"You should stay standing," Silas said. He leaned over and whispered in my ear, "Unless you want to kneel."
There it was, the salacious comment I was anticipating.
"The floor looks a little hard for kneeling," I said.
"Looks perfect to me," he replied. He scuffed his shoe on the floor.
"Go ahead," I offered. "If you want to kneel, don't let me stop you." If he thought I was kneeling for him, he'd have to think again. I suspected Conrad would stop that before it began. Or one of the other men. Again with the whole damaging the merchandise thing.
Not surprisingly, Silas didn't kneel. Instead, he stepped away a couple of feet, where he could keep an eye on me. As if somehow he thought I'd try something if he wasn't watching more closely.
Of course, if he didn't know if I was going to try something, I would have shot him already a few times over.
I gave him a smirk too.
With a click, the door opened behind us, letting in several more men. Men I knew. Some better than others.
Noah and Urban stepped in first, their faces matching brick walls. Expressions guarded, not giving me anything. Least of all what they felt, which I hoped like hell was that they were on my side.
I liked them, I'd hate to have to shoot them. Yeah, I know, I was wildly outnumbered by now. Still, if the opportunity arose and I had to do it, I would.
Behind them, my father walked. No surprise there either, but it hurt to see him. Was he really going to go ahead with this?
Judging by the calculating expression on his face, yes. Yes, he was.
Beside him walked another man of the same age, his hair grey around the temples, blue eyes watching everything and everyone.
Gregor Quinn, asshole extraordinaire. Right now he looked benign, as if he was here for a pleasant cocktail party with friends. Of course, that facade was his daily mask. Pleasant public servant on the outside. Predator on the inside. The things he must have gotten away with in the past…
What would happen if I shot him right now?
Before my hand went anywhere near the gun, I reminded myself of the three men I loved. If I killed Gregor Quinn, my father would make sure I watched them suffer before he had them killed.
If I thought it was only me he'd kill, I'd do it to save the world from one more person like him, but it wasn't only me. My guys were doing good in the world.Beinggood in the world. Woody would scoff at the suggestion, but the world needed them.
If they saved one more person because I made sure they got to live, then it'd be worth whatever I was going to go through.
What is it they say about the needs of the many outweighing the needs of the one? Yeah, that.
"There's your lovely daughter," Quinn said, his eyes raking over me, as if he was appraising a Picasso.
I only have two breasts,I thought. Did that mean I wasn't as valuable as a Picasso? Whatever, it was easier to buy bras.
"Yes, this is Sable," Dad said. "She has her mother's looks and temperament."
I thought he was trying to be complimentary, but considering my mother's temperament, I couldn't help being a little offended. In the grand scheme of things it was a small slight, worthy of a silent, 'Fuck you too.'
"And her mother's legs. I bet she screams beautifully," Quinn said.
Honestly, some small part of me expected my father to be disgusted. I saw none of that on his face. This was nothing to him but a payday.
Also? I didn't want to think about how Quinn seemed so familiar with my mother's legs.
"Getting ahead of yourself, aren't you, Gregor?" one of the other men called out. "You haven't won her yet."
In the corner of my eye, I caught the twist of Noah's lips. I forced myself not to look straight at him, suspecting if I did, I'd give him away. It was enough for me to know he was on my side. Sympathetic at least.
Both of us—all of us, if Urban was on my side too—had to play it cool. I didn't bother to look at Urban; I'd never read his expression. Nor would I assume. Noah might be the only one I could trust.
