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“Yeah, I’m done.”
“Oh God, what happened?” Her concern seeps through the phone, warming me. “Was he upset? You shouldn’t poke your nose in other people’s business, Lay.”
“I know, Dodo. I…” Fresh, hot tears track down my cheeks. “I haven’t spied on Dad.”
“Then what? Oh crap, what did Tall, Blond and Awesome, Mr. I’m-the-heir-apparent-of-the-empire do now?”
God, if only she knew… But how much can I tell her without worrying her too much?
“He’s… involved in some bad business, and I can’t…” Can’t figure out how I feel, what is going on, what to do.
“Holy crap, are you crying?” Dorothy hisses. “This has to be serious. I can’t ever remember you crying, except for that one time you broke your wrist. What’s really going on?”
“Nothing. It’s just…”
“Is he okay? Hell, are you okay? Where are you?”
“He’s okay. And I’m fine,” I say, yet it’s not fine. Nothing’s fine, and I need to tell someone. “He can’t hear well, Dodo. It was that accident he had last month. God, he can’t hear so well…”
Crap, this was a mistake. I slap a hand over my mouth as another wave of tears falls from my eyes.
A silence in which a muffled sob escapes me.
The silence grows heavy.
“Hey, Lay,” Dorothy mutters. “You sure you’re not… you know. Preggers. Because you’re not the emotional kind. Not that you don’t have emotions,” she rushes to say, and it’s too late because my heart sinks, and soon I’ll be bawling like a baby.
“Of all people, you are asking me that? Like you weren’t with me when the doctor told me I can’t…” I wave a hand, and now I’m sobbing out loud, so I slap said hand again over my mouth. “Oh God,” I mumble.
“Sorry, Lay. I know. It was just… forget it.”
“He’s just… not himself.”
“What does that even mean? Has he hurt you?”
“No.” Not in the way Dorothy means. And I shouldn’t be sitting here, talking on the phone, not when the thugs might be right outside the
door, and Hawk… it’s him I should be talking to, not my bestie. “Look, I’ve got to go. Talk to you soon.”
“Layla, wait!”
But I’ve already disconnected.
Chapter Nine
Hawk
A few more hours. Just a few more hours and my watch will send out my location to my friends. A special police unit will come pick me up, trained to work quietly and efficiently. To work secretly, so hopefully they will extract me before I’m killed by my captors.
One can only hope, right?
Fuck, yeah.
And hey, I got one more name for my list. Boris Abramov is also working for the Organization. Russian mafia overlord. Not sure anyone can touch him, but the more we know, the better, right?
I’ve been a good, patient bait. I’ve let them beat me up, starve me, manhandle me. I let that moronic asshole touch my dick to help me piss. I’ve put Layla in danger.
I’m done.
