Hideaway
Page 24

I was irreplaceable. If my father didn’t see that yet, he would. Even if it’s the last thing he ever sees.
Gabriel inhaled a deep breath and stood up, his expression turning somewhat pleasant.
“This is actually perfect,” he said as he walked back around his desk, sounding almost chipper. “You’ll be able to keep an eye on him. You’ll get his house ready for Vanessa when she arrives. You’ll spend time at the dojo, working for him, training, whatever... You’ll be where he is and let me know if there’s anything I should worry about. With him or the rest of those little cunts.” He picked up his cigar and took a few puffs. “And if you’re brother comes out of hiding and provokes them again, you’ll protect him. Right?”
I averted my gaze. Of course, I would. I always did. But I didn’t want to do this. I couldn’t be around Kai every day.
Anger boiled under my skin.
I could argue. I could even leave. I didn’t love my father, and I was probably better off for it.
But I could best protect Damon with a seat at the table, and if I left I had nothing, goddammit. He needed me. Whether or not my father ever admitted it, he knew that.
When Damon got arrested in college and was sent to prison, I was on top of the situation before Gabriel. I bought all the muscle I could on the inside to make sure no one touched my brother, and when he got out last year, I cleaned up all of his messes. And whenever our father tried to rein him in and he couldn’t be controlled, I did what I always did. I exhausted my older brother and broke him until he collapsed and all the anger was gone. For a while anyway. It always came back.
Damon, Gabriel’s only son and sole heir, was only at his best when he had me taking care of him. Only when my brother had his keeper.
Gabriel stood there, looking at me with a rare interest all of a sudden. “How many men have you been with?” he asked.
I remained silent and steady, but my patience was getting harder to muster. How many men have I been with… Jesus.
My father came back around the desk to me, crowding my space and forcing me to look at him. I raised my stare, not bothering to hide the distaste in it.
“Do you know how to fuck?” he demanded plainly, getting to the point. “Do you know how to please him?”
Him.
Kai.
My insides shrunk, and I jerked out of his grasp, looking away again.
But he didn’t relent. He slowly pulled my hat off, letting it fall to the ground, and began unbuttoning my jacket. A jolt of fear hit me, but I didn’t fight, and I didn’t resist. I watched him through the long, dark strands now hanging over my face.
My father had never touched me, but I knew the reason most likely had nothing to do with the fact that I was his daughter and more to do with the fact that Damon didn’t want anyone touching me.
He pulled the jacket down my arms, and I sucked in a quick breath as he pushed my hair out of my eyes, the smell of diesel in the strands from working on one of the trucks earlier today drifting into my nose.
His fingers ran down my skin, and he sat back, studying me, tipping up my chin to take in my face like he hadn’t seen me nearly every day for the last eleven years.
He circled me, his hand drifting around my waist, and I ground my teeth as he lifted Damon’s old T-shirt to look at my stomach. He let it fall back down and his eyes came to rest on my chest, nodding in approval.
“You’re not still a virgin, are you?” he asked, probably suspicious when I didn’t answer. “I mean, Damon took care of that a long time ago, right?”
Bile rose up, swelling my throat, and I pushed his hands away. “You’re disgusting,” I gritted out, my eyes burning with tears.
How could he be so vile?
But he just laughed me off and walked back around his desk. “That boy would fuck a brick if it was wet enough. Don’t think we all didn’t know what was going on up in that tower.”
I could feel the tears springing up, but I just snarled and snatched my jacket off the ground and charged from the room.
My stomach churned with the prospect of what he expected from me. I could shoot, I could fight, I could convince every man in town to spend a thousand dollars on a twenty-dollar whore if I wanted to…. But I would not be turned over from one man to another like I’m chattel to be gifted at will. I was more. I was invaluable. This was my home.
I didn’t want to be around Kai Mori or his friends.
Swinging around the corner, I bolted up the stairs, hearing David’s voice coming from below. “Banks, I need to talk to you.”
“Later.”
I ran up to the second level, skipping stairs, and dug in my heels as I turned a corner and headed for the dark wooden door to my right. Taking my key out of my pocket, I unlocked the dead bolt and opened it.
I walked in, the soft glow of the wall sconces lighting another set of stairs as I closed the door and turned the lock again. Jogging up the second flight, I came right into a circular-shaped bedroom, the only room on the third floor.
Walking across the shiny hardwood floors, I unlocked the window and softly pushed open both panes of glass. The unusually warm October evening was made just a little crisper by the sudden winds, and I closed my eyes, inhaling the smell of earth and burning leaves carried on the breeze.
My skin started to buzz, and I already felt better. This room was another world. Our world. Damon’s and mine.
Leaving the window open, I walked across the room and opened the laptop, clicking on a playlist. Like a Nightmare began playing, and then I leaned over the bed, picking up a pillow.
Raising it to my nose, I inhaled, the faintest hint of fabric softener making my nostrils tingle. I knew I wouldn’t smell my brother’s scent on it, but I was disappointed anyway. I’d gone without him long enough. I was tired of being alone.
The bedding was new—I’d replaced it several months ago, and I cleaned the room regularly, just to make sure it was spotless if he ever showed up. But even though he hadn’t slept here in over a year, I still hoped every time I stepped foot in here that I would find some evidence he’d been home.
I placed the pillow back in its spot, the blacks, whites, and grays of the bedding crisp and perfect as I pulled the corners of the pillow, taking out the wrinkles.
Everything had to be perfect.
Gazing around the room, I took in the pristine floors, the dark walls and gold sconces, the black and white photos he’d hung up in high school…. Women and legs and glowing skin, not distasteful really but sex, nonetheless.
I didn’t like looking at them.
And then, raising my eyes, I looked toward another small set of stairs in the corner of the room. Shrouded in shadow, the flight led to the “tower” as we called it, a small alcove with an even smaller landing at the top. It was surrounded by windows, almost like a lighthouse up there, where you could see over the trees outside for miles. That was my space. When I lived here.
It still housed my mattress, a lamp, and a few clothes, just in case I ever needed it again. Not that I ever used it much anyway, even when I lived here. Damon kept me close.
I walked toward the window again, and planted myself against the wall next to the window, sliding down it until I rested on the floor. Taking my hair, I wound it around and around like a rope and twisted it up on top of my head before pulling out my hat and covering my hair again.
I let my shoulders finally fall, and I closed my eyes, safe in the knowledge that no one could see me right now.
Not that I was seen much, anyway.
But I did like to watch other people. Kind of like Kai did.
A long time ago, I watched him from a distance, part of me wanting him so much. I thought he was good.
Loyal. Beautiful.
But he could be scarier than Damon.
And my brother, Damon Torrance, had been a nightmare since the first time I met him. An exquisite nightmare.
“Pull up your sock,” my mom orders as she slams the passenger side door.
I bend over and pull up my dingy knee-high, both of us standing next to our car parked outside a big, black gate. It’s open, and cars have been streaming in steadily. Mom said there was a party going on today. It was a good time to see him.
“Remember what I told you.” She pulls me up, buttoning the top button of my cardigan and straightening my blouse underneath. I look away, impatient. I’m twelve, and she has me dressed like a five-year-old.