I got back from England yesterday, and Fraser Lane’s words have haunted me since I watched him die in that field. Whenever I look at Imogen’s beautiful face, I hear her saying those same words too. Only now here in the basement with Pierre, while she’s upstairs tending to the garden, do I dare to voice any of the thoughts tumbling through my head.
“Do you think it’s strange that the Brotherhood kept her alive all these years only to then try and sell her at one of their auctions?”
Pierre frowns. “Evil. Vile. Disgusting. All of those things, but I’m not sure what you mean about strange. They’ve always found new ways to assert their power and punish their enemies.”
“But why do that? If they wanted her dead, why not just kill her?”
“I thought you said the grandfather brokered some kind of deal for her life? Well, at least her childhood?”
“Yeah, but still. The Brotherhood aren’t exactly known for their mercy. What if it was something more, Pierre?” The information I have is not adding up, and the longer I’m in the dark, the more dangerous it is for everyone in this house.
“You’re going to have to give me more to go on, Lincoln.”
I tell him about what Fraser said, and he agrees that it could as easily be a way to throw me off the scent as the truth. And then I tell him that Imogen said almost exactly the same thing to me a week ago.
He hums softly, thinking. “It’s definitely a hell of a coincidence if it is one. So you’re thinking what? That she knows who you actually are? And that she’s some kind of spy? The Brotherhood think Killian is dead, or they would never have stopped looking for him.”
“What if they don’t, Pierre? What if they know the truth?”
He shakes his head. “There’s no way they know. They may suspect, but they can’t know. Lincoln Knight is a ghost with no connection to Killian Wolfe.” He nods, still humming softly to himself. “But if they do have doubts about Killian’s death...”
Anger at my own stupidity rages inside me. Just like Fraser, I’m taking too many risks, blinded by her. “Then what better way to draw me out.”
Realization dawns on his face. “Than putting your goddaughter up for sale.”
“So what is she, Pierre? Is Imogen in on all this, or is she an innocent fucking victim they’re using to get to me?”
“I supposed you’ll have to find out.”
“And how do I do that exactly?”
He tilts his head to the side. “Have you heard of the phrase give someone enough rope... ?”
Of course I have, but I don’t want Imogen to hang herself. I don’t want to trick her, manipulate her, or lie to her. She’s been here for almost five months already. If she was some kind of spy for the Brotherhood, or she had any kind of revenge planned, she would have acted on it by now... right? She could have easily killed me in my sleep at least a hundred times. Then killed Pierre.
But then she’d be trapped, wouldn’t she? She knows the fingerprint and retina scan are sensitive enough to only work onliving tissue with a blood supply, and she’s not strong enough to knock me out and drag me to the door. She can’t even lift me up.
“I can hear your cogs turning, Lincoln, and you can think it over and try to rationalize it all you want, but the cold hard truth is if she’s one of them, and she was raised as one of them, she would cut out your heart and smile while she did it. You will never know unless you test her.”
“Nobody can be that good of an actress, Pierre,” I insist, despite knowing that he’s right. My heart is splintering in my chest, fragmenting even at the thought that she may have betrayed me—betrayed us. I can’t fathom how she could be so cruel. No, she’s not. The woman I’ve fallen so deeply in love with is not that cruel. She is kind and pure and good. Everything that I am not.
“Unfortunately, we know this is not the case.” He places a hand on my forearm. “For what it’s worth, I sincerely hope she’s not one of them. But even if she is, Lincoln, then she’s only being what she was raised to be. She was three years old when her parents were killed.”
“I know, Pierre.” I almost choke on my own words. Whatever she is, it’s my own doing. I should have found her. Should have protected her the way I promised to.
Pierre is right, the only way to know for sure is to test her. Give her enough rope, as he so crudely put it.
Is Imogen DeMotta a Pawn in the Brotherhood’s game, or is she the Queen?
Chapter 55
Imogen
Lincoln takes my hand, his warm fingers curling around mine in a tight grip. It’s possessive and reassuring and I’ve come to love it. “I have a surprise for you, angel.”
I don’t know yet if I like surprises, but I can’t imagine Lincoln’s are unpleasant in any way. “What is it?”
He guides me toward the room next to the library, the one that’s barely used and contains only a couple of huge sofas gathering dust. Not anymore though. Now it also has a shiny new TV on the wall above the fireplace. “You got a TV for in here?” I squeal excitedly.
