Page 51 of Vow to Protect
“He was a lorry driver.”He’s playing mind games. That’s all. Messing up my head with some stupid psychotic fantasy from his childhood.“And his cargo was stolen lives.” I scramble to piece together the sentence.
Liar!
“Bullshit.” I lurch forward, only to be yanked back by the man at my side. “He would never do that. He was my father. He was a good man.”
“He would, and he did.” Blaine’s calmness infuriates my fraying temper. “And your sweet sister did the same thing.”
“If you think spinning this shit will make me steal a kid, then you’re wrong.” He’s a psychopath. Nothing he says is true. It’s all lies. Hideous, unbelievable lies.
Blaine’s eyes bore into mine. “Shall I let you into a little secret?” Neat eyebrows wiggle. “Henri, your dear old daddy, introduced himself to me outside the local medical centre one sunny afternoon. I’d been the victim of my father's fists for the umpteenth time and had just been in to see the useless doctor. My lying bitch of a stepmother told the doctor I was an overactive kid who liked to play daredevil on my bicycle.” His shoulders lean in like he’s enjoying the tale of his past. “But, I didn't own a bicycle—the good doctor didn’t know that, right?” He raises his brow, asking a question.
I shrug, pretending not to care if he owned one or not. If I knew him back then, I’d slash his tires. “Of course he knew. My step mommy was friends with the doctor's wife. They bumped into each other outside the practice as we were leaving. I wandered away while they licked each other’s arses.” A flash of anger darkens his face. “That’s when I met Henri. He saw the bruises on my arms and asked me if I was okay. I told him I hated my parents, and guess what he said?” His voice raises an octave higher, amused by what comes next.
A sour taste coats my mouth. I rock slightly, trying hard not to give into the nausea. “He said I had two choices,” he continues, standing up and rounding the desk. “I could stay with my abusive family or go with him for a new start.” The chair creaks when he stands. “I followed him back to a shitty motel where he tightened cable ties around my ankles and wrists and kept me stringed up like swine on the bathroom floor.”
“You’re lying!” I scream, feeling weightless in his lies because deep down in my gut, he could be telling the truth.
“He wasn’tthatbad, I guess. There was food and the odd swig of liquor. It gave me time to reflect on my life.”
I can’t control my shoulders as they curl forward and my stomach heaves. Nothing leaves my empty stomach. I suck in through my nostrils, controlling rapid pants. “That wasn’t my father.”
He groans theatrically. “I know my relationship with your father is a lot for your tiny brain to compute, but I had thought you’d be more—” A finger swipes my chin. “A bit more accepting. He was an evil man, who did dreadful things. And your sister brought drunken women back to a cheap motel room for a party, leading them straight into a trap.”
A rash, animalistic growl leaves my throat. I dip forward and hurl spital at his fine shoes. He dances sideways, dodging the vengeful missile. Loathing seeps from my entire being.
Veiled anger flickers behind his gaze. “I had my shoes cleaned earlier, Raen.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Can I please continue with my story without your childish tantrums? We both know this won’t end well for you if you insist on ruining my trip down memory lane, so please, sit there and behave yourself. Otherwise, I’ll cut your fucking throat. And that will really piss me off because this suit was tailored in Belfast.” The tone of his voice stays the same, no hint of outrage and no remorse for his threat. He leans down, grabs my coupled hands and forces my numb fingers to stroke his waistcoat. “Feel the fabric.”
I stare at the material blankly. A ghostly silence falls between us. Blaine let’s go, seizing my cheeks with a rough grip. “Listen to my fucking story. I told the shorter version to your worthless sister. At least she paid attention.” He smirks. “Although she was dying, so…”
Bastard.
“As I was saying, Henri taught me about the business without even knowing.” I gulp, straining my neck to get away from his touch. “During our time together, I paid attention to every phone call and memorized all the contacts he named. I even studied his careful planning for the big-time asshole who only wanted women. Yeah, they didn't want a teenage boy starving in the bathroom of a shitty motel. So…” He resumes, “Your father gave me a further two choices. To leave without saying a word, or to suffocate with a plastic bag over my face.” Blaine partially perches on the desk. Too close. Yet the perfect distance to attack. “I promised to leave quietly. But you know what? I had no desire to go back to my old life with my asshole father and his whore of a wife. I wanted a new life with respect, money and power. I didn't want what Henri had. My goals in life were a million times bigger. Before he cut open my restraints, he took a phone call from his daughter.”
“Natalie,” I whimper, piecing together the past.
“Poor little Natalie had no idea her father was a liar. When he snipped my ties and let me walk to the door, I caught sight of his reflection in the mirror, coming up behind me with a carrier bag, ready to cover my face. What a coward. At least face your victim. I was used to torture from an early age. It felt normal. I’d grown immune to pain and deceit. Habitual hurt. Lies and secrets.” With a sweeping movement, his arm reaches behind and snatches the open flick knife. A pointed edge traces my jugular with enough effort to feel a warning without death. “I had zero plans of dying that day. What he didn’t expect was that the young boy had his own duplicitous plan. He lied, and so did I. Even though I was weak and hungry, I had more fight and determination to survive than he did.” Blaine’s features animate at this juncture of his tale. “I grabbed the butter knife from the tray on the bed. The first stab needed a lot of force to penetrate the skin. It was self-defense. The rest were purely because I enjoyed it.” He tips into me. “I decided sharper knives would be less effort but just as fun.” The razor edge scrapes lower. “Seconds before he died, I promised to find his little Natalie and introduce her to the wicked ways of trafficking.” He chuckles. “I think that’s what actually killed him.”
“You bastard.” The ties nipping my flesh dig deeper when I struggle. My neck pushes into the steel.
“So, will you follow Daddy’s footsteps, or will I let you go?” In other words, steal Tilly or die.
“Fuck you,” I choke out. “I’m not like him. I won’t take her.”
Blaine's lips descend to the shell of my ear. Tainted cologne makes me detest every complex aroma. “I would enjoy teaching you a lesson or two. Now that you’re no longer an asset for my business, perhaps I can flip the terms. Drag out your ending for personal amusement. I’ve already considered terminating my current sexual commodity and replacing her with Raen Cartier. What a fucking triumph that would be. From the grave, dear dead Henri can witness his protégé fucking his youngest daughter. You are my property after all. I have to say, it would give me great pleasure to watch that spark of hope blow off in the wind like dusty old ashes. Ruining you would be a big fucking turn on and the best satisfaction I’ve had in ages. How long would it take to break you, Raen? A week, perhaps? Or maybe a single day?”
The man beside me curls his palm around my shoulder and squeezes. “De Courcy will come for her,” he announces.
“I’m counting on it.” Blaine removes the threat and folds the blade away. “Keep her occupied until he gets here.” He shrugs, showing me that life is really that simple. “She stays in here. Dexter will watch the door.” Blaine pushes off the desk and saunters behind me to the exit. “He won’t come in if she screams. Have fun, Law.”
“No matter what happens,you need to be here for her.” I hide the fear crawling up my throat and stare into my cousin’s bold blue eyes. “If I don't come back, you’ll become her legal guardian.”
“Fuck sakes, Brett. Let me come with you.” Kaleb pulls the front door behind him, blocking our conversation from Freya and Tilly inside. She thinks I’ve got a big business deal to tie up, and that’s all she’ll ever know. “I can’t let you walk away from here knowing you're walking into hell.” He glares at me, stuffing a hand into his thick black hair.
“I’ve already been in hell since Syrah was murdered. This is payback. I’m going to kill that fucker for every single woman he’s stolen, sold and killed.” Syrah’s name holds reverence in both of us. The wrench in my heart swells for her short life, and I recognise that I’ve finally let her go. “Raen needs my help. I have to get her out of there. I’d never forgive myself if I let her down. She deserves a new start. I gave her hope when even it seemed hopeless.” My hand juts out. “What man would stand back?”
Kaleb shoves his palm in mine, simultaneously dragging me into his chest. The tighter the hug, the harder my gun digs into my side. “I trust Cal has everything in order?” Kaleb slaps my back.
“He’s working on it. There’s not enough time to hang around and wait for all the pieces to move into position. Blaine is unpredictable. Fuck knows what he’s doing to her right now.”
