Page 10 of Bloody Kingdom

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head, douche lord. I haven’t missed a single thing you’ve said tonight. You haven’t left much up for interpretation.” I know exactly what my fate is and where I stand with him. I either play along or I end up as a whore to be used by Gallo.

I wish my father was alive right now so I could kill him again. Running him over with a bus and then backing over him seems appropriate right about now.

“Douche lord? I would recommend watching how you speak to me, Miss Page,” his voice rumbles. The more he talks to me, the more apparent a faint accent becomes. It’s as if he’s spent years perfecting his American accent, but his original dialect slips through the cracks here and there. French maybe?

“Why?” I question boldly. “What are you going to do? Drug me and hold me captive? You’ve already done your worst.” My arms cross tightly across my chest as I stare him down. My insides quake with fear, but I keep my exterior hard—strong. “Besides, it’s not like you’ve offered up a name, what else am I supposed to call you?”

He takes a menacing step forward and I somehow manage to force myself to stay put even with the voice screaming in my head that I need to run. “If you think this is my worst, you’re more naïve than you look.”Ouch. I’m many things but naïve isn’t one. “As for what you can call me, Mr. Laurent will do for now.”

Laurent.

“Douche lord is more fitting.” I smirk. “If it quacks like a duck and all.”

His response is a low, menacing growl that sends cold shivers of fear down my spine.

Laurent comes to a stop in front of a set of closed double doors. The way his hand pauses on the ornate glass doorknob doesn’t go unnoticed, nor does the way his back stiffens and his posture straightens. It’s like he’s bracing himself for something.

Or someone? Who the hell is behind these doors?

After taking another second to collect himself, Laurent pushes the doors open to a room that is thankfully better lit than the rest of the house. A warm, welcoming glow shines into the hallway where I stand as I hesitate to follow behind.

I don’t want to go in there. I have little to no interest in whoever is in there. I’m a curious person by nature, but I don’t want to learn more about the mysterious situation I’ve found myself in.

“I just want to go home.”

I don’t realize I’ve spoken aloud until my captor answers me. “When your debt to me is paid in full, I’ll deliver you myself to the shitty apartment you share with your friend.”

There’s no reason to ask him how he knows about Lucy. If he didn’t already know everything about me, I’m sure the traitorous asshole Duke would have filled him in on her. When I get my hands on Duke, it’s not going to be pretty. It’s clear that him showing up at the club tonight was a setup to get me alone.Asshole.

A thought dawns on me. “Is Lucy okay? If Duke did something to her, I’m—” The panic I’ve been barely keeping at bay surges forward.

“Your friend is just fine,” Mr. Laurent cuts me off but not surprisingly I don’t find reassurance in his words. I won’t believe Lucy’s unharmed until I set my eyes on her myself.

A faint voice interrupts me before I’m able to tell him just that. “I told you she was a strong one, boss.” The statement is followed by a fit of coughs.

My eyes flick between the person I can’t see and Laurent’s face. His features pinch slightly before a stone-like mask falls into place, hiding his pained look. His fingers dig into my arm as he pulls me into the room, opting to not give me the choice to enter on my own.

Smart man, as I was just thinking of running from him again. I’ll get away from him and this place somehow, but now is not the time. I need to wait for him to turn his back—let his guard down ever so slightly. Surely there is a door or window I can escape through.

I’m dragged harshly into the room, the fight I put up against his manhandling is useless against his brute strength. God, why is he so strong? If it wasn’t so irritating right now, I may be impressed by it.

The room is large, the ceilings over ten feet tall. A roaring fireplace sits on the far wall, windows with their curtains drawn tight sit on either side of it. I’m instantly uncomfortable by the temperature in the room. It’s April in Louisiana, it’s already too warm for a fire to be lit.

In front of the fire is a small seating area. On the glass coffee table sits a chessboard. A game looks to have been started but never finished. I wouldn’t know for sure though, I never learned to play. I was taught to gamble, not play a classy game like chess.

I reluctantly turn my head toward the other side of the room. A hospital bed that looks completely out of place with the rest of the furnishings sits there, a side table littered with medications and medical supplies next to it. A vital sign monitor beeps steadily next to it. Following the wires connected to the monitor, I finally look at the old man lying in the bed.

Without knowing his diagnosis or prognosis, I know immediately he’s in bad shape. The thought must be written across my face, because the ill man’s face splits into a smile. “I don’t look that bad, do I?” He laughs for a second before coughing. His bony fingers reach up to cover his mouth as he heaves.

It’s Laurent who speaks first. “No, Ira, you don’t. You look as strong as the day I met you.” He lies.Why? To spare this man’sfeelings? I don’t buy it.

I opt to ignore the dirty look I’m given by him as he moves closer to his sick employee. I would call Ira a friend, but I don’t get the impression that Laurent has friends.

“You’re a dirty liar,” Ira jokes easily, his southern accent thick. “But I could use the ego boost right about now, so I’ll let it slide.”

How in the hell can this man be so calm in the presence of someone like Laurent? I’m convinced he’s the devil in a nice suit. It’s got to be whatever cocktail of pain meds they’ve got him on.

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