Page 108 of Resist Me (Forget the Past 3)

Even Bill Lamont is smart enough to know the risk. He must have some other play.

“No smart mouth today?”

I shrug.

He sneers. “You’re going to keep quiet like this. Come nice and timid, and nothing bad has to happen.”

Don’t let them take you to a second location.The instruction I tell all my clients plays through my head.

“No. We can talk here,” I say.

Bill steps forward, pressing the muzzle of the gun to my forehead. Even I, who trained myself not to give in to fear around this man decades ago, fight off lightheadedness from my proximity to death.

Wild barking snags some of my father’s attention, his gaze flicking to the backyard. I can imagine Pig’s blocky head at the door, staring in on a scene she doesn’t understand.

A spark alights in my father’s eyes, causing a sick twisting in my gut.

“If you need some incentive to behave,” he mutters, “I can provide it.”

I want to spit in his face. This vile man who thinks he has some claim to me, shoving his way into my home and threatening one of the few things I care for. And yes, I love the silly dog I never wanted in the first place. She was Charlie’s idea. She should be his soft spot, not mine.

Of course, I now have two vulnerabilities I never planned on.

The idea of my husband coming home to this makes the decision simple. My father may not have any love for me, but he picks up on my weaknesses easily enough. And he uses them.

“Fine,” I say. “I’ll go with you.”

He grins down at me, pupils dilated. “Good girl.”

Bill steps back, keeping the gun trained on me. “Where are the keys to your car?”

I wave toward a hook beside the refrigerator.

“Escort her out, Nicky,” my father commands with a jerk of his head.

I glare at the lackey, who approaches me without meeting my eyes. My whole body tenses when he circles behind me. I hate having his menacing presence at my back.

“This is a bad idea,” I warn them.

“Getting rich is never a bad idea,” my father steps close, his greed creeping along my skin, clinging like a sticky film.

Then he nods his head and a second later a sharp pain cracks through my skull and blackness leaks over my eyes.

ChapterForty-Two

LUNA

I never thought I’d step foot in this room again. Much less be locked up in it. But when I regain consciousness, I know my exact location the moment I open my eyes.

My childhood bedroom.

The place has changed a lot since I lay claim to it. My parents are far from the sentimental type. Not ones to keep mementos of their children once they’ve left the house. At least not mine. Mom may have built herself a Dash or Leo shrine for all I know. She does care about them in some twisted version of affection I never warranted.

As seen by the complete stripping of any sign of me from this space.

The walls are painted, the bed is gone, and racks of clothing fill the room. Seems this is now a walk-in closet for Vivian Lamont’s ever-expanding wardrobe.

All this I absorb from a prone position in the middle of the floor, trying to distract myself from the worry that I was out for the entire trip from Nashville to New Orleans. Either that guy Nicky hit me harder than I’ve ever gotten knocked around before or Bill dosed me with something while I was already unconscious. I’m guessing the latter. Now, I lay on the ground, hands and feet cocooned in duct tape.

---