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Jacob cracks his most adorable smile and glances from Elise to her father with mild confusion. He lets out a short laugh. “Mr. Bettencourt. Can’t I just…embezzle some money for you? A little corporate espionage? Something along those lines. I’m happy to sign my name and provide the evidence.”
“You already do that.” Wilson Chambers, from his seat at the side of the table. “You’ve always been a good boy. This is what the consortium has decided.”
He uses a chiding, gentle tone to remind his son that he’s supposed to be forcing someone right now, not negotiating the terms.
Bettencourt claps his hands. The sound pushes me up against a brick wall. It digs into my cheek, bruising the skin. I’ll have that bruise for weeks. The stitches from the knife wound will pull every time I move. Every time I get out of bed to getRemy ready for school. Every time I get down on my knees to suck a man off in the alley. I’ll carry my own knife after this but it will be too late. It will be far too late.
“Enough waiting,” he intones. “Demonstrate your loyalty to the consortium now. If you continue to wait, we’ll take that as your refusal.”
And after, we’ll get plastic sheets and bullets and body bags.
“Bring her to us.” It doesn’t feel like my voice. It doesn’t feel like my mouth around the words. But I’m buckling under two powerful, competing urges.
One is that I don’t want to do this. For fuck’s sake, I don’t want to do this. The other is that I don’t want that guard touching Elise. I want her over here, with me. I want that man’s hands off her.
The guard pulls her toward closer, and I swear I see relief in her eyes. Or maybe that’s just what I want to see.
I look at Jacob again.Don’t hurt her.
He gives me a shallow nod. An arch of an eyebrow says,did you really think I would?Then he shifts his weight again. The smallest movement toward me.We’re doing this together. Whatever happens.
The guard puts Elise in front of the two of us, then releases her. I want to break his wrist. I want to break hisface.It’s a delayed reaction. A sweep of hot anger, a beat too late. It clears my head.
There’s something I need to know before I can go any further. Elise faces us, her back to her father. They’ve tied the gag too tight. Once we’ve officially begun, the men in this room won’t have a problem if I take it off. This sick, fucked-up game could involve using her mouth.
I want it gone.
If anyone’s going to gag her, it’s going to be me. And I’m going to do it right.
It’s the worst thought I’ve ever had, at the worst time, but I dismiss it.
I extend my hand toward her arm, where the guard was holding her. From this angle, Bettencourt can’t see what I’m doing and neither can the camera.
I’m not touching. I’m asking.
If she saysnoright now, then I’ll accept her answer. I’ll let them shoot me. I don’t know what I was thinking before. If she tells me not to lay a hand on her, I won’t.
Elise’s shoulders relax a fraction of an inch. Some of the fear in her eyes falls away. Deliberately, with her eyes locked on mine, she dips her chin.Yes.
I put my hand on her arm and pull her a little closer to me. A few breaths. That’s all I need. Withmyhand on her instead of that fucking guard’s. It gives me a modicum of control over myself. Unfortunately, I’m firmly in my body. There’s no escaping, not even in my thoughts. That’s what it means to be with Elise. I’m fully present.
I look at Bettencourt over her head and arrange my face into a mildly amused, slightly judgmental expression. “Don’t you want to turn around? This is your daughter, after all.”
He waves a hand in the air. “She’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”
I want to simultaneously hold Elise in my arms and murder this motherfucker. “Final chance to avert your eyes.”
“Privacy would defeat the purpose, wouldn’t it?” I truly loathe when he uses this voice. It’s how Bettencourt sounds at his office, and at dinner parties. A man with a heart, or with a conscience, would never be able to use it at a time like this. “I have to watch to make sure it happens. We all do.”
I raise my eyebrows. “You don’t trust your own video evidence?”
“Angles can be manipulated. Lenses can be blocked. If you’re asking us to step out of the room, Mr. Hill, the answer is no. If you don’t trust the consortium to witness your crime, then you don’t trust the consortium at all.”
Of course I fucking don’t. Who the hell would? Newhouse doesn’t squirm in his seat, but a tic in his cheek gives away that he’s getting uncomfortable with the discussion. I wonder if he had to commit his own crime.
I wonder if he hesitated, or if he bent for Bettencourt without a second thought.
My God. I don’t care about Newhouse. The person who needs saving now is Elise.
