Chapter 19
NINETEEN
KANE
Jessica doesn’t stir when I brush a strand of blonde hair from her mouth.
After I dropped her off, I had shit to do with Cash, but I came back here as soon as I could. There are no signs of her siblings. Her brother is long gone. It’s just my girl, asleep in the armchair, her cheek pressed against the curve of her shoulder.
The rhythmic beeping of the heartbeat monitor and blood pressure machine creates a soothing white noise. Above, an airplane rumbles, then fades as it glides across the sky.
Crouching, I pick up the tattered paperback from the floor, which must have slipped from her fingers when she fell asleep.
Once it’s back on the nightstand, I push my hands into my pockets. The dried tear streaks on Jessica’s pale cheeks tug at some unpleasant emotion inside me.
She’s been crying. It’s a healthy response to grief, but I don’t like seeing her sad. Don’t like that she’s hurting.
My gaze slides from Jessica to her fragile Mom. She’s wafer thin, with a yellow tint to her translucent skin and dry, straw-like hair. Most of her muscle mass is gone, and what’s left is skin and bones. Death is a cruel shadow, and I hate how it robs Jessica of her smiles.
Now they’re rare. Tainted with shame, as if she commits a crime if she lets herself feel something good.
My attention drifts back to Jessica and her soft breaths. The tug in my chest returns, so I rub at the aching center, wondering what it’ll take to get hold of the reaper so I can strangle that fucker.
I slip an arm under Jessica’s knees, another around her back, and lift her onto my lap before settling into the armchair with her on my lap.
Her slow breaths fall into the dip of my throat, between my collarbones, where I’ve unbuttoned my shirt.
I bury my nose in her hair, filling my lungs with the fresh scent of my peppermint shampoo.
I like that she carries my scent now after I claimed her in the shower.
I like that she fits so perfectly in my arms. And I like that she’s still got my cum inside her.
I look around the room at her harsh reality, then shift her slightly in my arms so I can study her face. How long did she cry before she fell asleep? I should have been here to hold her. I should have been here for her.
A muted pressure builds under my ribs and spreads in a slow wave. It’s warm and aching, all at once. I can’t sit here and do nothing. I just… I can’t—
Shifting out from beneath Jessica, I place her gently back down and press a kiss to her forehead. She doesn’t stir.
The nurse looks up from her computer screen when I come thundering out of the room.
Her eyes widen, and she scrambles upright. “Mr. Ravencourt.”
“I need to speak to the doctor on duty.”
Is it just me, or is my voice thicker than usual? I rub the side of my neck and glance around the empty waiting area while the nurse makes a phone call. The artificial carnations beside me on the counter have a layer of dust, and the same goes for the ficus tree as you enter the waiting area.
I’m pushing the carnations out of the way with a less-than-impressed expression when the nurse puts the phone down and gives me a nervous smile, like they all do when a Ravencourt is in the building.
It’s as if they think I’ll get my father to buy the building on the spot only to raze it to the ground.
Tempting, given that the fucking carnations look as if they came straight out of a dollar store and were forgotten about for a decade.
I’m surprised the patients don’t have dust on them too.
“He’s on his way. Why don’t you take a seat in the meantime?”
I take one look at the chairs and decide against it. They look like they came flat-packed and were assembled by a drunk college freshman.
“That’s alright. I’ll wait here.”
She studies me uncertainly, then glances down the hallway as if she can will the doctor to hurry up.
It’s not every day she sees a founding father’s son here. I stand out like a wolf in a sheep’s paddock.
Frowning, I turn my attention to her again when I feel her watching me.
She drops her eyes to the paperwork in front of her.
It’s not the same nurse I spoke to the other week when I came by.
This one is younger, with shoulder-length red hair and full lips.
Unlike the older nurse, she’s nervous around me, but I don’t miss the way she bites her lip when she thinks I don’t notice.
“Where is the doctor?” I bark, and she startles, almost dropping her paperwork.
“I don’t know, sir. I only started my shift fifteen minutes ago.”
“Well, you have five seconds to get him for me. Chop, chop.”
She’s off in the next breath, shimmying her hips down the hallway.
I’m an ass, yes. I’m aware. Do I care? Not in the slightest.
I’m checking the time on my Rolex, debating whether this place is equipped to treat Jessica’s sick mother, when an older man with a balding head and bags under his eyes follows the flighty nurse.
The young woman seems more interested in my crotch than her job, and I almost want to point two fingers at my face and say, ‘My eyes are up here.’
But then Dr. Hitchon, according to his name tag, gives me a wary look, and I forget all about the nurse.
“Mr. Ravencourt,” he says. My last name precedes me everywhere I go. It comes in handy at times like these, cutting out the need for unnecessary introductions. He knows he owes his livelihood to my family. He knows I could squash him like a bug.
I get straight to the point, pulling out a checkbook from my back pocket and wiggling two fingers for a pen, which appears like magic. I click it. “How much do you want?”
Hitchon blinks at me, as if this were a comedy. “Excuse me, sir?”
“Mrs. Holt,” I say, by way of explanation. “How much will it cost to heal her condition?”
He opens his mouth, then shuts it. A sheen of sweat glistens on his brow. “Sir, I don’t think you understand—”
“How much?”
“Sir—” he tries again, glancing nervously at the nurse.
Is he dense?
“Who can I throw money at to heal Mrs. Holt? There must be some treatment you can offer. Something you haven’t tried yet.”
Money solves all problems. Money buys everything and everyone. That’s the philosophy my father taught me as soon as I quit diapers and learned to walk. There must be someone here I can pay to do the job.
Hitchon’s throat jumps. “I’m sorry, sir—”
I’m getting really fucking tired of this.
“I don’t care what it costs. I’ll pay it.”
He hears the grit in my voice and jerks his head to tell me to follow him.
When we’re out of earshot of the nurse, he clears his throat, a bead of sweat trailing down his temple. “Mrs. Holt’s cancer is terminal and has spread to other parts of her body. It’s too late to operate.” His words are careful, as if he fears my reaction.
My left eye twitches. I glare at the poor man, but to his credit, he holds my gaze steady, even as he sweats like we’re in a sauna together.
“No.” I shake my head, taking a step back as a bitter laugh builds at the back of my throat. Money buys everything. I refuse to accept that there’s nothing we can do.
I thread my fingers through my hair and pull tight, pacing on the spot while the doctor looks like he might just piss himself. “Try something else. Do anything.”
He says nothing, just watches me unravel.
I turn to him and ram my finger into his chest. “That girl in there, Mrs. Holt’s daughter, means the fucking world to me, and I’ll be damned if I have to watch her hurt for a second longer.”
I’m back to pacing, rubbing my mouth and clasping my hands behind my neck, doing everything short of an Irish dance.
“If you don’t fucking fix this, you can kiss your job goodbye.”
“Mr. Ravencourt, with all due respect—”
But I interrupt him, shouting, “You and everyone here! I’ll reduce this place to rubble and replace it with the world’s biggest fucking waffle house.
I hope you enjoy pouring coffee for a living.
I won’t accept dusty fucking carnations either, or whatever piece-of-shit furniture this is.
” I kick a chair as if to prove my point, breathing like a furious bull.
But that’s not all. My eyes burn, and the lump in my throat feels like I’ve swallowed a dry stone.
I’m so taken aback by the crack in my mask that I barely notice the doctor moving closer. Perhaps he realizes I’m quickly running out of juice.
“We’re doing everything we can to keep Mrs. Holt as comfortable as possible.”
My nostrils flare as I meet his steady but wary gaze.
“You want to support Mrs. Holt’s daughter?” he asks. “Be there for her.”
I watch him walk away with a final apologetic, weak smile. He stops to exchange a few brief words with the nurse, whose green, inquisitive eyes swing in my direction.
A surge of helplessness washes over me again. I kick the already broken chair, but my phone distracts me when it vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out.
It’s Dad, warning me not to ignore his phone calls again or there will be serious consequences. Bla, bla, fucking bla. Same shit. Different day.
I’m about to throw my cell at the wall when it rings in my hand. The old man won’t leave me the fuck alone, as usual.
With a quick glance at the nurse behind the desk, I answer the call.
“I’m getting really tired of you avoiding my calls.” There’s no small talk in my father’s voice. He’s cold and efficient.
Stepping over a broken chair leg, I move farther from the desk. “What do you want?”
“You have until Friday to give me an update on the missing dagger.”
“Is that all?” The words scrape from my throat, raw and brittle with anger. Maverick’s already on duty, working to recover the deleted footage. The dude is a whiz with computers.
“We have a dinner scheduled with the senator and his wife again on the thirtieth.” There’s the distinct sound of a lighter in the background. “He has invited us to spend the weekend at his cabin in the mountains this time. Think hot tub. Stunning views.”
My stomach knots. “Absolutely not.”
I swear I taste sick on the back of my tongue every time I think of that vile man and his wife.
“No?” Father asks, audibly puffing on his cigar like fucking always. “He’s expressed an interest in your sister.”
A chill knifes down my spine.
I hold the cell in a death grip. “You sick, twisted fuck.”
“I’m the sick one?” He finds that funny. “Son, I didn’t make the request.”
“But you’re considering it, aren’t you?”
The desk chair creaks in the background.
Dad’s voice comes back on the line. “The senator has eclectic tastes, as you know.” Another repulsive snicker.
“Your sister is a virgin, and he liked what he saw at the debutante ball earlier this year. But don’t worry, I’ve turned down his offer so far because we already have a nice little arrangement, don’t you think? ”
“First you threaten me with Mom, and now my baby sister?” I keep my voice low so the nurse doesn’t overhear, but I can’t keep the bite out of my tone.
“Your brother doesn’t have your spine, Kane,” he answers.
“You’re a lot like me at your age. Quick to question authority and rebel.
But you see, our position of power hinges on the support of powerful men like the senator.
You’ll eventually learn that I’ll do anything to keep us at the top, where we belong.
Even if that means I have to break you down to get there.
If you truly care about your mom and sister, and even that beautiful girl you take to bed, you’ll do as the Society says.
Follow orders, and no one gets hurt. Go against us, and learn the hard way what happens when you step out of line. ”
He’s batshit crazy.
“I don’t understand you,” I say with a snarl, my upper lip curling. “You don’t love Mom. So why the hell do you keep her under lock and key? Why don’t you let her go?”
“Don’t you get it yet? You care about her, Kane. You and your brother worship the ground that woman walks on, and that makes her your biggest weakness. Besides, I happen to like fragile porcelain that breaks easily beneath a firm touch.”
Silence falls for a beat as I gnash my teeth to dust. Then his voice takes on a darker tone. “Although I’m starting to think you have a bigger weakness now.”
My jaw clenches so hard it aches. If he touches a single hair on Jessica’s head, I’ll rip him limb from limb.
My silence speaks for itself. The old man chuckles. “I’ll forward the details to you. And keep me updated on the missing dagger.”
The call ends.
For long seconds, I stare out the window, phone pressed to my ear. Only when a soft, familiar voice says my name do I finally turn from the depressing view.
Stifling a yawn, Jessica rests her head against the door frame, a small smile thawing the ice behind my ribs.
“Hi, baby.” The words are out before I can stop them, but I don’t want to take them back. If anything, I want everyone within a ten-mile radius to know she’s mine.
Jessica smiles even bigger, drawing my gaze to the deepening dimple in her left cheek.
“Hi, babe.”