CHAPTER TWELVE #3
But the thing is I found a way, see. To get out from under my father’s thumb.
I found leverage. When I did the snooping, I couldn’t find anything else on the Graysons, but I did find something on my own father.
And now I’m going to use it to get my freedom.
I’m going to move on with my life, away from my father, from this town, from the Grayson–Turner rivalry.
This is another reason why our connection doesn’t matter.
I’m going away, leaving everything behind.
“I mean, you already know that, but…” When all he does is stare at me, I continue. “I wanted to give you something before I left.”
Then, under his thick scrutiny, I walk toward him.
It’s hard. My knees are trembling and my belly is heavy.
And the fact that with every step I take toward him, he somehow grows larger and more intense, is not helping.
When I reach him, his scent of leather and spices is the first thing to hit me, followed by his heat.
And then comes the thought that the last time we were alone, he not only made me put a knife through his ribs, but he also ordered me to ride his wounded stomach until I came.
My cheeks are on fire; my entire body is on fire, but I ignore everything.
With shaking hands, I root around in the pocket of my dress and slide out a piece of paper.
I hold it toward him, but instead of taking it from me, his eyes turn even more piercing, his jaw tight.
“It’s, uh, the code. To the front gate of my ranch. ”
He goes still at that, probably surprised, and I don’t blame him.
I’m sure this was unexpected to him. But I have to get this out before I lose my nerve.
“Ever since the attack on my dad when Arsen tried to… He’s become really paranoid.
He has personal bodyguards. He doesn’t go anywhere without them.
He also has codes for everything, the gate, the front door, his room.
I wrote it all down. Now that Arsen’s out, I know he’s going to keep changing them every few days.
He used to do that, years ago. So these will probably be good for only a few days, but I…
I got someone, one of our old maids who still works for us, to give them to me.
Well, I kinda used your phone. To contact her.
But I promise it was only for that, and…
She won’t say anything either; she always liked my mom and me.
I also wrote down his schedule. Because of his condition, he has to follow a strict regimen.
He was weekly appointments with doctors, speech therapists, and other scheduled stuff. ”
Arsen didn’t kill Hank Turner, but he came pretty damn close.
My father had to spend months at the hospital after Arsen beat him up, and since then, he’s been in a wheelchair, unable to walk or talk; Arsen tried to strangle him to death.
Not that it has affected his ability to be evil, and he’s more untouchable now than before. If you don’t know his routine, that is.
“It has everything you need, all the details. I-I tried to be as thorough as I could.” When he still doesn’t go for the paper, I lower my hand and explain, “I’m giving this to you because I remember what you said that night. About justice and vengeance, and my father, he’s… What are you doing?”
I realize the question was unnecessary because I already know what he’s doing.
He’s advancing toward me. But it happened so abruptly, and there’s a strange purpose in his steps, so I don’t really know what he’s doing.
Not that he answers me. He simply keeps coming, his face so intense and focused that I have no choice but to move back, the piece of paper slipping through my fingers.
And I keep moving back to make space for him. All of a sudden, I bump into something—a wall, I think—and my loud gasp echoes around the room. He stops a few feet away and I grab the wall with both hands for support.
“What are you doing?” I ask again, my voice a lot shakier than I’d like it to be.
He stares at me for a few seconds, running his eyes down my body as if appraising me for something, before looking up and saying, in a soft voice, “Don’t move.”
“What?”
Before I can take another breath, something comes flying at me. A streak of silver, glinting and sharp, that lodges itself into the wall. Just by my face. I’m frozen, my limbs cold and nerves strung tight. But my eyes move to the side and I see a knife. Stuck only a few inches away from my face.
He threw a knife at me.
Slowly, I look back at him. “Y-you… Did you just…”
He shifts on his feet, and for the first time I realize he’s barefoot.
His toes are peeking out under the hem of his jeans, looking so innocent and vulnerable.
And for a few crazy moments, I can’t look away from them.
I can’t decide if this is real. If he really threw a knife at me when his toes are bare and looking so…
harmless. I know I have lost my mind when another knife comes sailing through the air and sticks itself into the wooden wall somewhere by my shoulder.
This one’s so close I can almost feel the cool steel on my skin.
I close my eyes before opening them and asking, “What… are you doing?”
“Tryna decide if you really came here to tell me to kill your daddy.” He has another knife ready to go in his hand. He flicks it between his fingers as he continues, “’Cause if so, my problem ain’t him tonight. It’s you.”