Page 18 of Remi's War (Four Dark Horsemen 2)

She shakes her head. “No. That’s it. Please, Penelope, do this for me, and you won’t ever have to see or talk to me again.”

Searching her face for any deceit and not finding any, I take several more steps back while pondering her words.

I think she has no right to withhold information, and if I wanted to involve the authorities, I could.

Especially considering she stole my file from her previous employer.

And yet I don’t have the heart to do it.

Because compared to all the men who took my case and failed to deliver on their promises, this woman believed in me and gave me more than any of them ever did.

So shouldn’t I show my gratitude to her now by fulfilling her request?

If one invitation can change both of our lives, so be it.

Exhaling a heavy breath, I snatch my phone from my dress pocket and ask, “What’s the name of the club?”

Her eyes light up, and she takes a deep breath before giving me the name.

One night.

I can pretend to be a sophisticated woman interested in this club’s business for one night and then reunite with my sister, putting an end to our past once and for all.

Our dead father’s wish to make us live separate lives will be no more.

Besides, it should be fun to see how the Chicago elite spend their time, and my natural curiosity always gets the better of me, getting me in questionable situations.

Not that this is one of them.

After all…

What harm could a little invitation and a visit do?

Remi

Classical music plays loudly as I slide my fingers over the various weapons spread on the table. I enjoy the light reflecting off the silver while anguished whimpers echo in the space, forcing my mouth to curve in a smile.

Ah, the two most enjoyable sounds in the world for me.

Whoever said that in cruelty you can never find pleasure because it is designed to strip you of everything human… certainly never had anyone fuck up his life.

For only those who grew up in love and affection have the luxury to preach about the greater good and stellar character qualities.

The rest of us though?

We indulge in our vices because we are doomed to live in hell anyway.

Besides, being a sinner is a lot of fun, so who would willingly sign up for a boring existence all the saints follow?

Certainly not me.

“Help,” the man whispers as I pick up a butcher knife and dip it in poison, letting it coat the steel as I look over my shoulder at the man currently standing in the middle of the dungeon.

A heavy chain wrapped around his throat lets him sway from side to the side slightly when he tries to escape fate’s clutches. Blood slips from his forehead to his mouth, making him cough. “Help,” he repeats, goose bumps dotting his naked skin. He groans when his feet step on the broken glass spread all over the floor.

Just a little something to warm him up a bit for what’s about to come.

One of the rules of good torture?

---