Darker Than Night - Amelia Wilde Page 0,33
bribe enough of them to make it a non-issue.”
“James.”
“If he’s brought in others, then that becomes more of a mathematical problem. We’ve had decent luck liaising with Hades’ men in the city, so—”
My brother’s people? What the fuck? I put out a hand and stop James in mid-stride. “Care to let me in on this conversation?”
James is a handsome dark-eyed man but right now the whites of his eyes are so large, his pupils so black, that he reminds me of Hades. Not Hades now—he wouldn’t let this sort of fear show on his face. Not even when I toyed with killing him on his own mountain. “We have to go in for them. We can’t wait. Tell me you’ve changed your mind.” His hands fly out and he grabs the front of my shirt. He almost has enough strength to move me. “Tell me you’ve changed your mind, you bastard.”
I brush his hands off and corral him to an armchair near the bookshelves. “What is this?” I gesture vaguely in his direction, old habits dropping into place to keep my posture at ease and my face neutral. “No—wait.”
“Where are you going?”
“You obviously need a drink.” I go back to the kitchen and pour him a glass of the first whiskey to hand. When I return he takes it without meeting my eyes and tosses it back. It’s clear he doesn’t feel the burn. I sit down across from him. James’s fist opens and closes on the glass.
She’s pregnant, a voice whispers. It sounds less like Katie, and that makes me want to dig into the dirt above her grave and demand that her voice come back to me. You shouldn’t leave her alone.
I’m in the next room, I remind the voice, though being one floor down didn’t save Katie. The hairs on the back of my neck bristle.
“The situation—” James turns his head, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and there is something else here, something I’ve neglected to notice in the midst of my own irrelevant feelings. “We have to make a plan, and we have to make it tonight.”
“This isn’t like you.” I lean forward in my chair. My entire body howls to be with Brigit but this is a calculated pose, meant to draw him in. “You don’t go to pieces over issues with the women. You don’t go to pieces at all.”
“She’ll kill them.” His eyes are on the floor, gaze stuck near my shoes. “She’ll kill them, Zeus. One by one. I wouldn’t be surprised if she made videos, if she—”
“This isn’t about the women.” It’s a sickening guess, a sickening thought, and he thinks he has to keep it from me. “It’s not just about them, is it?”
This is the man who had to sit in a room with me while I watched the footage of Brigit being taken. He does not scare easily. This is personal.
“No.” The word makes no sound.
“James—”
“She has my husband, too.” He stands up abruptly and shoves his hands into his pockets. “You need to come with me. Right now. She’s getting more brazen. You need to see it so you understand.”
I lean back in my chair. “Is she? How do you know?”
James glares with his usual precision turned up a thousand degrees. “Because she sent a photo. To the main brothel email address.”
Christ. “What? A selfie? A picture of her lunch?”
“This isn’t fucking Instagram. This is real life, Zeus.”
That makes me smile, though it isn’t kind. “Let’s see the photo, then.”
He pulls something up on his phone and holds it out. In a way I’m not wrong. There’s my sister grinning her maniacal smile, her hand fisted in another woman’s hair. Savannah. Her mascara runs down her cheeks. It is a selfie, after all. And it’s what she’s having for lunch. The women I used to care for and protect. The women I used to use. My relationship with them has always been complicated. Most of them are afraid of me, but they’d still rather work for me than anyone else. At least I make sure they’re fed and bathed. I reward them well. They’re allowed to choose their clients. No beatings. No scars. It’s a cold comfort for a whore, but a comfort all the same. My sister won’t give them any of that. She’ll hurt them. She’ll kill them, the same way she killed baby birds she found in a nest. It would be so much easier not to care. It would be so much easier to