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“Mrs. Frasier?” I reach for her shoulders, checking her out, but I’m hoping her slurred, “It’s Patricia, Belle,” means she’s better than she looks.
“You thought I wouldn’t find you?”
The voice makes me freeze for the scantest moments, holds me paralyzed until I force myself to stir, to hunt down the gun I know Patricia put down the back of her jeans.
Inside, it’s as if my very organs have been put in the deep freeze. Then, my fingers collide with the gun and I can suddenly breathe easier. I even look up, but when I do, my eyes connect with my very own boogeyman, the man I’ve spent my whole life running from but never really escaped…
That’s when I see he has a knife to Kitty’s throat as he steps over the body of “the agent” she’d been “handling.”
“I’m here foryou, my love. No one else needs to get hurt. I can slice her throat if you want…”
Bile rises in my throat as fear for Kitty throttles me.
It’s been years since I’ve seen him. His tanned skin is waxy, and his hands are wrapped, one in a shell that’s like a cast, the other in blood-soaked bandages—but it’s his eyes that have my heart stuttering in my chest.
Dead.
They’re dead.
How could I have forgotten? Maybe I blocked it out. Maybe Ihadto.
“Daddy,” I croak, fighting my nightmares, veering away from memories of my past because if I let them, they’ll swallow me whole and I’ll just allow him to take me. I’ll just concede to his will because that’s what you have to do to survive when he’s in your life.
But surviving isn’t enough for me anymore.
I want to live.
“You thought you could trick me by becoming another man’s whore?” he rumbles, his tone too calm, a sharp contrast to that knife he’s digging into Kitty’s throat. “Spreading your legs like a common tramp. What the hell is wrong with you, Isabelle? Why can’t you just behave? You’re exactly like your mother. As much of a slut as she was. Incapable of following orders and doing as. You’re. Told.”
Concerned, I dart my eyes over to Kitty. She’s staring at me, not one bit of fear in her gaze. If anything, she’s angry, and I know she’s going to do something if I don’t stop her.
She doesn’t understand how fucking crazy he is—he’ll happily kill her and Patricia just to get to me.
Collateral damage means nothing to him, but Cade’s already lost too many people. I just can’t let him lose anyone else, not for me.
“Take it easy, Daddy.” I study his hands. “You’re hurt. Put the knife down and I’ll come with you.” In my peripheral, I see blood trickle down Kitty’s throat.
Is that from the knife or his bloody hand? His bandages are drenched.
“Hurt?He butchered me, brokeme!” he roars, and I flinch, waiting for him to drop her, waiting for his fist to collide with my face, seeing him in my mind’s eye leaning over my mother as he beats her…
“Daddy, please,” I whisper. “Put the knife down. I’ll come. I promise. I won’t fight, but you have to let her go…” My fingers tighten around the Glock. “Let her go, please. You don’t need to hurt her.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” he snarls, but his reaction time is obviously lagged because Kitty elbows him in the gut.
That’s when my life becomes more of a movie than reality as I jerk to my feet and take the stance the Disciples drummed into us.
I aim.
And I fire.
Then, I fire again.
And again.
Blood explodes around me. Like red maple syrup, it spatters the walls and stains the floors, coats Kitty and me as it bursts from him when he drops to his knees and tumbles forward.
“Get away from him, Kitty.”
