Page 9 of Wild Devil
Even more alarming to consider, what is his real purpose for me?
“That’s the point of a riddle, sweetheart,” Silas explains. “Figure it out. Though, I will give you one clue to get you started. Your daddy has a trail of bodies in his wake. Start there, with his very first victim—” A sudden burst of noisy static cuts him off. I’m confused until I see him withdraw something from his pants pocket—a walkie-talkie. Holding it one-handed, he strikes a button on the end with his thumb. “What is it?”
A guttural voice comes from the other end. “…Disturbance outside. Might be an intruder.”
A beaming smile spreads across Silas’ face as he lowers the device. “Wonderful. Looks like I won our little bet. Your boyfriend is here, ready to come to the rescue. I’m more than willing to give him a nice, cozy welcome. Maybe I’ll even let you watch.”
“Wait!” Despite knowing I cannot physically stop him, I step forward. God, I hope they’re wrong. Please, Daze… I pray that he didn’t come. “What did you mean about my father?”
He winks. “We can chat more later. In fact, tonight, I’m going to be your special friend. We’ll be arm-in-arm when Daze comes. In the meantime, how about I tell you a story? The story of the first woman Daze Keaton fucked over and destroyed.”
Jaw clenched, I brace myself for what he might say next—this isn’t the first time he’s brought up this certain topic. Daze was once in love with a woman named Renna—Silas’ sister.
“I don’t think you’re ready yet,” he croons, his breath hot on my face. “But soon, little girl. I’ll teach you how a real man is supposed to be.”
“Like you?” I scoff. “In that case, I’d choose a so-called piece of shit like Daze any day.”
He grunts, but doesn’t react with the violence I expect. His touch is gentle as he bats a piece of stray hair from my face.
“Oh, sweetheart. One day, you’re going to eat those words, and I’ll be waiting.”
He turns and enters the hall, slamming the door behind him.
And if Daze is really somewhere on the property, I pray that he stays out of sight.
FIVE
DAZE
“Ben, tell me again how being here is smart and not a fucking waste of time,” I mutter under my breath to the man crouched beside me behind an overgrown hedge bush. There’s a plastic gnome nearby, bathed in the orange glow of sunset. Its goofy grin seems mocking. I bet that happy bastard thinks I’m an idiot.
So do I.
“You’re being smart,” Ben counters while juggling a pair of binoculars with one hand. “Or at least, I thought so before we were kneeling in fucking dirt for two goddamn hours. Now I think you may or may not be a dumbass. The jury’s still out.”
“Fuck,” I hiss, though my voice doesn’t rise above a whisper. “Frey’s stuck with those monsters, enduring God knows what, and we’re here. Watching her daddy play fucking tea party. Unless his wife is secretly a cartel goon, I doubt she’s the one he answers to.”
“That’s a negative,” Marco replies without missing a beat. He’s positioned further back, serving as a lookout. So far, he’s been quiet and unobtrusive, but I can see his gaze even in the dark. He’s watching things closely, missing nothing.
This empty house near the Heywood mansion provides a good vantage point to observe them, but it’s still a distance away. From here, we only have a view of the west end of the house, and precisely one dining room window. Even so, being that it’s out of range from the guards milling around the property, this place makes for the perfect staging area for what should have been a tense fucking stakeout that would lead to answers and make Frey proud.
Instead, we’re already past the main course, and only Heywood and his wife are seated at the table. Judging from the stiff but steady way they eat, I doubt they’re expecting any guests. Still, I have a whole new appreciation for Frey, just getting a glimpse of the environment she had to tolerate.
Her father is a bastard. Watching the prick incites a rage that I haven’t felt since he tried to put me in prison. Even from here, I can sense his cold hatred. The poor woman beside him is cowering in his wake. When I think of Frey in close proximity to this man, my blood boils.
But I can’t do a damn thing about any of it.
“That’s it. I’m going to the church.” I start to inch back. “Fuck this. I can meet up there with Kane. Frey needs me more than this bullshit?—”
“Wait.” Ben reaches out for my arm, but I shake him off.
“No. Enough playing babysitter?—”
“Will you just wait? Look!”
I turn back to the house and find Heywood and his wife still seated at the dining table. “What? Just admit it, Ben. You like being a fucking voyeur?—”
“Look at the road,” Marco pitches in. He’s drawn closer, his eyes fixed straight ahead. “There.”