Chapter 7
I don’t think so!
Scarlett
My father’s blood trickles down the drain of my bathroom sink. Hands red and raw from harsh scrubbing with the brush, I stare into the mirror, wondering about the conversations that went on between my father and Endo that led to Endo shooting him.
I imagine Endo demanded that my father provide information he doesn’t have on a man neither my father nor Wilfred knows.
Endo’s mistaken.
He’s deranged.
Nevertheless, he means to take me away from home.
But I don’t want to go anywhere with him. Not now, when he hurt my dad, who’ll need his wound tended to.
I dry my hands and rub lotion on my skin since I’ve washed as if I were scrubbing outside the OR before going in to perform surgery.
Which would be worth it if the patient on the table was Endo.
Briefly, I wonder what it’d be like to perform brain surgery on him or at least cut him with a scalpel and watch him bleed.
Not bleed out, for sure. But just maybe a little bit. But then I’d feel bad and have to sew him up and nurse him back to health, which would defeat the purpose. I’m better off never dealing with him at all. However, I don’t have the luxury of walking away from him.
I change into clothes without bloodstains. The matching pair of beige and brown suitcases I bought for my trip catch my eye. I can hardly wait to get away from everything in August, especially now with Endo in my life.
On the nightstand, my phone rings, and I rush over to pick up Charlotte’s call.
“Hey!” she says, sounding chipper.
“Hey,” I answer, not chipper at all.
“How is the luncheon?”
“I had to cancel.”
“Oh no. Why?”
I sit on the bed, wondering how I’ll explain that the fiancé my sister suspects is fake shot our father after forbidding me from leaving the house.
“Because I’m not feeling well,” I say.
I squint my eyes shut as the pain of lying to my sister stings my heart. My chest constricts. Look, I’m a doctor, and I know damn well there’s no such thing as emotional heart pain, but I also believe in the soul and physical expression of feelings. And when I lie to my loved ones, it hurts.
“Scar, why do you keep lying to me?”
“Because I have to.”
“Is he there now?”
He is vague enough, not calling out anyone specific. “I’m in my room.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
“I’m coming over.”
“Charlotte, please stay away from here!” I slap a hand over my mouth. I shouldn’t have screamed like that.
“Now I’m definitely coming over.”
“You can’t come here.”
“You can’t tell me I can’t. It’s Dad’s house.”
“Well, I’m telling you no, so yes I can.”
“I’ll see you soon.” My sister hangs up.
“Charlotte?” I stare at the phone. Redial.
She won’t pick up.
Endo doesn’t strike me as a man who bluffs.
When he says he wants something, he wants it, and given that he’s shot my dad, he’s deadly serious about finding his brother.
Last night at the party, when he flashed me his holstered gun under his designer suit, he meant it as a threat.
He doesn’t want me to tell anyone we’re not engaged.
My father is forced to operate under Endo’s rule, as is everyone around me. Risking my sister’s life so I can feel better and have someone to confide in is unacceptable.
But Endo can’t stop Charlotte from coming, and neither can I. Which means…which means I must leave before she arrives.
I grab the new pair of suitcases I bought for my work trip and throw them on the bed.
The small one bounces and falls, and I leave it on the floor while I unzip the large one.
I go into my closet and grab some of my favorite pieces.
I fold them neatly into the suitcase, then curse myself for trying to pack well and dump the clothes with hangers into the suitcase.
I drop in my underwear, bras, socks, e-reader, and personal computer, and close the suitcase.
I don’t have time to pack the small suitcase.
I roll my one piece of luggage over the marble on the top floor.
I don’t make it to the steps before one of Endo’s people, a woman, climbs them two at a time to get to me faster.
“All set?” the brunette, her long hair slicked back into a tight ponytail, asks.
Momentarily, I’m stunned that a woman works for Endo, but then I mentally kick myself. Why wouldn’t she work for him? With those heavy-duty leather boots and guns strapped to her thighs, she looks as capable as any of his men.
She takes the suitcase, and we descend the steps together, but split up at the bottom. She heads outside to load my luggage into the SUV while I enter the room my dad rests in downstairs.
As expected, my heavily medicated father is sleeping in the cool, dark space, a soft gray blanket over him. I press my lips to his forehead and take a minute to assess his temperature by touch. His skin’s clammy but not too cold. Or too warm, for that matter.
“Bye, Daddy,” I whisper, hoping he’ll remain sedated. I’m not sure I can deal with saying goodbye to him without completely falling apart and begging him to deliver whatever Endo wants, if only so I can move on with my life without the problems Endo brought to our doorstep. Such as my “engagement.”
My heart breaks that I have to leave my injured father, but I trust Charlotte will visit and keep me updated.
I hear heels approaching his room. Charlotte lives about twenty minutes away, and there’s no way she’s already here, but I can’t think of anyone else wearing heels in the house.
Do we have another visitor? Oh no. Endo might think we’re trying to outmaneuver him by calling witnesses to the house.
He might shoot my dad again. Or Charlotte.
A knock on the door. “Mr. Pembroke,” Catherine says, “Charlotte called and said she’ll be here in a few minutes. I need to know what to tell her. Can I come in?”
I forgot Catherine was here. Damn it. I don’t want her to catch on to my plan.
I turn quickly, knocking over the vase from the nightstand. It tumbles to the floor. Thankfully, it doesn’t break, and since it was empty, I didn’t make a mess. I bend to pick up the vase just as the doorknob twists.