Page 32 of Volatile Vice

Why did she give me this note? Is someone harming her?

She lives here with McAllister. Her mother passed away a few years ago. As far as I know, she and Miles have the same mother, despite their age difference.

There’s got to be a story there, but I don’t know it.

She has a butler, a housekeeper, and a nanny, so she’s not alone here with her father.

But I also know what her father does for a living.

He traffics not only in drugs but in human beings.

God only knows what he’s doing to this little girl.

Or it could be something simpler.

Perhaps she knows of our impending nuptials, and she wants my help getting out of it. That help I’d be happy to give her. Of course, I can’t tell her that if everything goes according to my plan, neither one of us will be bound into that marriage by the time she’s eighteen.

Maybe that’s all it is.

But my God, what if it’s something horrible?

She’s a child.

And she’s asking for my help.

I have to help her.

When my grandfather and McAllister rise, I follow suit.

“When’s the last time you smoked a Cuban, Vinnie?” McAllister asks.

“Not since I was in Europe,” I say.

He grins. “Today’s your lucky day. Let’s go out on the veranda, shall we?”

“Absolutely.” I nod. “But if you’ll excuse me, I need to use the restroom first.”

“Of course. There’s one right off the foyer.” He points. “Meet us out back.”

I nod. “Looking forward to it.” I’d be a moron to think that this entire house isn’t surveilled, but I have to take a chance. This little girl’s life might be depending on me.

Once my grandfather and McAllister leave the dining room, I walk out into the foyer as well, where I locate the door leading to the powder room.

I don’t actually have to use the facilities, so I head back into the living room where I assume I will find Belinda at the piano.

But she’s not there. When her nanny mentioned a lesson, she must have meant a different kind of lesson.

I walk out of the family room and down a hallway lined with doors. This house is huge. About the same size as my grandfather’s.

I find one door cracked open, and inside I hear Belinda reciting.

Some type of academic lesson apparently.

I shouldn’t interrupt, but how else am I going to find out what’s going on with her?

What the hell? I push the door open.

Belinda stops talking, darting her gaze to me. It’s the first time she’s actually looked me in the eyes since I got here. Seated across from her is the young woman who I thought was her nanny. Perhaps she’s more like a teacher.