’?The pause?The crafty glint of his eye?Is this a trick?A trap?
Even if it is, can I afford to turn it down?Because if he’s behind the kidnappings, I need a way into his organization.And a ball where I’m presented to his contacts might be just the ticket.
