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“My guy… What? I?What guy?” Kennedy stutters out, confusion etched all across his features. My eyes narrow as I study him, trying to gauge whether he really didn’t send a hit out on Theo, or if he’s just that good an actor.
“Mr Harlow.” Dax rounds the desk, perching on the edge of it. Kennedy looks around at Dax, not even registering the use of his name. “Theodora was almost stabbed. Had another cellmate not pushed in front of her, she would’ve died. The hitman was another cellmate, but no one of importance,” Dax continues to fill Kennedy in. “He’s dead. But he had to have instruction to murder her from someone. Now forgive us, Mr Harlow, for pointing the finger, but who else knows she’s there but you?”
Kennedy’s mouth is open slightly, his eyes unable to focus on one thing. He’s thinking deeply. About an excuse, a lie, a plan, I don’t know, but one thing is for sure. Kennedy didn’t know his daughter was being targeted in that prison.
“I have no idea. I don’t even know who?Why would I want to kill her?” he asks me.
I stand directly in front of him, looking down at him in his chair.
“You’ve already answered that one, Harlow. ‘I don’t give a shit where she stays. She lost any loyalty from me. I’m hoping to move on. She’s of no use to me now,’” I mock, repeating his words back to him.
Kennedy stands so he’s eye to eye with me.
“That doesn’t mean I want her dead,” he spits.
“You know, for someone who claims to have washed his hands of his daughter, you seem awfully concerned about her,” Dax says calmly, speaking my exact thoughts.
“What use is she to anyone if she’s dead? Of course I’m concerned,” he almost shouts, his temper rising.
I look back at Dax, suspicion lacing my thoughts.
“Forgive me, Kennedy.”
He stops pacing and looks at me.
“But what use is she toanyoneunder lock and key inmyprison?” I ask slowly, an evil glimmer in my eye.
I think back to those paychecks coming through and the mysterious subject that referenced ‘for her’, and I clench my fists behind my back, trying to compose myself.
Kennedy just stares at me, lost for words, realising he may have made one huge mistake in letting those words slip free.
“Apart from me, of course,” I add just to spite him. I’d never intentionally hurt Theo, but he doesn’t need to know that. “Let me get one thing clear here. Theodora Harlow is mine. She’s tucked safely away in that prison where no one else can get to her apart fromme. Dead or alive, she’s no concern of yours anymore. She’s no concern for anyone else. Her body, her words, her cries, her pleads, her fucking soul is mine and mine alone, and the next person who tries to claim her as theirs will not only be buried six-foot deep but will swallow the dirt as they go.”
Kennedy is frozen to the spot as he takes in my threat.
“Mark my words, Harlow,” I continue. “Whatever plans you had for your daughter are done with because the day you put Theodora in my clutches was the day you fucked up.”
Kennedy slowly unfreezes and nods slowly. I wasn’t discreet in my threat. I’ve made it fairly obvious that I know he has something planned for Theo and maybe that I even know about his suspicious transactions, but I’ll let him stew on that.
“Right, well,” Kennedy says, clearing his throat and smoothing his hands down his suit.
The door to the office opens, one of my men standing quietly on the other side, and I know Dax must’ve called for them discreetly.
“Mr Harlow is leaving now,” Dax says to the guard, who nods and holds his arm open for Kennedy to follow.
Kennedy looks over at both of us and without saying another word, he leaves, back to his hell hole, to conjure up a plan B, I imagine.
* * *
I storm up the stairs,a desperate urge to check on Theo now that Kennedy has left. I’m struggling to control my rage and it only heightens when I round the top of the bannister and stop at the loud bangs from the other side of my bedroom door.
I knew she wouldn’t take well to being locked in, but does she have to be such a child? I have visions of my room trashed, the gold furniture broken to pieces, clothes and bed sheets strewn across the floor.
She’s relentless. The banging never ceases as she continues to slam her fists against the door. I stand on the other side, just listening to her huff and puff before having to face her wrath.
“Fuck this.” I hear her mutter before the pounding stops. Her footsteps stomp through the room and I get the key out, satisfied she’s not in close distance to punch me in the face when I open the door.
Just as I’m putting the key into the lock, I hear a loud smash and force my way inside to find Theodora standing on the other side of the room, holding a lamp in one hand. My gaze snaps to the floor-to-ceiling balcony door that’s now in shattered pieces all over my bedroom floor, an identical lamp to the one in her hand amongst the broken glass.
