Page 120 of Heartless Game

I texted her.

Call me. I need you.

I ran out of the locker room, keys in hand. I had no idea what tonight would look like, or what was happening to the woman I loved.

I only knew one thing.

If my father had touched a single hair on her goddamned head, it didn’t matter who he was to me, or that I’d never wanted to become a murderer.

Because I would kill him.

50

Tovah

Abe Silver had Isaac’s eyes. They were the same brown, the same shape. But where Isaac’s eyes could be warm, or cold, depending on his emotions, there was something off with Abe’s. I didn’t remember him that way; when I was young, he’d been scary, but he’d seemed sane. Not so much now.

He was waiting in the foyer when I arrived. I’d broken a million traffic laws on I-81 South to get here, and then a million more in the city itself, but I’d made it in under four hours.

“Impressive timing,” Abe said when he opened the door. “I like punctuality.”

I ignored his attempt at cordiality. “Where’s my mom?”

“Oh, don’t you worry about that,” he said easily. “You’ll be joining her promptly. But first, I’d like to talk to you about my son.”

“And I’d like to see how my mother’s doing.” I responded in the same easy tone, even if inwardly, I wanted to punch this asshole in the balls.

His easy tone disappeared. “Let me explain something to you. You are not in control here, I am. You have no power, no leverage, no nothing. I will tell you what to do, and you will do it, understand me?”

His son had said something similar to me, once. I was sick of men thinking they were in control, thinking they could say jump and I’d say how high. In that moment I decided that I wasn’t only getting my mom out of here alive, I was getting myself out, too.

But Abe would die.

I fingered the blade in my pocket. Isaac shaved with a straight razor, and I’d pocketed one before I’d left.

After all, I’d killed a tyrannical asshole once, and I’d been a young kid.

I was bigger now, stronger, smarter.

I could do it again.

I didn’t say anything though, other than, “after you,” and followed him through the hallway into the sitting room, which looked exactly the same as it had when I was young.

“Take a seat,” he said, all affability and cordiality again. Warily, I sat in a white armchair my mother had probably dusted and spot cleaned multiple times.

My mother. She was somewhere on the compound, and I had to get to her.

He joined me in the opposite armchair, taking a seat and crossing his leg over his knee.

“Tovah, my son is a man at war with himself. Part of him is ruthless, ambitious, and will do anything for the bottom line, whatever that may be. I’m sure he’d even kill for it.” He laughed. “But the other part of him? It resists it. That’s why he’s always so charming, so kind, so gracious to fans. He’s too much like his mother that way. She always hated the violence in our world, too. Isaac tells himself he can’t fall prey to it, that if he embraces his dark side, he’ll lose himself. He doesn’t realize he’s already found an outlet for it in hockey.”

Abe shook his head. “No, he doesn’t see it. But it’s important he…make peace with his dark side, because one day he’ll pick up the mantle and take his place as the head of this family, and he’ll need to use that violence and ruthlessness to protect this family and everything we’ve been building for two generations.”

I already knew this. Most of it. Isaac had told me parts, and the other parts I’d seen for myself.

“The problem, you see,” Abe continued, clearly not caring at my lack of participation, “is that Isaac is grasping the softer side of his persona too tightly. His caring, his concern, his protectiveness. And while he’s grown darker, and I do believe I have you to thank for that, he also has too much keeping him tethered to the light. I need to cut that string, so he fully embraces his role in this family.”

He eyed me up and down, and my skin crawled. It wasn’t sexual, it was worse. It was like he could see my corpse already.

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