“Gentlemen.” Hanson stepped forward, holding out his arm and gesturing for us to follow him into the house.
Michael pinched his eyebrows together, questioning me with his eyes, but I shook my head, following the servant.
The dogs. The girl. The crowd of people he didn’t give a shit about seeing his filthy deeds. He wanted me to know he was stronger.
But I was going to be smarter.
Hanson led us back through the house, hands locked behind his back until we came to a set of double doors, and he opened them, inviting us into a dining room. He stopped and turned, letting us enter.
“Please, sit wherever you like,” he instructed. “Refreshments will be served shortly.”
He backed out of the room, closing the black double doors, and as soon as I heard the gold knobs click shut, I released a breath and closed my eyes.
“What happened?” Michael asked, sounding concerned.
I just shook my head, turning away and staring off out the windows to the terrace we’d just left. “I almost forgot,” I mumbled to myself. “I almost forgot there was a reason Damon was so fucked up.”
I kicked the leg of a chair, seething. Goddamn him. He called me a fucking criminal. “Even as a criminal, you’re noble,” Gabriel had said. He could go fuck himself. His cruelty, his diabolical nature, his pleasure in others’ pain…every inch of that guy was filth. I wasn’t the criminal. I was nothing like him.
Michael stepped up. “What’s going on?”
I gripped the back of a chair, seeing Will standing on the other side of the table. “I don’t know yet,” I said through clenched teeth.
“Why did he mention The Pope?”
“It’s—” But I stopped as Hanson opened the door again.
A young woman, this one fully clothed with her hair stuffed up into a newsboy cap, wheeled in a cart with water glasses and a tray of some kind of pastry.
I pulled out a chair, and Michael and Will followed my lead as she got to work getting the refreshments ready. Hanson said something in Russian to her and backed out of the room, drawing the doors closed again.
“It’s across from the dojo,” I told Michael. “I thought we’d check it out for Graymor Cristane.”
“We didn’t talk about that,” he griped. “Where the hell is this coming from? I thought we came here to see if Gabriel knew where Damon was.”
I shot him a leveled look across the table, trying to tell him with my eyes that this wasn’t the best place to talk. Michael knew me well enough by now to know I didn’t make fast decisions. I had a plan.
“I don’t think he knows where he is,” I told Michael as I relaxed into the chair. “Why not put the past behind us and make a deal? The hotel is still in great condition. We could make something out of it.”
“What?” Michael looked at me like I had three heads.
I almost laughed.
I made a show of glancing to my right where the girl was working, and then said with a smile in my eyes, caging, “Did you know The Pope is a Torrance property?” I rounded my eyes on Michael, hoping the knucklehead knew how to pick up a hint. “It’s been abandoned all this time. But it must be pretty nice inside, because all the entrances are fortified with an alarm system, cameras cover every door and corner surrounding the hotel, and there’s even a security guard that still cruises past the hotel at the top of every hour and does a walk around the perimeter every four hours. I noticed that from the dojo.”
Michael studied me, the wheels in his head turning, while Will still looked confused.
Come on, Michael. Figure it out.
And finally I saw the light go on in his eyes, realization hitting. “Oh, yeah.” He nodded. “Right.”
I smiled to myself, glad he finally understood.
Why all the security for a place not being used? Why not just lock and board up the doors? Or tear it down and sell it off? Why was it sealed up and guarded like a prison?
Damon was there.
I had no intention of buying the hotel, but I wanted inside of it. And if the rumors about a mysterious, hidden twelfth floor were true, I needed full access to the place and privacy to explore.
Damon had tried to kill us. He wasn’t going to be allowed to come home ever. But there was a reason I needed to find him. We had a loose end to take care of.
A cloth napkin and water glasses were set in front of us, and I heard a shuffle of dishes behind me. Where was this assistant we’re supposed to meet?
“Just trust me,” I mumbled to Michael, still speaking in code. “It’ll be a great hotel. And if it’s not clean, we’ll clean it up nice and quick.”
He laughed under his breath and then opened his mouth to speak, but the servant came around and placed a plate in front of him.
“I’m not hungry,” he said, swiping his hands in front of him to stop the kid. “Ny-et.”
She quietly picked up the plate again and set the one in her other hand down in front of Will, before circling the table to come over to me.
“Do I know you?” Will spoke up, staring over my head to the young woman who was filling my water glass.
But before the girl had a chance to answer, Michael turned to him. “Come on, dickhead. Now now,” he grumbled. “You don’t need to get laid every time we stop the car. Damn.”
Will’s eyes turned angry, every muscle in his body looking tight. Jesus. He shoved his chair back and stood up, walking out one of the glass doors leading to the patio.
I sat up straight and let out a breath. I knew Michael meant it as a joke, but not really, either. And Will knew it. He knew his extracurricular activities were becoming a problem, but he didn’t want his friends pointing it out.
Michael stared at the table, his hazel eyes hooded and a little regretful. I watched Will through the doors as he lit a cigarette, a habit he’d picked up last year.
“So, anyway,” Michael continued, “we get inside the hotel, do an ‘assessment’, and see if everything is…copacetic before we try to buy it, right?”
I nodded, taking a drink of my water.
“And if it’s not?”
Meaning ‘And if Damon is there?’
Then we handle it. But before I had a chance to answer him, I saw Michael jerk back as water and ice cubes spilled onto the sleeve of his jacket. “Jesus Christ…”
The girl hurriedly lifted the pitcher back up, bowing her head in apology.
“Iz-vee-nee-tye,” she gasped out in a small, scared voice. I glanced up at her, unable to see her face hidden under the hat. She pulled the container away and set it down, grabbing a napkin and trying to wipe off his sleeve.
“Just…” He snatched the towel away from her. “Leave it alone. And take this away.” He handed her his glass and the wet linen, immediately turning away and dismissing her.
She bowed her head again, hurrying off to hide herself somewhere behind me where the serving table and her cart sat.
I stood up, walking toward the doors to the patio and looking out. “If everything isn’t how it should be,” I said, “then I’ll handle it.”
“Just you?” Michael stood up and made his way toward me.
“You take care of Rika,” I told him. “And Will.”
The business I had with Damon was private.
Michael leaned in, speaking low. “We all need to face him, especially Will. He’s floundering without Damon.”
“Damon tried to kill him,” I bit out. He’d tied a cinderblock to his ankle and threw him in the fucking ocean.
“Yeah.” Michael nodded, meeting my eyes. “His best friend tried to kill him.”
“We’re his best friends.”
“Damon and Will were always closer,” he said. “Just like the two of us are closer. Will needs Damon. You know he’s spiraling. He needs to face him. So, let us all find the son of a bitch and give him a warning he’ll never forget.”
“You want him in the same room as Rika, too?”
Michael ran his hand through his hair and e
xhaled. That was a no.
“You take care of everyone else, and I’ll take care of The Pope,” I instructed. “He’s no less of a threat to Rika than Trevor was.”
And we both knew how Michael had handled his brother. The idea of doing the same to Damon—someone who had been a friend—made my stomach roll, but I would do what I had to do. To keep my friends safe.
And to keep Damon’s goddamn mouth shut.
I turned and walked back to the table, remaining standing. I spotted Will outside the doors making his way toward us again, hopefully having calmed down.
“Enough of the fucking waiting,” I told Michael, picking up my glass and taking another drink. “Let’s take care of loose ends.”
“Yeah, speaking of waiting,” Will chimed in, stepping through the door. “Where is this guy? This assistant we’re supposed to meet?”
I watched as he opened the doors to the hallway and called out to someone. “Hey?” He backed up, letting the man, Hanson, come into the room.
“Yes, sir.” He looked to Will in question.
“Where is this assistant we’re supposed to be meeting?” Will asked. “We don’t have all day.”
Will probably just wanted this over with so he could get away from Michael.
The man stared at Will hesitantly, and I suddenly felt like a shoe was about to drop. I narrowed my gaze on him. What was going on?
Hanson then turned his head, speaking to the young woman. “Banks?” he asked. “Did you need anything more from the gentlemen?”
Banks? What? My heart pounded in my chest.
I slowly moved my gaze to the servant girl he was speaking to, the one who had stood so demurely next to the wall, quiet this whole time.
I watched as she raised her head, the timid and submissive demeanor now gone. Her gaze met mine, dark brows framing green eyes with a blue rim around the iris. Her chin lifted, a subtle defiance in the gesture.
Oh, my God. Her?
“No, I think I have all I need,” she told him.
She then untied the white apron around her waist and tossed it on the cart of food.
I forced down the lump in my throat. Fuck.
That dark hair hidden under a cap, the slender shoulders and narrow jaw, the men’s clothes she still wore… Only instead of the dirty jeans, broken shoes, and oversized sweatshirt I remembered, it was now a pair of black suit pants, a black shirt, and a striped neck tie.
I dropped my eyes. Her fingernails were still dirty, though, visible in her fingerless leather gloves.
She turned on her heel and left the room, grabbing a suit jacket off the chair in the hall and donning it as she disappeared from sight. I followed her with my eyes, my breathing gone shallow.
“Gentlemen,” Hanson said. “Mr. Torrance’s assistant will update him, and one of them will be in touch. If you’re finished, I’ll see you out.”
“What a minute,” Michael barked. “That was his assistant?”
I let out a breath, turning my eyes on him. “That was Banks.”
He pinched his eyebrows together, not remembering, but then the light dawned, and he looked back down the hall to where she’d disappeared and then back to me. And his jaw dropped open.
“What did she hear that she’s going to update him on?” Will spoke up, looking worried. “Did we say anything bad?”
I laughed to myself, my blood suddenly running hot as memories of that night came flooding back.
“Do you think she remembers us?” Michael asked.
I took a step, all of us following Hanson out of the dining room and toward the front door as I mumbled under my breath, “Does she realize he’s not around to get in my way this time?”
Kai
Devil’s Night
Six Years Ago
I’d been on edge ever since confession earlier.
Looking over my shoulder, taking second glances at everyone as I walked down hallways and sat in classrooms.
The girl in the confessional, I had to know her, right? She certainly knew who I was.
And steal me? What the hell did that mean? I shot a glance to the girls sitting and chatting in the bleachers, ready and waiting to give the guys on the court some attention after practice. Any one of them could be her. Any girl in this school could be her. While I liked a little mystery, I preferred being on the inside track. The one doing the playing, not the one being played with.
Shooting the basketball over to Will, I jogged to the end of the court with everyone else, twenty sets of sneakers skidding across the floor as the ball changed hands twice more and then came back to me. I caught it, breathing hard with sweat cooling my back as I pushed into the point guard at my back, dribbling, twisting, and then shooting. The ball soared through the air, skidded off the rim, and I clenched my jaw as it missed the basket and fell into Damon’s waiting hands.
He grinned, running back down to the other end of the court, satisfied in my failure.
Anger sat like a brick in my stomach, but I kept quiet. I shouldn’t have missed that. I was thinking about her, and I would until I figured out who she was. I should’ve barged in there and confronted her when I had the chance.
Damon passed the ball off to Michael, and he caught it, his T-shirt hanging out of the back of his shorts as he ran down the court. There was a flash of something off to my left, and I turned my head in time to see the branches and leaves of the forty-foot sycamore outside the gym blowing against the windows above the bleachers.
“That fucking wind is going crazy,” Will said, rushing up next to me. He moved light and quick, keeping one eye on the ball as he cast me a glance, smiling. “It’s gonna be a wild night tonight.”
Yeah, wild. Compared to what?
My friends didn’t need Devil’s Night as an excuse to get crazy. But I did. It was the one night I let myself make really bad decisions. Decisions made out of desire and selfishness and a need to not think methodically over every detail of every movement I made every day. I wasn’t raised to be perfect, but I was raised to do everything with perfection in mind. Slow, careful, focused… showing the same consideration in pouring a cup of coffee as I do taking a math test. Or working on my car.
Or screwing a girl.
And I was more than ready to let go of it all. My rough edges were itching to get out.
But now, instead of anticipating all the ways I was going to get my hands dirty tonight, I was obsessing over her and whether or not I would see her. How would I recognize her?
The best part about talking to her this morning was that I didn’t think she intended to be mysterious or to get under my skin the way she did. She wasn’t working me like other girls tried to do. What she didn’t say was just as interesting as what she did. Her breathlessness, her small voice, the flirtation that slipped out in her careful words as if she wanted something but had no clue how to be bold. I liked her innocence, but I could feel her desire to shuck it. So perfect.
“Hey, man.” Michael nudged my arm. I glanced at him, trying to look like I hadn’t just spaced off again when he tipped his chin, gesturing to my right. “Your dad.”
I turned my head, keeping my scowl but straightening, nonetheless. My father stood on the edge of the court, staring at me with his arms crossed over his chest, his sharp, black suit in severe contrast to the cream-colored walls and the warm wood of the court floor. What was he doing here? He knew I was going out after school.
His black hair, same color as mine, looked as perfect as it had this morning, and his dark eyes and pinched brows leveled on me, telling me he was either happy about the weather, satisfied with last night’s workout, or completely put-out about the state of affairs in the Ukraine. I could never really tell.
Without asking for permission to leave practice, I walked toward him, pulling my shirt out of the back of my shorts and slipping it back on.
“Father,” I said, grabbing my towel off the bottom bleacher and wiping my face.
He didn’t say anything, waiting to have my ful
l attention before speaking. This is where I was both lucky and cursed. While my friends’ fathers were in their fifties, my father was only forty-three. And he took care of himself. He had no trouble keeping pace with me and had the patience of a saint.
Stuffing my towel into my duffel bag, I pulled out my water. “I won’t be home for dinner. Mom told you, right?”
“She did,” he said, his expression stoic again. “But I would prefer that you change your mind. You can spend time with your friends another night.”
“Another night won’t be Devil’s Night.” I popped the top of my water bottle, unable to meet his eyes. “It’s once a year, and it’s the last one before I go off to college. I’ll stay out of trouble.”
He remained still, not arguing or moving as I took a drink and continued to pack up the rest of my gear. The laughter and energy grew louder as everyone picked up their bags, and I heard the locker room door swing open and closed several times.
None of it made the feel of his eyes on me fade.
“You’re disappointed in me,” I stated. “I know.”
I zipped up my bag and swung it over my head. My father never forbid me from doing anything, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew exactly what we got up to on Devil’s Night.
“I wish you made better choices,” he clarified. “That’s all.”
I finally looked up at him. “Your choices, you mean.”
“The right choices.” His eyes turned stern. “This is why respecting your elders is important. We have a lot more experience making mistakes, Kai.”
I couldn’t help it. I smiled. “I never make mistakes,” I replied. “I’m either right or I’m learning. Jaku niku kyo shoku.”
I recited one of the many Japanese sayings he’d spouted over the course of my life.
The weak are meat, the strong eat.
And as much as I knew he wanted to say more, he nodded, letting it go with a barely visible smile on his face. Finally.
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