by J. L. Beck
“No, I didn’t help, but I would have if Nic asked me to. I would have kidnapped you and gotten my revenge that first night.”
Something in me snaps, and I jump off the stool and launch myself at him. I’m done being the docile woman, being kidnapped, and tossed around. “I’m not some fucking Barbie doll to be snatched out of her house and passed around to everyone who god damn thinks I have some kind of value!” I scream, and without thinking, I pound my fists into his very firm chest.
I don’t get far with my assault. His huge hands grip onto my wrists, and he drags my arms back down to my sides, leaning into my face with a vindictive smile on his lips.
“You do that again, and you’ll regret it. Just because we’re blood-related doesn’t mean I care about you. I won’t think twice about hurting you.”
“Then hurt me because I have no information for you.”
He blows out a breath and shakes his head. “Why are you protecting him when you already know how much of a monster he is?”
I shake in his hold, trying to pry myself loose. “I’m not protecting him. I’m protecting myself.”
Lucas snaps, his features darken, and the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “Stop fucking lying to me!” he roars, shaking me until my head lolls around. “You know he killed your sister, right? Our fucking sister. She’s dead, Celia, because she didn’t want to marry the man he decided she should. He would have done the same to you.”
My chest seizes up, refusing to gather air, refusing to let me speak.
His grip loosens, and his hands fall away from my skin. “He shot her in the fucking head himself and then told everyone she committed suicide.”
All the pain from my sister’s death comes rushing back. It’s like trying to breathe around a balloon as I hear my mother’s voice growling at me to keep my chin up and stop blubbering. I see the pale, cold skin of my sister’s eyelids closed forever. I taste the salt of my tears, which never seem to stop rolling down my cheeks.
Her loss punched a hole in my heart. My best friend is gone, and there is no way to bring her back. I don’t think about what I’m doing. I simply react. Dragging my hand up, I slap him hard across the face. His head jerks to the side as a wash of pain flares up my fingers and into my arm.
“What is wrong with you? Why would you say something so disgusting?”
Before I can fully grasp what is happening, another kind of pain hits me as his hand contacts my cheek. He hits me with an open palm, the sharp smack burning across my cheek. I can’t really say I’m surprised. Lucas isn’t the type of man you can hurt without hurting you back to the same degree. It should hurt more, but compared to the ache now taking root in my chest, nothing can hurt like that.
“Hit me again, and I’ll make sure it’s the last time.”
The pain means nothing to me, and I grit my teeth as I speak, “Then shut your fucking mouth about my sister. My sister. You didn’t even know her, so don’t talk about her.”
He cocks his head to the side. “Is that the problem, Celia? You fear our relationship because if we share the same blood, maybe you’re a little more like me than you want to be? Maybe you have what it takes to make your father pay for what he took from you.”
I swallow against a wave of bile forcing its way up my throat and stare at the floor. It’s not that I fear I’m like Lucas. He’s more like his insane-ass brother than me. It’s that I fear what I’m going to do to my father the next time I see him, if what Lucas told me is true. And yet, even as I want to doubt every single word, I know in my heart he’s not lying. What does he have to lie to me for?
He shoves past me, causing me to stumble into the side of the counter. I use the cold countertop to steady myself and get a grip. If I don’t remain calm, I won’t be able to get out of here. That is, if he doesn’t ultimately plan to kill me.
I keep him in the corner of my eye as I walk back around to the stool and sit. He crosses the room and strips out of his shirt, then drags a heavy punching bag on a chain from the corner of the room.
“If you’re going to workout, then let me sleep.”
He delivers a solid punch to the grey vinyl, making it swing on its hook. “No, the only reason I’m doing this right now is so I don’t vent my frustration out on your face. Be grateful and start thinking of things I might want to know about your father.”
When he turns back to the bag, he starts up a furious pace against it. As each punch echoes through the room, I flinch, thinking about him hitting me with those powerful fists. With his shirt off and in actual lighting, I can see more of his skin. His scarred and bruised skin. Almost from the edge of his pants all the way up his shoulders are bruises in various stages of healing, old scars and nicks breaking up the purple splotches.
“What the hell happened to you?” I ask, knowing I shouldn’t engage him. I should let him think I want to help him in whatever stupid thing he’s got planned.
Of course, he doesn’t deign to answer me, so I get up and cross the room to look at him better. Yes, all along his ribs are large rings of purple. Like someone took a baseball bat to his midsection. “Did Nicolo do that to you? You didn’t let him, right? Why would he hurt you like that?”
Even knowing what little I do about his brother, I can’t see him beating Lucas for no apparent reason. Not unless he did something that angered him. Nicolo punished me on every occasion he could think about, but usually never without a warning.
I move closer, standing a few feet from his elbow. “You should wrap those up and maybe ice them. They look painful.”
“I’m fine,” he grits out. “I like to fight on the weekend. You know, let loose. Some people go dancing, I’ll smash in someone’s skull. Same thing.”
I’m not surprised by his words, but I am surprised that he is sharing something about himself with me, no matter how cruel it is.
“Go sit down, or our little break from questioning is going to be over, and I promise, the next round will be far more physical.”
I wave at his body. “But it looks like you’re in pain. You could have broken ribs; you should see a doctor and get yourself checked out.”
He steadies the bag as it swings away and faces me. “I don’t need to see a doctor, and I don’t care if it hurts. The pain reminds me I’m alive. I want the pain. Now, go sit the fuck down and get out of my face.”
I blink at the bite in his voice and the rage in his tone. He likes the pain? What is he, a sadist? It’s obvious he’s not used to people looking at him, caring for him, noticing him even, not in the shadow of his brother. That strikes something within me. I’d always been the little sister, the less pretty, less tall, less everything version of my sister.
Hoping to get through to him, I touch his shoulder softly, gentling my tone. “You deserve to take care of yourself. Remaining in pain won’t change anything.”
His fingers tighten around the bag in front of him. “What would you know about it, princess?” I flinch at the pet name for me. He definitely doesn’t call me princess like Nicolo does. His tone is all murderous rage. “You were pampered and spoiled, brought up in your mansion with anything and everything you wanted. After our parents died, we had to scrape and claw our way to the top. And every day, we have to fight to stay here. So, don’t give me any of your bullshit. You don’t know what it’s like to starve, to sleep on the streets. To wonder if the last breath you took will be the final one.”
He shoves the bag back into the corner and slips his shirt back over his head. “Since you seem to want to talk, let’s return to my questions.”
I retreat a few steps, but he doesn’t let me get far, grasping my upper arm to drag me toward him. “Does your father have any fears?”
“If he does, he never told me them,” I whisper, trying to rectify this man in front of me with every version he presents. The man who saved me from the auction block to this fearsome fighter in front of me.
“Are you sure about that?” he asks, tightening his grip.
A bol
t of pain lights up my arm. I want to be strong, to be fierce, but there is no fighting with Lucas. “You’re hurting me. Let go.”
“Answer the question.”
“I’m fucking sure he’s never mentioned any fears to me. We’ve never been a sharing sort of family, and even if we were, no one confesses their fears out loud.”
Instead of releasing me, he tightens his hold. Pins and needles shoot down my limb in time with my racing heart.
“Fine. No fears that you know of, but joys? How about those? Anything he loves most since obviously, you and your sister aren’t on that list.”
My mouth drops open. He’s an asshole. “Is that necessary? Why are you doing this? I understand you want answers, fine, but you don’t need to hurt me, and you don’t need to be a dick.”
Lucas cocks his head. “Are you this mouthy with my brother?”
“Yes, and he punishes me for it every single time.”
His eyes narrow, and his mouth tips up at one side. “Oh, I’ve heard how he likes to punish you.”
My face flames hot, and I glance away. If he wants to hurt me, at the very least, I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing it in my eyes. “Besides his cigar collection, I don’t know of anything my father loves. Well, outside of power. He enjoys being in charge of any situation he finds himself in. If he’s not, then he won’t do it.”
He gives me a little shake, a new slice of pain radiating down to my fingers. “Is that all you have?
“Fuck, yes. Now, let me go.” I try to pull my arm from his grasp, but once he lets me go, his other hand clamps around my neck as he slowly backs me toward the wall.
“I’m done playing games. The only reason I saved your worthless life was to find out the worst possible way to murder your father, but if you can’t tell me that, then you’re useless to me, and I might as well kill you.”
I clamp my mouth shut and stare at him. If he wants me to beg, he’s going to have to work a lot harder than that.
“Nothing? Well…” He pulls a knife from his pants and flicks it open smoothly. But he doesn’t do more than hover the pointed tip near my cheek.
It’s a line in the sand. Which one of us will break first? Because I can see in his eyes, he won’t kill me. At the very least, to protect himself from his brother’s rage.
Maybe he can tell what I’m thinking because he says, “I don’t have to kill you to make you hurt. Or give you a matching scar on your other cheek.”
And yet, he only stares into my eyes as if daring me to make him cut me.
“You won’t.” I shake my head slightly, careful not to touch the blade.
“Why wouldn’t I? You mean nothing to me.”
“Because you’re not like him.” I don’t have to explain that I’m talking about our father. Something in Lucas’s eyes changes. Surprise, maybe? Realization?
Before I can say more, the door bursts inward, slamming against the dining room wall. On the threshold is Nicolo, his gaze promising murder, his eyes fixed on Lucas.
5
Nic
The eye of a hurricane is a trick. There’s nothing quiet or calm about it. The eye is there for the target to realize the storm has only just begun.
And this calm settling over me as I survey the scene in my brother’s safe house is nothing more than a warning. Too bad he won’t be able to do anything about it.
I carefully shut the front door behind me and stalk forward. Lucas turns to put his back against the wall and pulls Celia tight into his chest; the glint of a knife shines in the light as he brings it to her throat. I know my brother well enough to know if he wanted to kill her, she would already be dead. This isn’t about wanting to hurt her. It’s about trying to save his own ass. And I suspect, more of a reaction than a threat.
Instead of focusing my attention on him, I survey her, cataloging the leggings she has on and the oversized T-shirt she’s wearing. The shirt is one of his own, and I want to rip it off her body. My eyes roam her beautiful face, even with her makeup half crusted on her face, I’ve never seen a more beautiful woman.
There’s a red mark on her cheek, and I step forward to rub my thumb over it. Her big brown eyes are wide, staring up at me, awaiting my reaction.
“Did he hurt you, princess?”
“Why? You didn’t care if I was going to get hurt when you sold me.” She throws the words into my face, and I force myself not to react.
“Tell me,” I order. “If you don’t, I’ll assume he did.”
She shakes her head frantically. “No, he didn’t hurt me.”
Now that she’s confirmed as unharmed, I lift my gaze to my brother and let all that boiling rage spill over the surface.
Knowing my next move, and no doubt feeling the change in the air, he shoves Celia away, and she stumbles behind me. At least he has the presence of mind to get her out of the way before I beat the shit out of him. It’s enough to keep me from killing him. For now.
I don’t have time to see if she’s okay before Lucas comes swinging at me with the knife still tucked into his fist.
“You’d stab me, brother? After everything we’ve been through.” I blink, shutting down my feelings, my thought process.
He huffs as I pry the knife from his grip and throw it across the room. “You’re going to do a lot worse to me. I can see it in your eyes.”
I punch him in the stomach, causing him to double over while I use my other hand and grip him by the back of his neck. “You are so right. But the difference is, you deserve it. You stole something that belongs to me, and I’m here to get it back. As my brother, you should’ve known better, but it seems you don’t care. Therefore, I won’t care what happens to you while you suffer the consequences of your actions.”
Celia steps into the corner of my vision, and I meet her gaze. “Please, don’t hurt him. You’ll end up killing him if you keep hitting him like that.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Lucas yells at her while scrambling to get out of my hold. He thinks I’m distracted by her presence, but I’m hyper-focused on protecting her.
I lift him by his neck and slam him into the wall. Then deliver several more blows, one to his face and two to the ribcage. He grunts and slides to the floor in a heap. My knuckles are split from the force of my punches, and my hand throbs, but the pain doesn’t matter to me. I thrive on it. It’s like a drug. Each blow I deliver is another hit of dopamine to the brain.
“Please, stop!” Celia screeches from behind me. But I can’t stop, not now that I can finally let all the festering rage out.
I drag him back up by the hair and pull his face to mine. I grit my teeth as I speak. “Did you fuck her? Is that why you wanted her? You wanted a taste of her so badly you had to steal her away to get it?”
Celia gasps from behind me, but my gaze never wavers. The look in Lucas’s eyes is one I understand all too well. It’s self-loathing, hate, and rage swirling into a tornado that will only end up destroying him.
“No, I didn’t touch her like that,” he spits through blood-stained teeth.
I nod, and there is a slight ease of rage that uncoils from within my gut. “And that’s the only reason I will not kill you right now.”
I hit him again, enjoying the way the pain rips through my arm and my shoulder as it makes contact with his body.
“Please,” Celia whispers behind me. An ache builds in my chest as I turn to look at her. In all the times I held her, she’d never begged me like that, never for herself. But she will for him? For another fucking man?
I release my grip and he slides to the floor. I let him stay there, his head lolling side to side as he grapples with consciousness.
She’s on her knees, tears ringing her beautiful eyes, and I crouch in front of her so I can look at her better. “Why? Why are you begging for his life when he kidnapped you again? Why beg for his life when you didn’t even beg me for your own?”
Without blinking, she says, “He saved me. If it weren’t for him, I would be a sex slave rig
ht now.”
Her words deliver another blow. She doesn’t know I was coming back for her, and I doubt she’d believe me if I told her. I sold her, and I can never take that back. Still, I don’t think that’s the only reason. There is more, something she isn’t telling me.
I shake my head and lift her chin, forcing our gazes together. “Not good enough. Tell me why you really want to save him. Give me a reason I’ll actually buy.”
Her shuddering exhale tells me more than she thinks. “Lucas is my half-brother.”
“Excuse me?” I’m taken aback by her response.
“Lucas is my half-brother, but before you freak out, we are not related.” She waves a hand at him before her arm falls limply back to her sides. “He saved me because he thinks I can tell him about my father, our father, but I want answers too, and if you kill him, then neither of us will get those.”
I shrug. “What does that matter to me?”
Her shoulders slump back as tears slip from her eyes and down the apples of her cheeks. My gaze gravitates to the red mark on her pale skin, and the pulsing need to pummel Lucas all over again reappears.
“Maybe I don’t want you to lose your only brother? I don’t want you to kill him, least of all for me. There’s no going back from that. I won’t be the cause for his blood on your hands.”
“You’ve called me a monster more times than I can count. What makes you think I give a shit? You’re mine, Celia. He knew that, and still, he took you from me. So, I’ll ask you one more time, princess, and you need to give me a straight answer, one worthy of his life. Why is it so important to you he stays alive?”
This time she doesn’t have an answer for me, and I’m through being patient. I stand and tower over her. “Well, if you don’t have a good enough reason, then give me a moment. I’ll take care of him, and then we can leave this place for good.”
She grabs my fist between her smaller palms, trying to stop me. “Please. He’s my brother too.” The words come out deflated. “I already lost my sister, and even if he’s fucking crazy, I can’t lose my only real family.”