Page 67 of Lord of Vice

I rolled the Mercedes into the bay of garages, immediately hitting the secure opener as the blue lights of the interior flicked on. Even talking about her mother seemed off limits. She was hurting more than I’d anticipated. Weren’t we all?

Penny sat still, staring out the windshield and I sensed her entire demeanor had shifted once again. I wasn’t entirely certain why other than the obvious, but at this point I needed to regroup so I could better determine what the hell was going on.

Including how my secure environment had been turned into a shooting gallery. Christ, the bastards had all been wearing black, including ski masks. Their clothing hadn’t drawn any attention from anyone? I had to remind myself that there were several entrances into the resort, including long corridors fromfive different parking lots and that didn’t include those for employees.

Different jobs required different uniforms, but every exterior door was covered with cameras. That meant either they’d been disabled, or the assholes had changed clothes after they’d gotten inside. I was going for the latter considering the resort had been busier than normal.

My thoughts had also gone back and forth over the issue with Breck, and his father’s odd behavior. Perhaps this was about drugs, but I doubted it. It was about control. It was about revenge. It was entirely possible the Butcher had visited the two men, just as he’d likely done with the judge Zach had mentioned. It was just another player to sort through.

I wanted to tell karma to take a freaking number. That could mean anything at this point.

At least I didn’t need to remind her to climb from the vehicle. She did so stiffly, helping Remington out from the backseat then keeping a firm hold on his collar. I was surprised the poor dog had done as well as he had given the circumstances.

She trailed behind me, glancing from one of my acquisitions to another. It was good to see Vissarian’s Cougar parked in its normal spot. While I couldn’t keep him locked down in the house, the kid nineteen, I would stress the need for safety measures being taken, including always having two bodyguards with him.

Not that I believed he was the main target, but it was possible whoever was behind the attacks would sweep the house.

I led her up a set of stairs into the kitchen. We both heard blaring music, Vissarian’s usual trait. When I returned from a lengthystay at my suite, the place had often been used for a party with his buddies. Music was just a part of his world, the kid telling me he’d wanted to be a musician.

Hence the rock band he’d joined a couple of years before. Too bad they were terrible, but it was a release that he needed. That had at least kept him off the streets as well as away from drugs. Which I would kick his ass for. I flicked on another light, augmenting the one over the stove. I could see an open bottle of whiskey on the counter. My brother was obviously furious that I’d required him to come home, determined to piss me off as far too many had attempted to do as of late.

She said nothing, standing as if being in my home was the worst possible choice I could have made.

“Would you like something to drink?” I asked as I immediately went to find a clean bowl to fill with water for the dog. At least I had a series of housekeepers, or I had a feeling the place would be a pigsty.

“I want to wash my hands. Change clothes.”

After placing the water bowl on the floor, I moved toward her, guiding her to the sink. She was more in shock than before, her eyes unable to focus as if her mind still couldn’t process the atrocities she’d witnessed. If I could have kept her from seeing the carnage I would have.

I turned on the spigot, waiting until the water was lukewarm, mildly surprised she allowed me to take both her hands, placing them under the stream. I wanted to be gentle with her but the amount of blood she had on her skin was more than I’d originally believed. It was touching she was so concerned aboutMisha, wailing about his condition when she should have been thinking about herself and her own safety.

But seeing the blood gushing from the wound, his eyes rolling in the back of his head had taken a toll on her. Hell, it had on me as well. Misha was family. I’d never thought of him that way before but it was just another eye-opening moment brought on by the woman trembling in my hold.

When I was finally able to remove the stains, I yanked one of the kitchen towels from the oven door, now allowed to be tender as I helped wipe the water away. I left her with it, snagging two glasses from the cabinet and pouring both half full of whiskey.

As I brought one to her, I noticed she was either incapable of looking me in the eyes or flat out refusing to.

At least she accepted the glass, instantly bringing it to her lips.

I waited until she’d swallowed the first gulp, perhaps worried she’d choke herself, before sipping on mine. As I leaned against the counter, I tried my best to think of something appropriate or comforting to say. I had no clue what that could be. We were different people, her attempt at escaping whatever horrors she’d been through in her life leading her into a monster’s lair.

“Why aren’t you on social media?” Perhaps this was the wrong time to continue grilling her, but in my experience, her reaction was based on more than what she’d seen and heard the last couple of days. Something terrible had occurred in her past that had driven her into a black fog, perhaps reliving what she’d been through before.

She took another gulp of her drink, keeping her head down, her lips pursed. “Because I didn’t want him to find me.”

“Him? Jake?” I’d barely heard her words, they were said so softly.

Her nod was perfunctory and she finally raked her hand through her hair. “My boyfriend. My ex-boyfriend.”

“What happened?”

She was slow in reacting, taking another sip then lifting her head, finally allowing her eyes to settle on mine. “I could flower it up with garbage, but the simple truth is that he tried to kill me and almost succeeded.”

There was no emotion in her words. Maybe that’s because I was ready to explode. Some motherfucker had hurt a precious creature like her? “Who the fuck is this asshole?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me.”