Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Eleanor
Dark waters run deep.
“ J ames,” Jonathan says. “Meet Grace. Isn’t she something? She’s here with Christopher, and he’s about to show her the wonders of the top floor.”
James swallows as he focuses on Jonathan. A decade might have passed, but I can still read my brother like an open book. Whatever happens on the top floor is bad.
“Do you want me to give her a tour before the main event?” James asks. His voice is neutral like he couldn’t give a rat’s ass if he gave me this tour. Oh, brother, what have they done to you?
Christopher’s hand lands on my thigh in a possessive move, and I grit my teeth as I fight the urge to break his fingers.
“Good idea. I have a little business to discuss with you,” Jonathan says over my head. “No need to bore her with our ramblings.”
I’m ninety-nine percent sure his ramblings are discussing my fate, but I simply glance at James and take another fake sip of champagne.
“Fine, but I am not feeling particularly generous,” Christopher replies. “I’ve not even begun to tire of my latest investment.”
I press my lips together. Lucky me. I’m interesting enough to not sell tonight.
“Everyone has a price,” Jonathan volleys as he slides out of the booth and offers me his hand. I go to grab my clutch, but Christopher snatches it from the seat with a grin as he wiggles it at me.
“I’ll look after this for you. If you want a drink, have them put it on my tab.”
“Thank you. That’s very kind of you,” I reply, swallowing my revulsion as I place my hand in Jonathan’s. He swipes his thumb over my knuckles as he helps me up. The bump-bump-bump against my bones makes me fight a flinch. Christopher thinks he can keep me here by holding my bag hostage. For most women, that might be enough to make them ignore the whisper of warning worming into their hearts. Me? I’m one hundred percent listening to those alarm bells, and now that I’ve been recognized, I’m on borrowed time. Exiting is the key here. The question is, is my brother about to lead me to my doom? He’s already let me go once, but that was over a decade ago.
A lot can change in that time.
I avoid eye contact with James as he hooks his arm through mine. “Where do you want to see first?” he asks loud enough for the pair of men who think they can toy with women’s lives like they are cattle.
“We didn’t really see the ground floor.”
A slight tremor runs through his body as I speak. He’s rattled, which gives me comfort he’s not about to lead me to my doom. Easy, James, we are still in plain sight. I send a silent prayer to the god I stopped believing in that I can get out of this unscathed. It’s hard to find peace and guidance in a system that robbed you of your childhood, your joy, and your mother. Logic tells me it was Jonathan’s twisted interpretation he used to control and dominate with fear and pain, not the actual religious practices of humanity, but distrust settles deep, and it takes a miracle to change the tide.
I can count on one hand the number of people I have some trust in. Uncle Steven, Gail, Fox, and Honor. But they only hold slices of my trust. You can only put your faith in one person in this life. Yourself. Everyone else has their own motivations, needs, twisted justifications, and selfish goals. I don’t think I am built to be with another person. Gail believes differently, hence the homework.
James guides me down the metal staircase toward the bar, saying nothing as the woman serving drinks nods at him.
“What are you having, boss?”
Boss? No fucking way. “Diet Coke for me, and a brandy Coke for the lady.”
She makes the drinks quickly before sliding them to us. Her gaze traces my features, and her jaw tics. She knows. She hates it, but she knows. Perhaps she’s as trapped here as the women being sold? She turns away and takes the next order. James’s shoulder bumps into mine, shielding us from the rest of the club as he swaps the identical glasses around, picking up the brandy and coke. Okay…
I grab his drink, then turn to the club to survey it more closely. I try focusing on the various exit points and analyze the most logical route out of here, but I’m too flustered with being dropped into Jonathan’s lap and seeing my brother.
“In a few minutes, I’m going to lead you clockwise around the edge of the club. The third hallway leads to an exit. Take it, grab a cab, get the fuck out of Florida, Eleanor, then fucking hide.”
My eyes flutter closed, and I inhale a sharp breath. It’s pointless to deny who I am. Something eases in my chest that still, after all this time, my brother is protecting me. Blood cannot be burned, cannot be broken. It’s written in our genetics like a sacred bond.
“He has to be stopped, James.”
“You mean this isn’t a terrible fucking coincidence?”
“No. I sought him out. I know what’s going on behind the curtain.”
He blows out a breath. “Whatever you think you know, whatever image you have of this world, you are severely underestimating it.” He shakes his head as he takes a sip of his drink. I do the same, trying to act casual. “The reach, the size, the money—it’s a juggernaut. He’s well connected and protected. Go back to your hacker life, Eleanor. Stay behind the computer and leave us the fuck alone.”
I splutter the cola, nearly staining my dress. “You know?”
“I kept track of you.”
“Does Jonathan?”
“Fuck no. He would have dragged you back by your hair if he did. You disappearing into the military was your best move. It’s like you fell off the face of the planet. Make no mistake though, you might have different hair and eyes, but it will dawn on him exactly who you are if you stay this close. You have too many tells, and that man makes an art out of reading people.”
We fall into stiff silence as the patrons of the club go about their evening around us, many not knowing their fate.
“It’s time,” he says as he starts strolling around the edge of the room. I let him guide me as if I’m a clueless woman being presented for the masses. He moves around the room like it’s his domain, making me wonder how many times he’s done this. How often has he been complicit in the evil that stalks these women? Men with lecherous eyes skim over my body. I rarely feel self-conscious, but knowing they want to take away my hard-fought freedom makes me nervous. We deposit our glasses on a table as we reach the hallway directly below the second level, out of view from Christopher and Jonathan. James puts pressure on my shoulder and quickens his pace down the dark passageway. The door at the end leads to the outside world, to my freedom. But I’m no closer to taking out Jonathan than I was yesterday. I am, for the first time since my escape, closer to my remaining family than I have ever been. My steps falter.
“What are you doing?” James grits out.
I spin to face him. “Come with me.”
He shakes his head. “I’m in too deep.”
I swallow the rising emotion tightening my throat. “Please, James.”
He pushes me up against the wall, slamming my head against the hard surface and making me wince. He wraps a hand around my throat and leans into my ear. “There is no out for me. I have done things, been a participant, a conspirator, a murderer, a rapist, a kidnapper, a trafficker. I am going to hell, Eleanor. The last good deed I did was getting you out. Don’t let my and our mother’s sacrifice be in vain. You are free. Or at least, you were.”
The back of my throat aches as I replay our mother in startling clarity spit venom at Jonathan to buy me time, to buy me my life, to buy me my freedom.
“What do you mean?”
He steps back and rubs the heel of his hand against his forehead. “How did you meet Christopher?”
“He was in the bar across the street. I dressed and acted like the type of woman he’s attracted to.”
“You baited a monster? On purpose? That was a fucking stupid decision. I thought you had genius level IQ.”
“I can’t get close enough sitting on the sidelines behind my computer. Tell me where you are based. The current compound location. Where they are taking the trafficked people. Give me something, James.”
He jerks his head away and stares into my eyes, my muscles locking in fear. I was wrong. He has changed. There’s no love, no affection, no protection lurking beneath the icy depths. My brother is cold.
“No.”
“James—”
“No,” he snarls as he lashes out. I close my eyes and flinch, but his fingers only whisper over my cheek. The soft caress is a thousand times more heartbreaking than any violence. “I will not give you information that leads you to your death. I will not give you the whereabouts of an organization that makes people disappear. You got backup? Off the books? Because the second you involve the authorities—any authorities—you will forfeit your life. Drop this vendetta. Live your fucking fancy life. Save domestic abuse victims and guide rich companies to better cyber security.” I blink. How closely has he been watching me? How does he know everything I am doing?
“Everything is a testing ground, all working up to this point. He needs to be destroyed, James. How can you protect and defend the man who murdered our mother in cold blood?” James’s eyes flutter closed and his throat bobs. “He is responsible for countless kidnappings, endless suffering, and more murders than either of us can comprehend. I will not stop because things get a little dicey.”
His fist slams into the wall next to me, making me flinch. “You know all of this and yet you still target someone near the top? Someone with unfathomable power and influence?” He snaps his fingers in my face, his face contorted in anger in the low light. “Christopher will snuff out your life and eat blueberry pancakes while your blood is still steaming, and that’s if you are lucky enough to survive his particular brand of pleasure.”
“I’m aware.”
“He’s a sadist, Eleanor.”
“I said I’m fucking aware.”
“Dangerous, sick, focused, and fucking rich enough to have unlimited resources.”
“I wasn’t planning a wedding,” I snap. Does he think I’m stupid?
“If you are lucky, he will count your departure as an inevitable loss and not pursue you. But I’ve known him for years. If you run, you become prey, and this man enjoys the hunt. The more difficult the chase, the harder he pushes. I will try to distract him with others.”
My stomach clenches and bile burns my throat. “You mean other women?”
“I do.”
“That’s—” My throat closes, black spots blurring my vision. “No. I’m not okay with that.”
James reaches out and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear, his gaze landing on the indents there. “You can’t save everyone. I’m giving you a head start. Don’t go home; don’t go to any of your usual haunts. Disappear, Eleanor, and stay that way for at least a few months. Monitor his movements like the ghost you are. If you find him frequenting Chicago, Denver, or Portland, don’t risk it.”
He listed the three places I keep properties and hinted he knows my very well-kept secret identity. “You really knew where I was?”
His eyes close briefly as a pair of giggling women saunter toward us. They cast an assessing gaze over my brother before falling through the door to the restroom. He’s filled out, becoming a powerful man in his own right, rising to be the predator Jonathan groomed him to be. The question is—is he trapped, or here willingly? I think my last shred of hope for humanity would shrivel and die if James participated in this sick world because he desires it.
“Is there anything in your bag that could identify you?”
“My phone if their hackers are good enough, but I’ll have it wiped within an hour. I can create a false trail to lead them elsewhere.”
“Do it. Whatever means you have for tracking someone, assume Christopher has the same, and behave accordingly. Now, you have to go. They will come looking.”
“But—”
He presses a number into the keypad to disarm the alarm, then throws the door open and pushes on my chest, shoving me outside. I stumble into the alley and spin to face my brother.
“Hide, Eleanor. I need you to fucking live, or what’s left of my black heart will disappear.”
He slams the door, sealing me out of his life once more, and I’m not any closer to destroying Jonathan. Instead, I’ve incited a monster to hunt me. I clutch my hair and pace in a circle. Stupid, Ellie. So fucking stupid.
Arms band around me, and a hand lands over my mouth. I clutch my fist with my opposite hand and hammer my elbow back into my attacker’s stomach. He huffs but doesn’t loosen his grip. I drop my entire weight and prepare to land on my tailbone, but he chuckles and clutches me tighter. I know that laugh. A rich masculine scent washes over me, making my brain a little fuzzy. His lips skim my ear, goosebumps cascading down my arms.
“I thought I was going to have to storm the castle. Lucky me, the princess fell right into my arms. Now, what chaos have you gotten yourself into, Ghost?”
Fuck men. Specifically, this man.
Vice-president of the Desert Reapers in Texas.
The man who tried coaxing me into his bed and failed.
Hunter King.
He’s found me, but a bigger monster is on my trail.