Page 61 of Lord of Pain
"Your sisters are walking in front of me with George," Roy says. He has big, blocky teeth, like he eats children for breakfastbecause they're chewier than cereal. "I have my gun. It will be pressed against your rib cage. If one of you-" He nods at my sisters, who are shaking so hard that I'm not sure how they're still standing upright. "If either of you says a word or acts in any way like this is unusual, I will shoot your sister in the spine. The bullet will paralyze her for life, it won't kill her, though. Death would probably be kinder."
Rose sucks in a big sobbing breath and claps her hand over her mouth.
"It's okay, sweetie. It's okay," I say hastily, reaching out, trying to touch her face before Roy yanks me back. A wild glance at Larry shows that he's sitting behind my desk, calmly watching this happen. "It's fine," I repeat. "Just take a breath and walk. I won't let anything happen to you, I promise."
Fuck! Where's Ioann? He'd be here; he stays on top of us every second-
Ioann's dead. He'd be here. Claws rip at my heart. Ioann, with his good suits and his careful speech is dead. Because of me.
There's a stifled chuckle from Colin. I have an image of taking the stiletto Roman gave me and shoving it up under Colin's chin and scrambling his brain into pancake batter. The thought is so savagely satisfying that I can feel my blood surge.
I wish I'd brought the knife to work. I thought it would be too dangerous.
"Let's go," Roy orders and George herds the girls out the door and down the hallway. I can feel the gun pressed painfully into my ribs, just like this fat John Cena-looking son of a bitch promised, but I grit my teeth. I'm not showing this fucker anything.
I look over my shoulder. Colin is chatting with Larry, shaking hands like they're closing a lucrative business deal. Laughing humorlessly, I realize they have.
Jones sits up straight as we pass by the front desk. "Are you going to dinner?" She's staring at the two men who seem to be crowding us pretty closely. I manufacture a smile for her. "Yeah, we're heading out for the night. If you have any questions, call Maureen over at the Women and Children's Shelter. She can give you a hand."
Her brow furrows and she says, "What about Larry –"
"Bye!" I give her an awkward little wave.
I'm forced to march out the employee's exit. There's a town car waiting in the alley and they shove us into the backseat. Rose and Iris both burst into loud, frightened sobs..
"I know you're scared," I whisper. "But this is the time to be strong and smart. Watch everything, look for an opportunity. If you can find a way to bolt, you take it. Don't look back."
They look at me, wide-eyed, and I realize this is the first time I've ever given them any real responsibility. I've babied them as much as Poppy has. However, they grew up anyway. Thanks to their little racketeering escapade, I know they can handle it.
Leaning closer I whisper, "This can't be harder than you selling off all those cases of those Xbox PS6s, is it?"
The car jostles heavily as Roy gets in, facing us as George seats himself in front with the driver. "No more whispering," Roy says. "Relax, we've got a trip ahead of us."
"Yeah, fat John Cena," I snap. "Easy to do when someone's holding a gun on you." My brain has disengaged and every angry thing I've ever stuffed down is ready to fly out of my mouth.
His hand raises and I can tell he'sdyingto hit me. I almost hope he would, it might distract the driver enough that Rose and Iris could disengage the locks and get out of here. Roy lowers his fist, slowly spreading his fingers out on his thigh.
"You're going to learn to keep your mouth shut," he says calmly. His smile is grotesquely eager. "And maybe Mr. Ashford will let me help." Iris sucks in a breath and I realize it's not to cry. She's staring at his smug, ugly face like she's ready to take a bite out of it. I squeeze her hand, smiling pleasantly, enjoying his look of confusion as the town car pulls out into traffic.
Chapter Twenty-Six
In which it’s a shame that Roman never chipped Violet.
Roman…
I throw my stiletto up, admiring how the light plays along the blade before I catch it again, handle first. I toss it up again, this time catching the razor-sharp tip between my thumb and forefinger.
"You have to stop that before you carve up my office furniture," Dmitri says sternly. "Why are you so edgy?"
We're in his office on the CEO level of the Morozov Group, the office building we keep downtown for appearances and the occasional visit with legitimate business partners.
"I haven't heard from Violet."
Shit. I just blurted that out like a lovesick fourteen-year-old boy.
Dmitri, of course, takes advantage of this. "Maybe you should have Ioann slip a piece of paper in her notebook. 'Do you like me? Check yes or no.' Then you can stop hovering around my office like an angst-ridden ghoul."
"Thank you brother. I always know I can count on you for support." I flip my stiletto again.
