Page 22 of Ashes to New

Her position was at the edge of the carpet, Forest’s place was at the center of the room, and Clark Preston took a seat on the couch. She broke protocol and dared to approach. With her hands clasped before her and head bowed, she walked to stand before him. His eyes widened, surprise muted by the fever of lust brewing behind his stare. Capitalizing on his lust, she lowered to her knees, pressing her cheek against his thigh.

It took less than a breath before his fingers slipped through her hair. He’d always been fascinated by her long hair.

“Little one?”

Lifting her head, she met the fierceness of his eyes and rose to straddle his lap. “Please, sir.”

Her gentle gyrations fed his hunger, and his need stiffened behind the zipper of his trousers.

His deep voice broke upon a soft laugh. “You’re going to miss me, aren’t you?”

Her answer was to snuggle into his eager embrace. She wrapped her arms around him, slipping her fingers between the cushions to grab the hilt of the knife she’d planted between the seam of the cushions. The sound of Forest shifting gave her pause. She’d wanted to spare him this memory, but she had little choice.

Pressing her lips against Clark Preston’s throat, she nibbled and sucked while his dick hardened beneath the training he’d instilled in her hips from the tender age of twelve.

With the trail of her kisses angling down his jaw, her grip tightened, as did her resolve. She kissed him then, exciting the man who’d stolen her innocence. He grabbed her breasts, pinching and twisting her nipples. She kissed him deeply, opening her mouth to allow him to take her as he pleased, and while his tongue speared her mouth, she dragged the sharpened blade against his throat.

His startled shout was swallowed by a flood of blood. She lifted off his lap and watched him gurgle on his last breath, feeling nothing but relief.

“Elsbeth?”

Forest’s low tone demanded her attention, but she didn’t want to miss this moment. It was done. Years of abuse had been silenced with a single cut of flesh.

“Elsbeth?” More insistent now, Forest wouldn’t be denied much longer.

Clark Preston’s body crumpled. The blood congealed into a thick, sticky mess, dripping down his chest to pool in his lap. Turning her attention to the mess, she stared at her knees.

Anticlimactic. That was the word that came to mind.

He should have suffered more. His death had been far too swift and far too peaceful.

“Elsbeth?” Forest’s whisper came from behind.

She dropped the knife and crawled off the couch. His blood coated her inner thighs, and the coppery stench had her gagging.

But they weren’t safe yet.

“Call the cops, Bean.” Her voice came out monotone, holding much firmer than she’d expected. “They need to get here before Master John returns.”

And, from his note, they would have a couple of hours at best, if that long.

“The cops?”

“Yes, call the damn cops.” She turned to face him. “They need to get here before John Snowden.”

Comprehension dawned in Forest’s eyes. He gulped and then looked at the body. “Why?”

Did she tell him what the men had planned for him? She should, and she would, but for now, she needed to get Clark Preston’s blood off her body.

Chapter Twelve

THE POLICE FOUNDElsbeth tucked in a corner of her shower. Water poured down. Steam filled the room. Blood still coated her legs. She’d had every intention of washing away Clark Preston’s residue, but her hands had been shaking too hard. Then, the tears had come. She had no real idea how long she’d been waiting. She didn’t really care.

But she was waiting. There was only one outcome that could follow murder. She’d do it again in a heartbeat and without regret.

All that mattered was Forest and the continued safety of her baby brother. They’d wanted to destroy Forest, pitting him in whatever fighting ring they’d mentioned. John Snowden was right. Forest wouldn’t have lasted a year. His gentle nature would have hastened his death.

He wasn’t the only one she worried about. Her brother’s safety had hinged on the obedience she gave to Clark Preston. He’d held the constant threat of harm over her head if she dared to disobey. Where her brother had wound up, she didn’t know, but Clark Preston had. That fear had ruled her life even if she kept it tucked far away. She didn’t even remember what he looked like. He was an infant when the accident had happened. Now she would never know.