Chapter 32 #2
“Your father gave it to me.” His volume lowered like he was about to share a secret. “After he murdered my brother. Your father shot him in the back like a coward while Sebas was—”
“About to kill a child.”
Marcus’s face turned a dangerous shade of red.
“Sebastián was about to execute a little girl. My father stopped him.”
“Is that what he told you?” Henry’s mask of civility cracked, revealing something raw and ugly beneath.
“You have no idea what kind of a man your father is. He’s cruel and hateful, willing to harm anyone or anything for power and money.
Your father is an evil man.” Henry watched her, waiting for a reaction.
If he thought she was going to flinch or drop her jaw in horror, he would be disappointed.
“I know my father.” She kept the words even and steady. “He’s not perfect, but he’s not evil or cruel or hateful. He’s lived his life defending the innocent.”
“You’re deceived.”
“Did you think you could turn me against him?” She shook her head. “I’m not twelve years old, Marcus. I’m not some impressionable kid you can manipulate with a tragic lie. I’m not you.”
His hand shot out, so fast she’d barely seen it move before it connected. The slap caught her across the cheek, snapping her head sideways. She stumbled away, colliding with the guard, who caught her and shoved her back toward Henry.
She steadied herself and pressed a cool palm to her cheek. “More proof you’ll never measure up to a man like my father.”
“You know nothing.” Warning hummed on the words. “Sebastián was my brother. My family. He and Rafael and Claudia were the only family that ever mattered.”
“They kidnapped you.”
“They saved me.”
“They held you hostage for months.”
“They protected me.”
“From your parents? They paid the ransom, Marcus. Your mom and dad paid it immediately, but Rafael kept you anyway, feeding you poison day after day. And you lapped it up like the family dog.”
“Enough.” The word cracked like a whip.
She should stop. She knew she should stop.
This man held her life in his hands. But the truth hummed inside her, buzzing to get out.
Maybe she wanted to hurt him. Or maybe it was the Holy Spirit, but she couldn’t hold the words in if she wanted to.
“Your parents paid every penny. And then they waited and waited, terrified they’d never know what really happened to you.
Terrified, not knowing if you were alive or dead.
And when you finally came home, what did you do?
Were you grateful to them? Or did you resent them? ”
The man’s eyes narrowed, an involuntary reaction to the ugly truth.
“And then you did it to them again. You didn’t even have the decency to fake your death. They still don’t know what happened to you.”
“They never loved me.”
“They’re still looking for you. They’ve spent every penny they have searching for you. But you’re so deceived. Classic Stockholm—”
The second slap sent her sprawling. She crashed into the wall.
Henry stood over her, breathing hard. The composed businessman was gone now, replaced by someone cracked and dangerous.
“Your Jaz is dead. Shot in the head and dumped in the sea.”
No. She squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t believe it. She couldn’t.
“Cortez.” Henry’s voice was cold. “Take her below. Lock her in the cabin we prepared.”
The guard seized her arms and hauled her upright. This was the one who’d stuck so close on the dinghy, the one with the vice-like grip. He dragged her toward a staircase that led deeper into the yacht’s belly. Kenzie didn’t fight him. There was no point.
Cortez manhandled her down the stairs, then to the far end of a hallway. He stopped at a closed door, reached past her to open it, and pushed her inside.
The space was tiny, nothing but a narrow bunk and a small table below a single porthole. Crew’s quarters. Which wasn’t a problem for Kenzie. She felt right at home.
The door slammed, and the lock engaged with a click.
She sat on the bunk, hand pressed to her burning cheek, reeling.
Jaz was dead?
It was exactly what she’d feared. Henry had known, had been looking for her and Jaz since they left St. Barts. Maybe those had been his men on Jaz’s island, not Magras’s. Jaz had gone to meet a man to take him to Henry’s yacht. Except Henry’s yacht wasn’t here.
Which meant Jaz had walked into a trap. But had he escaped?
She didn’t know what to believe. She only knew that she was the captive of a man who’d do anything to achieve his horrible plans. A man who’d gotten away with every lie he’d told.
She shouldn’t have provoked him. Her fate was in his hands, and she’d made herself more of an enemy than she’d already been.
She’d survived, though. Unlike Jaz…
Don’t think about that. It’s not true.
She wouldn’t believe it until she heard it from someone she could trust.
Her adrenaline was fading, leaving exhaustion and fear in its wake.
She didn’t know what would happen next. But Marcus didn’t control her fate.
She closed her eyes and let the truth wash over her, even as the engines carried her farther from safety and rescue.
Lord, I don’t know where they’re taking me. I don’t know if Jaz is alive or dead or if Dad knows I’ve been taken. But You know. You see me in this tiny room, and You haven’t abandoned me.
She thought of her father, of the guilt he carried, believing it was his fault that she’d been targeted. No matter what happens, help him hang onto You.
She thought of Jaz and the last thing he’d said to her before everything went wrong.
“See you soon.”
Lord, please let it be true. Let those not be his last words to me.
Dad would come. Jaz would come. Assuming they knew she was missing. Assuming they were alive.
But they’d have to find her before they could rescue her, and how would they?
Kenzie couldn’t just sit there and do nothing. There had to be a way to signal them. She had to do something to help them reach her.
She stood and gazed around the small berth. Guide me, Father. Show me the way.