The men stop talking on my approach, the descending silence thick and uncomfortable. Maybe I should’ve waited for Luther to finish in the bathroom. If these strangers don’t know the rules—if they’re unaware I’m not to be touched—I could be standing before a viper pit.
But it’s too late to back out now.
I won’t scamper away and trigger any sort of predatory chase.
Luther’s son meets my gaze, his dark eyes scrutinizing. I quickly lower my focus, not wanting unnecessary attention as I place the tray on the coffee table and grasp two glasses of scotch. I hand the first to his associate, keeping my attention lowered to forgo another scorn-filled look.
I’m surprised when he grasps the offer gently, his large fingers smoothly wrapping around the rim of the glass. That doesn’t mean I don’t picture the same grip wrapping around a woman’s neck, the effortless glide becoming tight. Squeezing. Choking.
How many times has he tortured the defenseless?
I back away and hold the second glass out to Cole. Just like the other man, his intent toward my offering is slow and calm. There’s no rough grab or harsh snatch. He reaches out, preparing to take the scotch, then doesn’t grasp the glass. His hand only hovers close without contact.
“Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?” His tone holds the same arrogant authority as his father. The same superior self-worth I’ve come to despise.
I swallow over my hatred and chant a mental warning to remain civil.
“I’m Cole,” he continues. “Luther’s son.”
I’m sure he knows I’m well aware of who he is and what he’s capable of. This friendly introduction is merely a taunt.
I raise my gaze, answering him with a spiteful look. It’s impossible to play nice, especially when I’ve conditioned myself to be vicious to all men.
“Have we met?” He rakes his gaze over me, from head to toe and back again. “I’m sure I’ve seen you before.”
I don’t know what he’s angling for—familiarity? Kindness? Or worse, my vulnerability?
“You’re mistaken.” I shove the glass into his hand and backtrack. I’m ready to turn on my heel and flee inside when the glass door slides open and Luther ruins my chance of escape.
“Ahh, there she is.” He strides toward me, sickening pride ebbing off him in waves before he wraps his arm around my waist, awakening my bruises as he drags me into his side. I flow with the movement, not giving him an opportunity to scold me.
“I see you’ve already met my pretty Penny.” Luther tangles his fingers in my dress, reminding me my body is his to control. “I shouldn’t have favorites, but it’s no secret this woman has claimed all my attention.”
“I can see why.” Cole continues to eye me, the visual sweep a violation all on its own. “Is there a reason why I feel like we’ve already met?”
Luther pauses for a moment, glancing between me and his son. “I don’t know. Maybe you’ve seen her on the television. Penny’s not from Oregon. But the news of her disappearance may have crossed state lines.”
“Penny?” the companion asks. “That’s her name?”
Despite knowing I’m not to be touched by anyone but Luther, my unease is high over my status as the center of attention. My position is precarious. Even though these men might not have their way with me, it doesn’t mean Luther can’t demand I put on a deplorable performance.
It wouldn’t be a first.
“Is something wrong?” Luther eyes Cole and grabs the remaining glass of scotch from the tray before taking a seat. “Have you two met before?”
“No.” Cole’s interest evaporates. “She must have a familiar face. That’s all.”
“I’m not sure about her face, but she has a truly unforgettable mouth.” Luther laughs. “Don’t you, baby girl?”
Humiliation burns holes in my chest as I smile and silently wish I had the power to slaughter them all. I picture myself grabbing Luther’s glass, smashing it against the coffee table, and stabbing the jagged remains into his neck.
I could do it, too.
I could kill him. I would kill him. If only I wasn’t scared of whatever new hell I’d be flung into when someone else claimed me as their possession.
I take a backward step, distancing myself from temptation.
“Where are you going?” He pats his lap. “Come here.”
My stomach twists.
I need to check on Lilly. I need these men to find another focus.
But I also need to remember I have no choice.
I reluctantly sulk forward, taking note of the strangers who track my movements.
“Come on.” Luther lashes out, grabbing my wrist to