Chapter 17
SABLE
I sat in the back of the car trying to keep from panicking. After telling me I'd never see Forrest again, my father added some clarification.
"You have two choices," he'd said. "You can do as I tell you, or I'll have Forrest Cross killed, and Leif Larsen." When I thought he was done, he added, "And Woody Taylor-Francis."
He cocked his head at me. "You think I don't keep tabs on you? I know exactly what you were doing and who you were doing it with. If you care about them, you'll do as I tell you."
"You wouldn't," I whispered.
Except that he would. I knew him well enough to know when he was bluffing. He wasn't bluffing now. He'd have them killed without blinking. Without regret.
"I see you understand what I'm saying," he said, smug, self-assured. He'd known all along he'd win. He held the cards. "I'm doing this for your own good."
"My own good?" I echoed. "You approved selling me to a monster. How is that for my own good?"
He clicked his tongue. "For my own good, then. You're a commodity, Sable. I thought you understood that by now." His tone was colder than a polar icecap.
"Yeah, I'd figured that one out a long time ago," I said bitterly. "That's all you see me as. Not as a person. Not even as your daughter." I shook my head. "I'm not yours to do whatever you want with." My voice got higher as I spoke, squeaking on the last word.
He picked the phone up from his desk. "Last chance.
You can go with Conrad, now, or I'll make the call.
They'll be dead before morning." He sounded like he was asking what toppings I wanted on my pizza before he placed the order.
Not even pizza sounded good right now. Not unless I could hit him in the face with it.
Better yet, choke him with it. I should have strangled him with his tie before we stepped into the office.
I glanced back at Conrad, who stood silently beside the door, another man with him.
They were physically very different, one dark, the other blonde, but their expressions were identical.
Listen without hearing. Obey without question.
Take your pay home at the end of the day, and don't lie awake at night thinking about the things you were asked to do.
I wouldn't get any help from them. I was more alone than I'd ever been in my entire life.
That thought was followed by a peal of laughter from the party, the timing mocking me and my misery. Faint strains of "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" played in the background.
Merry fucking Christmas, I thought. Christmas was weeks away, but it might as well never come, for all I cared. It wasn't going to be merry, not without my guys.
"You promise you won't touch them?" I asked.
"As long as you behave yourself, there's no reason for me to harm a hair on their heads," he said. He didn't need to say more. The minute I stepped a toenail out of line, he'd end them. For now, though, he got what he wanted.
He put his phone back down.
Tears prickled my eyes. I forced down the urge to scream. To call for my guys to come and get me. If I did, they'd be dead or I would. If I touched the gun, same thing.
He was wrong. I didn't have two choices, I had one. Go along with him. For now.
"You know where to take her." He nodded to Conrad, who opened the door and stepped outside.
The other goon jerked his head, indicating for me to walk between them. He glanced down at my legs, turned his face so my father couldn't see that he licked his lips.
My stomach turned.
I decided to try one more time.
"Daddy," I said softly.
If he ever cared about me, maybe he could think twice about what he was doing. There must be some small amount of compassion still left in him? Some hint of love from the man who raised me?
Something.
Benjamin Kohl looked back at me like I was nothing more than a prized bitch ready to be sold for breeding or fuck knows what else.
I could have been taken to a puppy farm and locked in a run for all he cared.
Whatever he was getting out of this was all that interested him. Whoever he was sending me to.
I hoped it was fucking worth it. I'd never hated anyone the way I hated him right now, not even Wolfgang, not even the senator. Neither of them pretended to give a shit about me. He had, but he didn't now.
"Goodbye, Sable."
I dropped my gaze to the floor and followed Conrad out into the darkness.
Woody was out here somewhere. Would he see me leaving? Would he try to stop them from taking me? I wanted to call out for him to stay back. Stay away. Stay alive.
If he didn't, he'd be dead anyway. If he killed Conrad and the other goon, my father would send people after all three of them. Not for revenge, but for taking away people who he'd trained to be as cold and robotic as him, his property.
I straightened my back. I had to pretend I wanted to go. Let him believe I'd played them. I could live with them never forgiving me. If they hated me, that was okay, as long as I knew they were alive. They could forget me. Go back to New York and pretend I never existed.
The goons led me over to a waiting car. Dark with tinted windows. The kind that said 'I'm up to something.' Steam rose off the engine, and it seemed warm, like they'd only just arrived. Presumably called by my father the minute I turned up at the party. All part of the plan.
I forced myself not to look around to see where Woody's car was parked. I had to appear to have no regrets. That I wasn't giving any of the guys a second thought.
"Don't worry, we already took care of it," the second goon said, grinning while holding up something that looked like it came out of a car engine. I didn't know anything about cars, but I suspected that was needed in order for it to start. They were making sure Woody couldn't follow.
I nodded. I supposed that was a good thing. It didn't mean they wouldn't appropriate another car if they wanted to follow, but would slow them down for a while.
"Get in." The second goon opened the back door.
I'd slid into the back seat, Conrad beside me while the second goon drove.
I didn't say a word. What was there to say? Instead, I watched the darkness slide by, the occasional glint of light flickering as we passed. Houses. The people inside oblivious to what was going on fifty feet away.
We headed out of Saltgrave, back onto the highway. Back toward New York.
I closed my eyes, almost lulled to sleep by the movement of the car; the silence of everything except my heartbeat and the engine. The goon didn't put on the radio. No one sang along to anything.
I thought about humming something annoying, but decided it'd be a better idea if I stayed quiet.
That left nothing but the endless road and my thoughts as we travelled through the night. An hour. Two hours.
Houses gave way to buildings; taller, grittier, increasingly familiar.
That was the restaurant, where Forrest and I ate dinner. Harlow St. James' restaurant, another block or two away.
Was she there now with her four boyfriends? In my mind's eye, I saw them, armed with guns and knives, ready to swoop in and help at a moment's notice.
I wished they could help me, but I couldn't even ask. If I did, my men would die. I had to keep that uppermost in my mind.
Whatever happened to me, I had to keep my mouth shut. They couldn't die because of me.
I wiped a tear off my cheek, hoping these two asshole goons didn't notice. I didn't need them amused by my grief.
I needed to be as stone-cold as my father.
And my mother. Did she know about any of this?
I wanted to think she didn't, but the truth was she probably did.
For all I knew, this was her idea. A plan hatched after I called her to ask for an invitation to the party.
Punishment for not being obedient enough.
For not letting them break me. For not letting Wolfgang break me. For not letting the Senator break me.
That list made my heart want to break a little.
The guys said I was badass, that I was stronger than I knew. I didn't feel strong right now. I felt like a thread ready to snap. A pretty cashmere jumper coming apart, unraveling bit by bit.
Could I call them my men anymore? I was never going to see any of them again. They were going to think I walked away. As far as they were concerned, I wouldn't be theirs anymore.
But me? I was never going to forget, or move on. I'd always be theirs, no matter what.
"We're here," the second goon said, pulling up in front of a nondescript building I'd probably walked past a hundred times.
Not far from Forrest's penthouse, this was the kind of place no one would stop in front of to wonder what was going on inside.
The brick facade was covered with a smattering of graffiti. A few pieces of newspaper, and trash gathered around the door, blown there by the wind. Kept there because no one cared to clean it away.
Conrad climbed out and stepped around to open my door and jerk his head, indicating that I should get out too.
I wanted to tell him to fuck off, but I swung my legs, getting out carefully. I didn't need them to catch a glimpse of my panties. Or the gun.
I followed them over to the door as Conrad pulled out keys and unlocked it.
I glanced back toward the street.
No sign of my men. If they'd seen me leave and tried to follow, they were keeping out of sight.
Honestly, I hoped they hadn't followed. A place like this didn't scream 'willing to be here.' If they saw me step inside, they wouldn't be fooled. They'd come charging out of the shadows, guns and knives in hand, ready to slice, dice and shoot. Ready to gather me up and take me home.
A home that wasn't mine anymore. I assumed they'd go back to living in their separate apartments now.
Would they keep working together? They might not want to see each other again.
Too many bad memories. Bad tastes in their mouths, left there by me.
I should have stayed away from them to start with. It would have been easier for everyone.
I forced the despair aside, raised my chin and followed Conrad inside. The door clanged behind us, echoing down the concrete corridor.
Conrad flicked on a light switch and led me deeper into the building.
"What is this place?" I asked.
It smelled like cleaning products with a hint of something nasty. Sweat? Urine? Misery? I sensed lives had ended here, literally and figuratively. People were killed, and people were broken.
Be strong, I told myself. I wasn't going to let that happen to me.
"Just a stopover." It was the second goon who responded. "Don't worry, you won't be here long. You have some time to get some rest and a change of clothes. I'll have something organized for you."
His gaze swept up and down my body, leaving no doubt that if Conrad wasn't here, he'd have me on my knees in front of him. How long Conrad would be a deterrent was anyone's guess.
They led me over to another smaller door, opened it, and pushed me aside before closing and locking it behind me.