Master of Salt & Bones

by Keri Lake

  Throat bobbing with a swallow, she can’t possibly imagine the ways I’d ruin an innocent thing like her. “If that’s what it takes to save my family. Yes.”

  The twitch of my eye fails to conceal the chaos exploding inside of me. This girl. This fucking beautiful, painfully fascinating girl. Snatching up her wrist, I grind my jaw as I twist the knife from her grasp, the glare on her face almost comical. The quick rise and fall of her chest betrays the defiance burning in her eyes, the courage she’s wearing like a shitty makeover.

  Lifting her wrist between us, I run my thumb over her hammering pulse. “Do you feel that, Isa? The rapid pulse in your veins? The hard pounding in your chest? That’s your body’s natural defenses, warning you to stay the fuck away. Listen to it.” I push off her, all I can do to keep from acting on the sudden appetite I’ve developed for a sassy nineteen-year-old. The phantom sensation of the blade still lingers across my throat.

  Get her out of here before you do something stupid.

  “Please. You’re the only chance I have.”

  I fold up the blade and toss it onto her lap. “I can’t help you. Return the doll, and we’ll have it repaired. Consider this a warning that, if you ever steal from me again, I’ll take pleasure in watching the police cuff you before locking you away.”

  “What about my family?”

  “I said I can’t help you. You’re far too young for what you’re offering.”

  “I’m of age. I’m not a child. I’ve had boyfriends, you know. And sex!” The desperation in her voice only strums the depraved visuals tickling my thoughts.

  “If ever I was desperate and stupid enough to have you, Isa, make no mistake, that’d be the day you’re properly fucked by a man, not a boy. It’s not an amusing diversion, but something I put a very concentrated effort into. Pleasure is business for me, and you’re not equipped to handle my ruthless nature. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

  “Please. I’m begging you, Lucian.”

  “Get out of my office before I change my mind and press charges for stealing.” I lean toward her again, sliding my hand over the delicate curve of her neck. “And if you ever hold a knife to my throat again, you’ll find out how adept I am at disarming a threat.” My head blares a warning, as my eyes dip to her lips once more, and I release her, instantly regretting the missed contact.

  As hard-pressed as she was to hide her tears, the sniffling as she dashes for the door is unmistakable. The moment she’s gone, Rand reenters my office.

  “My apologies, Sir. I did my best to ensure she was the right candidate for--”

  “I want you to set up a meeting with Franco. Let him know I’m ready to discuss negotiations, and I’d like to invite him here for it.”

  “Here, Master? Your father always felt it was too dangerous to invite the Scarpinatos to the Manor.”

  “In case you’ve forgotten, my father isn’t here running the show. I am.” I fall into my chair, while my body scrambles to undo whatever the hell it is that happens when I’m around that girl. The way I can’t seem to control myself, like a prepubescent schoolboy who hasn’t yet learned how to deal with a hard-on.

  “I’ve not forgotten, Master. I meant no disrespect. I’ll arrange this meeting, as you requested.”

  “Good. And send Makaio in. He’ll be thrilled to know I have a real task for him.”

  “Of course. I’ll fetch him immediately. And what of the girl?”

  The girl. The girl. The aggravating, beautiful girl. “Keep an eye on her. I have a feeling she may try to leave. I want her to remain here, at least until I’ve decided what I want to do with her.”

  “I’ll see it done. My contact should have the information you requested soon. I’ll forward it on to you, once he’s gathered it.”

  “Fantastic.” As if my curiosity wasn’t already piqued, the incident with the knife only solidifies my interest in her. I can’t even look at the screen where the video remains paused.

  And now I have the perfect excuse to do something completely reckless and impulsive. Only took the tears of a desperate girl to give me the opportunity I’ve been waiting for.

  Chapter 31

  Isadora

  I set the doll, with its broken hand, into Rand’s awaiting palms, unable to look him in the eye.

  “To say that I’m disappointed is an understatement. I thought very highly of you, Isa. I thought you were the perfect fit for our family.”

  As much as I want to feel bad for what I’ve done, the truth is, I still have a shit-storm to take care of at home, and at the moment, that takes precedence over guilt. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’ll see if I can salvage Mrs. Blackthorne’s doll. We’ll keep this under wraps, as I’m sure she’ll be less forgiving than her son.”

  With a solemn nod, I dare to look up at him. “I appreciate that.”

  “It’s of no concern to me what you appreciate. I’m doing this for Mrs. Blackthorne’s sake. She, too, thinks very highly of you.”

  This man deserves a Master’s Degree in guilt-tripping. If I wasn’t so preoccupied over a dangerous criminal showing up at my aunt’s house in the next couple of days, I’d probably find myself teetering on the edge of the roof, like Lucian the other night, weighted down by shame.

  Without another word, Rand walks off, and I close the door to my bedroom. From beneath the bed, I grab my suitcase to begin packing up my stuff.

  A text chimes on my phone, and I open it to see the message my aunt has been waiting to send me.

  You need to come home. Family emergency.

  Tension winds inside my muscles, the disappointment of having failed her pressing down on my conscience.

  Abort mission. Something came up. I have to figure out another plan.

  Are you in trouble, Isa?

  No, it’s okay. Just let me figure this out.

  A knock at the door leaves me huffing with exhaustion. Maybe Rand decided to smear my nose in it some more?

  “Come in!” I don’t even have the energy to face him at this point. My whole world is crumbling around me, and I can’t muster the will to care about some stupid fucking doll that’s worth more than my aunt’s life.

  The door clicks, and I twist to find Giulia standing in the doorway. Her gaze dips toward my suitcase and back as she steps into the room and closes the door behind her. “I take it he declined.”

  “Is it obvious?” Perhaps it’s the presence of another woman, one who was also desperate at one time, that finally punches through my defenses. I turn away from her to hide the tears welling in my eyes again. If there’s one thing I hate, it’s crying in front of someone. “I feel … lost right now.”

  The gentle touch on my shoulder twitches my muscles. “What will you do?”

  “All I can do. Go home and be there for my aunt. I can’t leave her alone in all this.”

  “Do you think that’s a good idea? Do you think she’d want you to place yourself in danger that way?”

  “Versus what? Staying here and pretending my life is as perfect as everyone else’s? I’m not going to play house with a nut job, while some drug dealer decides to use my aunt as target practice.”

  Sighing, she lowers her head. “You asked him for help?”

  “He said … that I was too young for whatever help I didn’t realize I was requesting.”

  Gaze still cast from mine, she picks at her thumb, fidgeting. “Then, he told you of our arrangement.”

  “In so many words.”

  “I’m surprised he denied you.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because he hasn’t touched me since the day you arrived here.”

  An agitated laugh escapes me, as I unzip the bag I intend to have packed within the next ten minutes. “I don’t think that has anything to do with me.”

  “Maybe not. But as recent as the night before you arrived, he called for me every night. Now, he wants nothing to do with me.”

  Called for her? For some reason, all that
comes to mind is the scene in Dracula, when Lucy fucks the wolf. “Lucian thinks I’m a child. He treats me like a little girl. An irritating little girl.”

  “Well, I’ve seen the way he’s dealt with thieves. The fact that he didn’t fire you tells me he thinks more of you than you probably realize.” Backing away from me, she heads toward the door. “Anyway, I just wanted to check on you. I’ll pray that everything works out in the end.”

  “Thanks. But I don’t think God gives a shit about a girl who doesn’t have much faith in prayer.”

  “He might surprise you, Isa. They say he works in mysterious ways.”

  Mysterious indeed. I couldn’t have guessed when I woke up this morning that I’d be sacrificing myself to the Devil.

  Once she’s out of the room, I go back to packing up my clothes. I leave the new wardrobe hanging in the armoire, cringing at the soda-stained shirt. It’s then I realize I forgot to send Aunt Midge a text to come pick me up, with all the Giulia distraction.

  “Shit.” When I lift my phone, there’s a text message from her.

  Holy shit on a shingle, that was fast!!!!

  I frown down at her message and the barrage of exclamations she uses and text her back.

  What was fast?

  I have to bite my nails to keep from losing my mind, as she takes a turtle’s lifetime to answer, so I shake my head and dial her number instead.

  The moment she picks up, I can hear laughter in her voice. “You’re a saint. I’m convinced of it!”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “He returned your mother, Isa. And apologized on top of it all.”

  “Who?”

  “Franco.”

  Franco? The guy who broke fingers, burned my mother, and threatened to kill both of them Franco? Somehow, I can’t picture an apology in all of that violence. It’s unfitting, only adding to my disbelief.

  “He showed up here with that Hawaiian guy, driving a fancy black car. I nearly had a heart attack when he walked up into the yard, but he had your mother with him. She’s a little worse for the wear, looks like they roughed her up most of the night, but she’s going to be okay. She’s resting now.”

  Makaio? I pull the phone away to see it’s only been an hour since I left Lucian’s office. “What happened? What did he say?”

  “He just said it was a misunderstanding. He apologized and said he won’t bother us again. That was it. He left with the Hawaiian.”

  “You’re sure it was Makaio.”

  “Same guy who carried in your luggage that first night? Yeah. There’s no mistaking that one.”

  This has Lucian written all over it. He has to be the one behind this. Who else would send Makaio to return my mother?

  “I don’t know what you did, but thank you. I know you’re not a fan of Jenny, but you saved your mom’s life today. You saved mine. I love ya, Isa.” Her voice is shaky again, like she might cry, which is my cue to cut the call short.

  “Sure, sure. Love you, too. Look, um, send me a text later, to make sure all is still okay.” I still can’t wrap my head around this. Everything feels numb and spacey, but cold and tingly at the same time. Shock, maybe?

  “I will. In the meantime, your mom’s gonna need some time to heal. I’m letting her stay a few days.”

  “Yeah. Okay. I’m glad it worked out.”

  “Okay, I’ll see you this weekend, hun.”

  I click out of the call and close my eyes over tears of relief. My knees buckle beneath me, and I collapse to the floor, finally breaking down.

  Humble pie was never my favorite flavor.

  Swallowing back the relief and humiliation, I stand in the elevator, waiting for the doors to open on the third floor. Arriving unannounced is as frightening as having to ask the guy for help, but seeing as I held a blade to his throat a mere hour ago, this is probably the easiest thing I’ve had to do today.

  The door opens at Lucian’s office, and just like when I arrived this morning, I’m greeted by the delicious scent of cologne and leather. A masculine aroma that naturally waters the mouth.

  With his feet kicked up on the desk, Lucian is leaning back in his chair, watching me approach, a glass half full of what is probably liquor beside an actively burning cigarette he holds over the ashtray.

  With the top of his shirt unbuttoned and his tie loosened, the sight of him sends butterflies to my stomach, the way he watches me like a predator eyeing prey.

  “I see your balls haven’t shrunk in the last hour.” He flicks his cigarette before taking a drag, never taking his eyes off me.

  The comment brings a smile to my face, and I bite the inside of my cheek to hide my amusement. “It seems I owe you an apology.”

  “You owe me more than that, as I recall.”

  “The doll.”

  “Rand is having a fuck of a time gluing its small hand back in place. Keeps falling off.”

  A snort of laughter escapes me, and I slap a palm to my face and clear my throat. “I’m sorry. You’re welcome to take the cost of repair out of my wages.” Exhaling a shaky breath, I cross my arms over my chest so he can’t see the shallow breaths of my anxiety. I’m convinced the guy feeds off fear. “My aunt contacted me to let me know that Franco returned my mother.”

  Reaching forward, he grabs the drink from the desk and takes a sip. “And?”

  “And he apologized. She said Makaio was with him, so I’m assuming you had a hand in that.”

  “It’s possible. A lot of weird shit’s gone down today.”

  Again, I find myself biting the inside of my cheek to stifle the urge to smile. “I just wanted to thank you. I don’t know what you told him, or what you did, but I appreciate it.”

  “Franco is a long-time associate of mine.”

  A drug dealer? Why the hell would he be associated with a drug dealer?

  “His family, I should say.” Something about his voice always carries an air of boredom. “He’s dabbled in some less than admirable hobbies, as of late. At any rate, he’ll no longer be an issue for you, or your family.”

  Gaze glued to the floor, I breathe in the relief once again and nod. “I feel that I owe you something for all of this … mess.”

  He reaches for the decanter of liquor, filling his glass while he shoves the cigarette between his lips. “Consider it payment for saving my life,” he says around it.

  “What?”

  “The other night. On the roof. Had you not been there, well, I’d probably be a spatter of bones and blood.”

  Grimacing, I swallow back the visual of that. “It was nothing special.”

  “Saving my life, or what followed?”

  “The, um … the kiss was … very good. I enjoyed it very much.”

  Leaning forward again to flick his smoke, he tips his head, as if to study me. “You found enjoyment in a drunken kiss?” His cheeks cave with a long draw of his cigarette, before he stamps it out in the ashtray. “You’d have to be quite inexperienced to fancy something so meaningless.”

  Ouch.

  “I guess I didn’t consider it all that meaningless.”

  “I guess you haven’t been kissed enough to know the difference.”

  What the hell is wrong with this guy? “Is it your intent to constantly insult me? Here, I’m trying to thank you for helping me out, and suddenly I’m feeling under attack.”

  “Attack?” He chuffs a laugh, and his tongue sweeps across his lips before they curve into a mocking smirk. “No, I don’t intend to constantly insult you. Your gratitude is noted.”

  “Good.”

  “I trust you’ll be back to assist my mother tomorrow. She’s asked for you, as I understand.”

  “I promise. No more shenanigans.”

  “Fantastic. If that’s all, I have some pressing matters to attend to.”

  “That’s all.”

  I never know how to take Lucian Blackthorne. He’s an enigma to me. Even as I make my way back toward the elevator, having accomplished what I came up here
to do, I feel unraveled. As if I’ve spent the last twenty minutes spinning in place, watching layers of my skin peel away. I hate that he has this effect on me, as though he sees right through me, with one of my weaknesses down to a science: my pride. If only I knew his. The one soft spot that I could punch through to find out if there’s anything on the other side of it. There has to be a heart inside this man. Why else would he help someone who means so little to him?

  The elevator door opens, and I step inside, keeping my attention glued to the red paisley carpeting. It’s only when they begin to close that I look up and catch him staring back at me. The eyes of the devil, burning right through me, and if not for the thick silver doors shutting him out, I’d probably crumble into a pile of ash.

  On the first floor, I exit past Makaio and Rand escorting a man I’ve never seen at the Manor before. Dark hair, and equally dark eyes beneath bushy eyebrows that lower with a scowl, he doesn’t divert his gaze as polite people do when passed.

  Like he recognizes me, or something.

  I don’t recognize him, at all. Should I?

  Confused, I turn around as Makaio leads him onto the elevator, and when he turns to face me again, his eyes pop wide.

  “Wait!” He lurches forward, held back by the massive Hawaiian beside him, and the doors close shut.

  In that moment, I wonder if I’ve just come face to face with Franco.

  Chapter 32

  Lucian

  Stepping from the elevator on the floor to the catacombs, I casually sip my drink, as the sound of screaming echoes down the shadowy corridor. I open the door to the room on the right, where Makaio blocks most of my view. All I can see from the doorway is a pair of trembling feet sticking out from the right of the massive bodyguard, as Makaio goes to work on removing Franco’s tongue, per my earlier request.

  Because the best meetings are the ones where I talk, and assholes listen.

  I stroll to the other side of the chair, getting a front row view of the carnage, where Franco lies in a bloody mess on the old dentist chair, his tongue on a silver tray beside him.