Page 34 of Shattered King

He moved fast. He’d always been fast, like a snake, striking when you least expected it. He was strong, too, stronger than me. He’d always kept himself fit, loved nothing more than showing me how helpless I was, that he could do whatever he wanted to me and I couldn’t do anything about it.

He did that now, grabbing me when I tried to run, easily wrestling me into a chair. He grabbed a length of rope sitting on the table that I hadn’t even noticed, and secured my hands behind my back, strapping me to the chair.

I sucked in a strangled breath when cool fingers slid my hair away from my neck, brushing my skin. I went from frozen to granite. My body locked up completely at the feel of his hands on me.

“I’ve missed you, Lucinda.” That voice, smooth as silk, slithered down my spine.

Pierce’s fingers curled around the back of my neck, squeezing gently, and I couldn’t speak.

“We have a little business, you and I, and then we can work on getting reacquainted. It’s been too long, sweets.”

I tried to open my mouth, to tell him to go to hell, but my jaw felt wired shut. Every muscle in my body refused to work. His hand on me had the same effect as a gag, as chains. I needed to snap the hell out of it. Now.

I forced words past my now dry lips. “Please, just let me go.” I sounded pitiful, weak, and I hated it.

He moved around the chair but kept his hand on me, sliding it to the front of my throat as he went, thumb grazing my jaw. He leaned down so our eyes were level, so I could feel his breath on my cheek. “Are you afraid, Lucinda?”

If I said no, I knew he’d make sure before this was over that my answer would be yes. So I gave him the truth, even though it killed me. “Yes,” I whispered.

He took a step back, releasing me, and I drew in a sharp almost painful breath.

“You have reason to fear me. Very good reason.” He plastered a sad smile on his face. “It hurts me that out relationship has come to this. Your mother would be heart broken.”

“Don’t . . .” An anguished sound burst from me. “Don’t talk about her, don’t you dare . . .”

He gripped my chin, tight, cutting me off without effort. “She loved art, didn’t she? She got a lot of pleasure from those paintings her mother left her, especially the Vinciago. You know the one I mean, yes?”

What? I struggled to process what he was saying. Right then all I could hear was him talking about my mom like she was already gone.

“Answer me,” he barked. “The painting, Lucinda. Tell me what you know about that painting.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say . . .”

“Where the fuck is it?”

“I have no idea.” Why was he asking me this? What the hell was going on?

He back-handed me, hard. My face whipped to the side, body slamming back into the chair, blood filling my mouth. My head dropped forward, hair covering my face. I bit back a helpless sob.

“Let’s try this again, shall we?” He gripped my hair and wrenched my head back so he could see my face. “You think I’m dumb, fucking stupid? It vanished when you did.” He slid a hand inside his jacket and brought out a piece of paper, gaze going over my shoulder to whoever was standing by the door. Derek. I assumed. “You’re going to write down where you hid it. Crystal clear directions.” His smile turned hard. “All you have to do to keep your son safe is give me the information I want. Now.”

At the mention of Josh, I started struggling, a sound I’d never heard before coming from the back of my throat. It was animalistic, frantic.

He leaned forward. “He must still be so small, Lucinda. They’re so fragile at that age, aren’t they?”

I tugged at the rope at my back. It dug in, but I didn’t care. I had to get out of here. I had to get to my son. “Don’t you go near him . . . don’t . . .” A cry broke free. “Just, please. Don’t hurt him. He’s just a little boy.”

He lifted the paper in his hand. “Give me what I want, then.”

I didn’t know where the goddamn painting was. No idea. I’d barely noticed it when I’d lived at home. Yes, my mother loved it, but that’s all I knew. I wasn’t stupid enough to tell him that, though. He wasn’t going to believe me, that much was clear. I needed him gone, maybe if I gave him an address he’d leave long enough for me to try and get free, get help. “Fine.”

“I knew you’d see it my way.”

He came forward. He undid the rope, releasing my right hand, then pulled a pen from his pocket and laid the piece of paper on my knees. It was obvious he didn’t trust Derek; why else would he have me write it down and not just tell him? Maybe there was a way of using that to my advantage. But right then, I couldn’t think of a single thing.

I did it quickly, with that bastard breathing down my neck. Some random address, still in the city, because I knew he wouldn’t buy it if I said I’d left it in Lawrence. Not when he assumed I’d stolen it for its value, which was the only reason he’d want it. I could guess that much. But I’d also sent him far enough away that I’d have a little time to try and . . . and . . . do what? Shit. I had no freaking idea. I just knew I had to get away from here, away from these men any way I could.

When I finished, he stared down at it. I held my breath, waiting for him to call me out, but he didn’t. He folded it up, slid it in his inside jacket pocket, and smiled down at me. “Now that was painless, wasn’t it?”