52. Daphne
52
I did not think this trip would need a Bingo card for “Things That Might Go Wrong.”
My father confessing to aiding and abetting a murder? Check.
Getting informed that I’m now the family prostitute? Check.
Having my baby sold off to the worst ex-in-laws ever? Check.
Disgraced former senator threatening to rape and slaughter me? Check.
Add the Free Space and/or Conrad’s zombie crashing through a window and we’ve got ourselves a Bingo.
Since Lev is nowhere to be found, I’ve only got one option left if I’m going to get the hell out of here: mashing the absolute shit out of my bracelet’s panic button.
Except Brennan sees me doing it. He seems to know what it is, too, because he grabs the bracelet by the chain and rips it off my wrist in one painful yank.
The next thing I know, his free hand shoves inside my pockets and rummages around without any hesitation. He even takes the time to rub me lewdly through my own clothing while he does it, most especially when he checks my back pockets.
“On second thought, my dear…” He licks his cracked lips. “I think you and I should spend a lot of quality time together. Don’t you?”
“She may be a whore, Scott, but we still have standards.” Stewart glares at him, but doesn’t do a damn thing to help me. “I’m gonna ask you to remove your hands from my daughter.”
“You don’t get to ask shit, Hamish. We’re in this mess because of you.”
He finds what he’s looking for: my phone. And when he does, he plucks it out of my pocket and waves it at them mockingly, showing that the call is active. “See? Unlike you, she’s smart. Too smart.”
He throws my phone on the ground and smashes it with his heel.
Shit. There goes that escape route.
“If you had half the brain she does, you would’ve patted her down before running your fucking mouths.”
“But she’s our daughter!” Ophelia stomps her foot, like that will actually do anything. “She’s family!”
“You say that as if it means something!” Brennan laughs and waves his gun at them. “You know what does mean something? Chekhov! She’s not your daughter anymore, you brainless assholes! She’s his wife!”
That shuts them up.
“But why am I surprised? You’re probably the biggest idiots I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting.” Brennan points his gun at Stewart, more conversationally than threateningly. “I mean, come on. You honestly thought you could blackmail a senator and get away with it?”
To be fair, that does sound like something Stewart Hamish would do.
“You know what your worst flaw is?” The former senator shoves his gun under my former father’s chin, forcing him to tilt his head up. “You play your hand way too early. The key to blackmail, you dumbass piece of shit, is to hold onto it as long as fucking possible. But you? You just have to make sure you always feel powerful. It gets you off, doesn’t it? That’s the only reasonable explanation as to why you would do something so mind-blowingly, stupid like telling my wife about my hobbies.”
“I… I…”
“You? You? You what, Stew? You ruined my life! You hear me?” He presses the gun to his temple now, making my father flinch. “You ruined my fucking life! I’ve lost everything! I’ve lost my job, my reputation, my home, my wife?—”
“We can talk to her!” Ophelia pleads. “I’ll talk with her, I swear?—”
Brennan snorts. “You got one of those Ouija boards? She’s dead, you dumb bitch. Talk to her all you want. She’ll tell you all about how I made her beg me for mercy while I enjoyed her one last time. Repayment for the hell she put me through.”
Oh my God. He’s sick.
They’re all sick.
They’re sick in the heads and I’m in way over my own.
Come on, Lev! Pasha! Anyone!
“So, here’s how this is going to go.” Brennan grabs my arm and keeps the gun right next to my ear. “You, Stewart? I’m gonna shoot you in the dick. It’s gonna hurt like hell, and you will bleed out and die, but it will be slow. Unlike you, I know how to enjoy a long wait when it gives me the upper hand.” He shrugs. “Plus, it’ll confuse the cops long enough to keep them busy while I make my getaway.”
He turns to Ophelia. “You? You’re a bit old for my tastes, but you’ve got a pretty decent mouth. If you want any chance of living through this, you’re gonna convince me not to kill you with just how well you can put it to work. Bite me, and I blast your brains out. Understood?”
Ophelia pales.
“And you, my sweet morsel…” He sniffs my hair and groans with sick pleasure. “I’m going to enjoy you. Once your mother is done begging for her life, I’m gonna fuck you right in front of both of them. Make it a true family occasion, am I right?”
I swallow back the bile seeping up my throat. “Pasha is going to kill you. Slowly.”
Brennan chuckles. “You think so? I don’t. Because unlike the idiots who spawned you, I know how to play the long game. As long as I keep you with me, and I keep you alive, he won’t make any stupid moves. He’ll do whatever it takes to make sure I don’t kill you. And you’re gonna do the same, understood? Do whatever it takes to make sure I don’t want to kill you.”
His hand wanders to my ass and squeezes when he says that last part.
A large part of me wants to panic. I don’t like being touched, I don’t like being threatened so disgustingly, and I definitely don’t like the way he keeps waving that gun around.
No, Daphne. Remember what he said.
You’re a Chekhov.
And that means something.
“I have a counter-offer.”
Brennan moves away from me, genuinely surprised. “Oh?”
I have to admit, I’m pretty surprised, too. I sound much stronger than I feel. More confident. Assertive. Powerful.
I even have the guts to smirk at him, like the Chekhov that I am. “I do. You keep your gun. Shoot them both for all I care, but make sure it’s not too messy. I plan on inheriting this place once they’re gone and the deep cleaning fees are enormous.”
Ophelia gasps in horror. Stewart looks like he wants to lunge at me again, but he won’t with Brennan still wielding that stupid gun.
“Go on,” he says. He actually sounds… interested.
I brace my hands on my hips and tilt my head to one side. I never knew his wife, but I saw her on the news a few times. Something tells me he’s got a kink for powerful women… and the growing bulge in his pants confirms it. “I’ll give you a head start. You and I both know Pasha won’t rest until you’re dead, and like you said: it’s no fun when it’s quick. So I’ll distract him long enough for you to at least escape the city.”
Brennan seems to seriously think about it. This might actually work. We might actually?—
“Or…” He smiles at me. It’s cold and cruel and deeply disturbing. “I kill your parents. Fuck that sweet body of yours. Then kill you right when he gets here so I can kill him while he’s too distracted mourning your dead, defiled corpse. Yeah. I like that plan better.”
Shit.
I can’t think of a different tactic. I’m drawing blanks. It’s one thing to be up against someone wickedly intelligent—but deranged?
That’s a whole other wall of impossible.
“Scott—”
There’s a sudden knock at the door. It’s so out of place, and so out of nowhere, I almost laugh.
Brennan freezes. “What the fuck?”
Another knock. This time, it’s a bit louder. Firmer.
The senator turns on his heels, the hand holding his gun limp at his side. He’s just as confused as we are, but since he’s holding all the cards, it makes sense for him to be the one to answer the door.
He opens it.
I see a blessedly familiar figure darken the doorway.
And that’s when I realize: Brennan’s back is to me. He’s thoroughly distracted. And I am thoroughly pissed.
Pissed enough to do something very, very stupid.