Brutal King (The Seven Deadly Sinacores #7)

Chapter 2

2

SOFIA

I ’m downstairs at six fifty in the morning, my three bags of clothes haphazardly packed, since I only just did it half an hour ago. My camera, of course, has been carefully stored in its case, along with film and the three bottles of chemicals I was able to sneak out of the lab.

I don’t know much about Stanford. It was never on my radar. Until last night, I’d never looked into what they offered. Luckily, they do have a photography program. Unfortunately, I am not going to be in it according to the curriculum information Luca sent me.

It pisses me off how easily he was able to get this done. When the hell did he have time to submit the request? Did he even send my transcripts? Were there letters of recommendation? Does Stanford even want me there or did Luca pay some exorbitant fee?

In the end, I decide it doesn’t matter. Maybe it’s better that I leave New York. With three thousand miles between us, my desire to throttle my own brother might eventually subside. Who knows, maybe he’s right and I’ll like it there.

After going through the stages of grief—denial that this is happening, anger that I have no control, bargaining with the Devil to help me escape, and sad when he didn’t show up— I finally accepted my fate.

Not that I had a choice since Luca had three of his men roaming the campus, waiting for me to bolt. I considered it, but changed my mind when I recognized them, if only to save face.

Last night I told Jenn what happened and consoled her when she cried for an hour. Then she helped me sneak into the lab to collect the chemicals should I not have access to them for a while.

We talked for hours about everything we wished for ourselves. We swore to keep in touch always.

God, I’m going to miss her almost as much as the dark room.

I glance upward, at the building I’ve called home for almost three years. I’ll miss this too.

“Morning.” The male voice has me turning back, only to watch a man already jogging away wearing a very familiar gray hoodie.

“Hey!” I yell. “Wait up.” But before I can chase after him, Victor pulls up in the Cadillac.

My lips draw into a hard line. I glance between my driver and the guy I’m sure is the same one that saved me from a fall yesterday. Why can’t he save me from this too?

“Hi, Victor,” I say when he steps out of the car.

“Miss Sofia. Are you ready?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Yes.”

“I do?” I ask, somewhat taken aback.

“You can sit up front with me, or in the back. You’re choice.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re a real hoot, you know that?”

“Just doing my job, miss Sofia.”

“I choose the back.”

“As you wish.” He opens the door for me and I climb into the car.

While Victor loads my luggage, I send a message to Jenn.

Me: Miss you already.

Jenn: Miss you more.

Luca: Have a safe trip.

I begin to type, telling him where he can shove his “good trip.” But I delete it before hitting send . Then I type a different message telling him I will miss him. I delete that too.

That’s the thing about Luca. I love him dearly and want to shove him off a cliff at the same time.

In the end, I opt for typing a couple of random letters without sending, that way he can see the dots and wonder what the hell I was going to send. Psychological torture is the best kind.

“Where’s everyone else,” I ask Victor when he gets into the car. “I assumed there would be a caravan.”

“The boss didn’t want to draw attention. But we will have checkpoints along the way.”

“How long will this take?”

“Just under four hours.”

“Great,” I groan. “Awesome. Love long rides.”

He grunts something unintelligible. As our driver, Victor is well aware of my aversion to trips longer than an hour. So is Luca. Makes me wonder if having me fly out of Arlington truly has anything to do with this Ferryman business, or if it’s just his own way of torturing me.

“Touché, brother. Touché.” For now.

Halfway in and I’m going mad. My ass went numb an hour ago, my legs feel cramped and I’m pretty sure I’m on my way to developing a serious case of Deep Vein Thrombosis.

Worse yet, I’ve had a lot of time to think about my predicament and the brother responsible for it. With every second that passes, the annoyance I felt at being manipulated has grown into downright anger. No, not anger. Rage.

For a while, I tried to distract myself to keep from feeling the resentment building— counted houses, Jeeps and mindlessly scrolled through social media. But I could only do it for so long before my mind came back to the same thing. Plotting revenge against Luca.

I gave into it, letting the devious thoughts take over my brain. Images of gum in his hair forcing him to chop it all off. Or maybe dye in his toothpaste. No. Those are too childish and since I’ve already done that to him, he’ll probably be expecting it. It has to be something much worse. Hit him where it would hurt the most.

Carina.

If I did something that would put strain on their relationship. Something that made her suspicious…

Oh my God, Sofe, what the hell are you thinking!?

I’m horrified once again at the route my thoughts are taking me in. I’d never do such a thing, and yet by his own actions, Luca is turning me into a monster.

What I need is fresh air. To get out of this damned moving cage.

“Victor, can you stop somewhere? I have to pee.” I touch my throat and grimace, my mouth suddenly dry. “And I’m parched.”

“I’d like to get beyond Connecticut before we stop.”

“Beyond it? How much longer?”

“An hour.”

“I… I can’t.” I wrap my fingers around the door handle, considering actually pulling the thing and jumping out. “Pull to the side of the road. I’ll pee behind a bush if I have to.”

He sighs. “Wait a few minutes. We’re coming into Middletown.”

A few minutes later, we’re turning into a corner gas station. Victor parks the car in front of the door to the convenience store, but scans the area before shutting off the engine.

I look too.

There’s a bus stop with a crowd of about ten people waiting— some older folks, a couple of women and some kids. A man watching the dollar amount go higher and higher is getting gas at the farthest pump. And there are a few working men covered in paint heading into the store. None of them are criminals that I can tell.

“Seems safe,” I comment.

Victor does his normal grunt. “Let’s go.”

We step out of the car. He walks in front of me to hold the door open and allows me to enter the shop. Then he proceeds to follow me to the register.

“Where are your restrooms?” I ask the lady behind the counter.

“Over there, down that hall.” She points to the back of the store, to a spot between the drink fridges.

“Thanks.” I make to go that way, when I realize Victor is still at my heel. I stop. “Seriously?”

“What?”

“I have to use the bathroom. Please don’t hover.”

“I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

“Then watch me from here. I have to come out this way.” When he doesn’t immediately relent, I add, “Please. I won’t be able to go number tw?—”

“I’ll wait here.”

I grin. “Thank you. Oh, and can you get me something to snack on? I was so upset this morning I didn’t eat.”

His jaw tightens but he nods.

It’s not true that I have to go, but the space this affords me is worth hiding out in the bathroom for a few minutes.

Just as the lady said, the bathrooms are located down a short passage. As I’m about to enter, I notice a swinging door at the other end. An employee pushes through it with a cart full of soft drinks and nods a greeting at me as he passes by. But I’m too busy peering through the opening he’s left to reply.

As the door swings open and closed, it allows for brief intervals of light to filter into the hall. Not just any light. Sunlight. That means there’s another door in that backroom that leads to the outside.

My mind shooting into overdrive, I go into the bathroom. I stare in the mirror without actually looking at myself. All I can see is the plan taking shape in my head.

Hit him where it will hurt the most. Make him see. Carina isn’t his only vulnerable spot. I have to make him see!

With a plan fully formed, if somewhat hastily, I grab my phone from my purse. This is what he’s using to track me, I’m sure of it.

“Well, not this time, buddy.” I toss it into the garbage. “Try tracking me now.”

As quietly as possible, I sneak out and peer into the store through the convex mirror hanging in a corner of the ceiling. Victor is still searching for a snack. If I’m going to do this, it’s got to be now.

I bolt, taking off at a full run toward the steel door that leads to the outside, nearly mowing down someone that steps out from between some boxes.

“Sorry!” I yell without looking back. Every second counts and I can’t afford to lose momentum. Hopefully the guy or girl is okay.

When I burst through the door and am hit with that precious sunlight that marked my path to freedom, I start to laugh like a lunatic. “I did it. I did it!”

But I’m not out of the woods yet. I glance over at the bus stop. The bus is there and the last person is climbing in.

“Wait for me!” I call out, running toward it as fast as my legs will go. If I’m going to succeed, I have to get inside without Victor catching me in the act. “Wait!”

I’m breathing heavily, barely able to speak as I reach the doors and climb the two steps to the driver. “Hi. I… I, uh, need a ticket.”

He points to the farebox. “Dollar seventy-five.”

I take out my wallet from my bag. Thank God I went shopping yesterday. I pulled cash out thinking it would keep Luca from finding out exactly where I would be at. While that was a big fail, it did put me in a better spot today.

“Here you go.” I pay, and even add extra cash in his tip jar.

I’m seated by myself all the way in the back as we take off. I smile slyly, staring at Victor’s Cadillac still parked. I got away with it. Now all I have to do is figure out exactly where I’m going.

I could go to Boston. Stay with my friend Marley. She didn’t exactly pass the vetting process, but we got along well until she moved away. We’ve kept in touch enough that I would feel comfortable crashing at her place. It’s not that far from here.

But it’s where I was supposed to be heading in the first place, so it’s possible Luca already has a search party waiting for me there.

Then again, that might be the last place he’d think to find me.

After the bus made its last stop, I walked a mile to the only bar still open at this hour. It’s not exactly a five-star joint, but certainly better than being out there. Besides, it gave me a place to think.

I poke at the soggy french fries on my plate, moving the yellow strings from side to side, wishing they were edible because I’m starving.

“Something wrong?” the guy behind the bar asks.

“I’m not that hungry,” I lie.

It’s not his fault I ordered a full meal in the middle of the night, well after most patrons are interested only in booze. Nope, that’s all on me.

God, what have I done?

Now that I’ve had more than a few hours to think about it, the reality of my situation sinking in, I’m starting to wonder if this was a mistake.

Actually, I know it was a mistake. The question is, how big?

I’m fucking exhausted, cold, and broke, but my pride has prevented me from calling for help.

Tugging my Columbia hoodie higher over my neck, wishing it were warmer, I glance to the man sitting on the other side of the bar. Not only do I wish my sweater were warmer, but nicer too.

He’s so good-looking, dressed like he’s about to shoot a cover for GQ . Older than me, maybe in his thirties, he has a little silver in his dark wavy hair, broad shoulders beneath his perfectly tailored suit and nice big hands.

He looks my way, and I grimace inwardly when his blue-gray eyes take me in. Out of all the places I could encounter a man like him, it’s in this shithole.

“Stay put,” he says into the cellphone he’s holding. “Something tells me they won’t stay down.”

He hangs up and smiles at me. I clear my throat and return my attention to my plate.

The bartender goes to stand in front of him. “Refill, boss?”

“Please.” His voice is deep and warm. Masculine.

From the corner of my eye, I watch as the bartender pours him a glass of whiskey, then comes back to me. “How are you doing with that sandwich?”

“I’m done. Thank you,” I say, pushing it toward him. “Can I borrow your phone to call a cab?”

“Of course. But I’m not sure you’ll get one out at this hour. They usually stop coming around midnight.”

“Shit.”

“Where are you heading?” the man with the sinful voice asks.

I turn to him. Handsome he might be, but I’m not going to tell him I need a place for the night. I highly doubt I’d be allowed to sleep here.

“I’m meeting a friend,” I reply.

The employee places my tab in front of me, and I take it.

I tug my bag onto the counter and begin to riffle through it. Almost immediately, my search becomes frantic. “Shit. Shit. Shit!”

“What’s the matter?” GQ asks.

“I can’t find my wallet.” I practically dump the contents of the bag onto the bar—a change of clothes, white sneakers, and toiletries. “Oh my God. This can’t be happening. I must have left it on the bus.”

“Seriously?” The bartender comes around to our side and grabs me roughly by the arm. “You’ve made a huge mistake if you think you’re going to stiff me.”

“Let me go!” I screech, trying to pull out of his painful grasp.

“Get your fucking hands off her!” GQ is suddenly there, seizing the bartender by the back of the neck and throwing him against the wall.

He falls, bringing with him several small frames, glass shattering all around him. Before he can recover, GQ wraps a hand around his throat and lifts him to his feet as if he weighs nothing. “You don’t touch a lady like that. That’s a huge mistake. Got me?”

“Yeah, yeah, boss.”

He drops him, then tugs out his leather wallet and tosses him enough cash to cover both our bills. “Keep the change.”

“Hey, wait!” I call when he makes to leave. Quickly, I gather my things, shoving everything back into my bag. “Wait for me.”

“You shouldn’t be out here alone at this hour,” he scolds me in a way that makes me feel like a child and I bristle. But I still follow behind him as he steps out into the cool air. “When is your friend meeting you?”

“I lied,” I admit. “I’m not meeting anyone.”

“I figured.”

I shove a chunk of my messy hair behind my ear. “Thanks for what you did.”

“You’re welcome.” He continues to his car with me at his heels.

“Wait up. This is your car?” I gaze at the black-on-black Bentley. “What the hell are you doing with this car out here?”

“The same thing I’d be doing with it anywhere else. Going places. Now, if you’ll excuse me?—”

“You can’t leave me here!” I say, aware he’s a stranger but I certainly feel safer with him than the other guy.

He sighs. “Where are you heading? No lies this time.”

“Boston,” I reply, my mind made up. I could hang for a few days, give Luca a good scare that will hopefully make him realize he can’t do whatever the hell he wants with me.

“I’m not taking you to Boston.”

“Then a hotel on your way to wherever you’re going.” I chew on my lower lip anxiously. “Please.”

“You have no money,” he states.

“I’ll think of something by the time we get there.”

He gives me a long, pained look. “Hop in. I know someone with a room. You’ll be safe there.”

I smile widely as he opens the door for me. Not only am I going to ride in luxury, but I’ll have a beautiful man to stare at the whole way.

Getting in, I place my bag at my feet. He comes around to the driver’s side and slides into the seat.

“Thank you,” I say when he starts the car.

“Are you a student at Columbia?” He points to the name on my hoodie.

“Used to be, I guess.” Before Luca tore me out of there. “I’m Sofia, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Sofia,” he says, granting me another swoon worthy smile. “Gideon Black.”

Fuck, even his name is sexy.

“Thank you again,” I say. “You won’t regret it. I’ll find a way to repay you, I promise.”

Grinning as he pulls out of the parking lot, he says, “I’m sure you will.”

I settle back in my seat. “What were you doing in a dive bar dressed like that? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Don’t mind at all. I had some business that went longer than expected. Needed a bite, and this was the only thing open.”

“What do you do?”

“I do many things,” he says in a way that sends a rush of heat to my cheeks.

Clearing my throat, I ask, “Like?”

“Corporate real estate and finance. I take over businesses.”

“Why? Because they’re failing?”

“Because I want them.” His lips pull upward in an amused sort of way that does both very good and very bad things to my insides.

“Because you want them,” I repeat. “Do you generally take over things just because you want them?”

“What other reason would there be?”

“Well…” I can’t think of one. “I guess if you have the money.”

“There’s more to it than money. There’s will. Desire. Obsession. Those are all the things that drive me to get what I want at any cost.”

“Nothing too expensive, huh?”

“Never.”

I can see his point. What I’ve wanted out of life has taken more than money to achieve. “I get it.”

“So, what’s your major?”

“My major? Oh. At school. I…” I’m about say I major in political science, but what comes out instead is, “Photojournalism.”

He cocks his head as if he wasn’t expecting that. “You want to be a journalist?”

“Photographer, actually. I want to capture stories visually. I want to show that there’s more than what the human eye can see. Angles and shadows and lines. There’s so much more to everything. People especially.”

“How so?”

I shrug. “It’s hard to say. It’s like, the shot is so instant, so precise, it can see past the shell of a person. There are micro expressions that we don’t perceive when someone is active, but the camera captures it. And the eyes… Don’t get me started on the eyes. You can learn a lot about people through photos.”

“You’re passionate about it.” He grins and I realize that I’ve actually pulled away from the seat in my excitement to discuss this with someone.

“Yeah. I am.”

“Color or black and white?”

“Black and white, of course.” I tilt my head. “Do you like photography?”

He chuckles. “Not as much as you, it seems. But maybe it’s that I haven’t been shown by the right person.”

There’s something hidden between the lines, or it could be the low timbre of his voice as he says it. But it’s there and I pick up on it instantly.

I bite my lower lip in an attempt to keep my smile from giving away the fact that he’s not just giving me butterflies, but straight up birds. “Maybe someday the right person will show you.”

“Maybe she will.” He turns slightly to me, his sterling eyes glittering in the low light emanating from the dashboard. “Why don’t you have your camera out now? You never know, tonight could turn into one hell of a story.”

“I left it behind.” I don’t tell him it’s already been one hell of a story. Actually, it’s more like a shit show. I definitely don’t want to document that.

“Hmm. So, you’re a student photographer with no camera, no money, and a questionable destination. Did you run away from home?”

A burst of laughter erupts from me. “I’m too old to be a runaway.”

“Doesn’t mean you’re not running from something.”

I study his strong profile and confident demeanor. He’s dressed impeccably and definitely rich, yet able to handle a man without breaking a sweat. So far, he hasn’t murdered me. I’m guessing I can trust him with more than my name.

“My brother,” I say. “He’s an overbearing oaf.”

“How so?”

“He’s transferring me to Stanford against my will. Refuses to listen to what I want. I’m just trying to teach him a lesson.”

“Ah,” he says in understanding. “The older brother being a parent thing.”

“Exactly. You must have one too.”

“Actually, I’m the older one.”

“Oh. Yikes.” I make a face of mock dismay. “Are you as awful as mine?”

“Worse. In fact, I’ve been described as brutal.”

“In that case, I’m glad I’m not your sister.”

“Agreed.” He chuckles as he makes a right onto a residential street. He slows and pulls into a spot in front of a pretty two story house.

“Don’t get me wrong. I love Luca. Deep down, I know everything he does is to protect me. It’s just that at times all this protecting makes me feel like a caged bird.”

“And the little bird wants to fly.”

I nod and turn to look at the house we’re parked in front of.

“Is this it?” I take in the cozy place with the inviting porch.

“Not exactly. But I needed to pull over a moment.”

“What fo…” I trail off as, through the ghostly reflection cast on the window, I spy Gideon’s eyes locked on me. Only, they’re not the same as before. It takes me a mere second to recognize the predatory gleam in them. But it’s too late.

I spin toward Gideon, a scream lodged in my throat. Then it all goes black.