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She has no idea who I am.
“Three has been complaining about a leak in the roof again,” Ephraim says. “Guess the hurricane tore off some of the weather-proofing in the tower—I’ll have to fix it.”
“Three?” I say with a frown.
“Oh—it’s what the girls prefer to be called,” Gideon says. “Just a cute nickname.”
“You…numbered them,” I murmur, almost unable to comprehend it. The inhumanity—even when I was trapped in the pits in Miami, I got to keep my name.
“Easier that way,” Gideon says with an affable smile. “Especially when I’m going bed to bed all the time. They prefer to have their own rooms, so I have to try with each one every few nights.”
It makes me sick. I put my fork down and steeple my fingers in front of me, trying to hide my disgust.
“One has been looking more plump than usual,” Abel says. “Is she just gaining weight or is she pregnant?”
The dinner table goes quiet.
“You know damn well she’s not pregnant, boy,” Gideon seethes.
I don’t know what’s going on here, but I remain silent, hoping to find out more without having to ask.
“Before you ask, we already had the medic look at her,” Ephraim says. He shakes his head. “He told us she’s ‘depressed.’ Recommended picking up some antidepressants next time we’re in New Orleans.”
“You believe him?” Abel asks.
“What reason would he have to lie?” Ephraim says.
Gideon clears his throat. “Enough of this talk. Javier—tell us about yourself. What wily adventures did you go on between your time in Miami and when you arrived here?”
I clench my jaw, not wanting to offer any information about myself if possible. These men are not my friends—they’re my captors, and they have ill intentions for my mate. I catch sight of Peaches’ red curls in the kitchen and almost lose my train of thought before I hum to myself.
“Spent some time in Puerto Rico,” I say. “My mother was from there—pre-Convergence.”
“And you?” Gideon says.
“Miami born and raised,” I say. “Not much land left in Puerto Rico; mostly barges and scaffold cities, just like Louisiana. Pre-Convergence flooding and hurricanes did a number on the island.”
“My first wife was from Florida,” Gideon says. “Weird place, if you ask me. And she had some little quirks, was feisty as all hell.”
Ephraim’s expression tightens, his lips pursed and his brow furrowed. He must be talking about Peaches’ mother—the one who she said he kidnapped and later killed.
She had some quirks.
That’s all he has to say about her.
Fuck, I want to kill this man.
“I don’t like it when you call her feisty,” Ephraim mutters.
“Well, that’s too bad, ain’t it?” Gideon says.
He and his son fall into quiet bickering on the other side of the table. Grateful for the reprieve in conversation, I watch the doorway to the kitchen for Peaches, catching another glimpse of her at the counter. She leans over and sprinkles sugar on something, sticking her ass out in that too-short black t-shirt as she leans over to look at whatever she’s working on.
She has no idea I’m watching…no idea how beautiful she is.
“You know—before she left, it was supposed to be me,” Abel says, breaking me out of my reverie.
I give him an annoyed glance. “What was?”
