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It didn't fucking penetrate.
Shrugging, if only because I knew it would infuriate my pixie further, I go to grab the key from around my neck. Her eyes widen when she catches a glimpse of the gold key dangling around my neck and I realize I'd promptly lost count of the amount of secrets Blondie is accumulating about my criminal kingdom. And fuck me she was about to see a hell of a lot more.
“Stay close to me.” I started before turning the key into the lock of the basement door. Immediately dark sensual music floods through my senses. The shit was cranked so loud it was hard to think straight. Then again that was probably the point. My father was a sick bastard but unfortunately, he wasn't stupid and game playing was one of his favorite pastimes. Mind games being the caviar on his five-star menu of torture.
Pressing Blondie into my side until her skin melds with mine, I make my way through the crowd, my eyes on the walls.
They had to be here. The plan was simple, stupid, but fucking simple.
Picking up on my movements, Rose's eyes track the walls, blatantly trying to see what I’m looking at, but they weren't here.
So the bastard wanted to play it like this.
Sharply, I turn towards Jayson and Tristan, causing Rose to tumble even further into me and making what's left of my mind go mad with her floral scent, she smelled like roses and the irony of the fact makes my knees turn to box mix Jello,
Choosing to ignore my body's hormonal malfunctions I yell,
“They’re not here. The asshole must have them hidden, we’ll have to go in deeper.” Nodding, they accept the death wish without question. For going into the lunatic's lair any further was a death trap for even the sharpest of minds, but I was in too deep anyways and you know what they say about losers with nothing to lose? You already have nothing to lose so why the hell not?
We take all of two steps before we’re spotted.
Daddy dearest doesn't miss a thing, especially when his own son decides to crash his little party, good for him. His eyes narrow on mine and I notice the exact moment recognition sparks, the exact moment I know we are done for.
“Kaleb.” He spits, the word coming out as more of a growl than a syllable, a sick twisted warning to get the hell out of his sight before it's too late. Well unfortunately for him I was already a self-destructive criminal bastard, so I’d say it was already too late. As I said, points finger towards self, nothing to lose.
“Father,” I snarl, and Rose stiffens at my side. This wasn’t exactly the “Meet the Family” moment I had planned mostly because the real plan didn’t fucking exist, but I guess plans change and all that Hallmark card bullshit.
“Come to play?” His attention turns towards Blondie and I tighten my grip on her hip until my knuckles turn white.
My immediate thought is to refuse him. To yell at him and tell him I would never play his sick games for as long as I drew breath in these broken lungs but tonight, I have a broken pair of wings at my side that needs my protection. I have a girl who has stolen from me only to have the tables do a one-eighty and to have me stealing for her.
Life sure likes to mess with you sometimes.
“I think you want to play.” He smiles and the sight is just plain ugly. All Colgate-white teeth and botoxed cheeks. The man had more plastic in him than Ken, “You even brought a player.” His attention turns back to Blondie and my hands twitch with the urge to rip his eyes from their sockets.
He leans closer until his peppermint breath kisses her cheeks and my stomach clenches, I was gonna be sick.
“She's very pretty, Kaleb. Almost looks like someone I’ve met before.” I laugh then, a twisted broken sound that I barely recognize coming from my own lips.
“As if you can even remember what your own hand looks like in front of your face.” He stiffens at the words, the movement almost invisible, before that dreaded smile of his makes a reappearance.
“Is this the pretty blonde thing I had my men play around with?” The question is asked so calmly, so devoid of emotion, that we could have been discussing if we wanted pizza or pasta for dinner.
“Yes, it is.” Rose’s words are calm, practiced, almost as if she's danced this verbal tango before and I want to tell her to shut the hell up but her perfect lips keep forming words, leaving my eyes to take in the trainwreck before me,
“You stole my art. My paintings.” Rose's words are soft, with an undercurrent of anger so strong even a deaf man could hear her pain, and I want to kill everything within a fifty-mile radius at the sound.
“Is that so?” His fingers brush Blondie's shoulder and it takes everything in me to not break his hand.
“Well Kaleb, I think your little doll just found something to play for.” He turns to me, his dead plastic eyes almost unnaturally alight, “Don't you think?” I start to shake my head when Blondie’s damn mouth starts moving again, causing my head to turn fuzzy,
“And what exactly would we be playing?” The smell of weed fills my lungs and I know Jayson’s already stress-lit his blunt at the start of the conversation. The smell of Irish mint mixes in and from the corner of my eye I see that Tristan has moved closer, awaiting my order.
My father laughs then, the sound a rich vibrato that grated against my ears. Sick bastard never knew when to shut the hell up.
His eyes hold Blondies and the look in them has me regretting ever having laid eyes on the blonde creature.
“Oh I have a special game in mind for you darling.” he looks over to me, “And luckily for my son, it just so happens to be a two-player game.” Jayson stiffens behind me, nearly choking on his smoke and I hear Tristan suck in a breath.
