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It’s just a steak knife—not like he had access to a meat cleaver at dinner. But it’s enough to give him an advantage over Michael, and enough to keep Dimitri from pulling the trigger. I don’t gamble with people’s lives. I take what I need when I need it, never putting anyone in needless jeopardy, but I know Michael would agree that the risk of him breaking free is too great to take when the girls are in the house unprotected.
Wes grins, looking maniacal with the blood dripping down his face. “What’s wrong, brother? You don’t think I’m going to stay your prisoner?” His laugh is a little too loud.
“For a bit longer,” I shrug, closing the distance between him and I with every step I take toward him. “You see, I’m waiting on your father to send the cavalry. Can’t have you run off before the rescue party shows up.”
He only laughs at that, though his eyes shift from me to Michael nervously, trying to assess where to keep the blade. If he leaves it at Michael’s neck, it leaves him vulnerable. But if he points it toward me, he leaves Dimitri with a clear shot to take. Dimitri’s already got him on lock, but Wes is desperate, and that desperation has him acting like a rat in a cage. “My father doesn’t care about me. If you think you can bait him with me, you’re dumber than you look, Boudreaux.”
“You aren’t the bait.” I assure him, coming to a stop just outside of his reach so that he can’t slash out at me.
“No?” He laughs. “Then what am I?”
From the corner of my eye, I see Michael sway a little on his knees. He corrects himself before Wes can notice to try and take advantage of it, which tells me he’s going to be just fine once I have my stupid half-brother tied up again.
Dimitri would have pulled the trigger already if I had given him the greenlight, but a gunshot would inevitably catch Rhea or Elaine’s attention. It would be hard to explain away.
“You’re a doctor, right?” I scoff. “Shouldn’t you be smart?”
“Now, now,” Wes chides. “Don’t be jealous. You could make something of yourself too, if you’d just let go of the things you let tie you down and liberate yourself. It’s better that way.”
The things that tie me down.
He’s talking about Rhea, Claire, human decency. He doesn’t know that I do more than just keep myself separate from the part of our world that he is intimately familiar with. He thinks that all these years I’ve buried my head in the sand and just moved their money where and when they told me to. He still doesn’t know that I’ve actively gone behind them, that I’ve used their own money to bid on some of their victims and bought them a new life. Wes doesn’t know that humanity is wasted on him, but I’m going to make sure he learns before he dies.
“You told me yourself that they’d come for Claire. You’re not the bait. She is.”
That earns his silence while he contemplates my words, trying to gauge whether I’m lying. “I don’t believe you.”
“Don’t you?” I laugh, lunging at him so suddenly that it takes him by surprise. He lashes out in response, the knife finding purchase on my chest. It’s not enough to stop me from grabbing his neck and driving him into the wall, particularly given that he’s outnumbered. Dimitri takes the opportunity to lunge forward, pressing the muzzle of the gun against his forehead, his skin rippling out around it with the pressure Dimitri’s using to drive it into his flesh.
The click as he cocks it has Wes straighten and drop the knife, attempting to regain his dignity. “Okay, I’ll bite. Claire is the bait. What am I?”
“You?” I sigh. His eyes study me intently, like there’s so much more that he’s not saying, and he’s trying to figure out what I’m not saying.
He doesn’t even see my fist until after I land a punch square on his nose, which gives a satisfying crunch as the cartilage bends and fractures under the pressure, causing further damage to the spot Claire got him with the cork earlier. His blood flows like a faucet over his fingertips, splashing thick droplets of blood to the floor to mix in with Michael’s.
He mutters something unintelligible that I can’t distinguish with his mouth choked with blood. I tip my head for Dimitri to attend to Michael, so he eases back and holsters his gun.
I shove my hand over Wes’ mouth and watch the panic flicker to life in his eyes as he chokes on his own blood, unable to breathe through his nose any more than he can through his foul mouth. He isn’t small by any means, but I know as well as he does that he’s outmatched. The element of surprise is the only thing that may allow him to throw us off, but that’s been lost thanks to Claire’s keen eye.
I let him stew in his fear a moment, thinking I’m about to let him suffocate, before I drop my hand and give him the answer he’s been waiting for.
“You, dear brother, are just a distraction.”
Chapter twenty
Claire
I haven’t figured it all out yet, but I know that this is something I have to do. I will do my best to skirt the details that are muddied by her brother’s involvement, which means telling her I’m a murderer is off the table. That one is probably for the best. I’d like to think her love is unconditional, but how could anyone love a killer?
I won’t even bother burdening her with an impossible task. In reality, she’s always jokingly referred to me as the person who would ‘help her hide the body’, proving the depths of our friendship. But when the context ceases to be fictional, would the sentiment be the same?
We hop the side of the boat one after another, laughing as we do. It feels like we’re doing something wrong, and maybe we are. I don’t know what Remy would say to us trespassing on his boat, but Rhea is his sister, so it also just feels about as normal as sitting down at his table.
Rhea makes a cursory look in the cockpit space, running a hand along the seats and over the deck, but doesn’t find a key. She lets out a humph and then tips a thumb toward a door I hadn’t noticed before. “Let’s get some drinks before we get into it. You’re going to need it.”
Rhea smirks playfully, but I’m pretty sure she’s actually right. I drank half the bottle myself, but the champagne buzz is fading a little, dulled by the reality of what I’m about to do. The truth is a heavy thing—wicked and cruel. I tried to run from it, tried to ignore it, tried to surrender to it. The truth is darkness, and I’ve fought it for so long that I don’t know how to stop. So I’ll embrace it, instead. I’ll lean into it, let it slip into me so that I can learn to shape it into something that I can coexist with. I don’t know if Rhea will be able to do the same, or even if it will weigh on her as it does on me.
Though he apparently doesn’t leave the key lying about, Remy does keep the cabin unlocked. Rhea opens it easily and flips a switch, setting off a strip of blue light that illuminates the entire space. There’s a goddamn kitchen on this boat, and it’s almost as big as the one in the apartment I share with Rhea.
