by C. R. Jane
My shoulders sagged. My justifications weren’t working so well today. Not with the four of them presumably staring at me from the car.
Once inside, I staggered at the immediate assault of the scents of my teenage years. Brownies cooking. My uncle hadn’t lost his sweet tooth. Movement in the living room caught my attention. A young girl sat there. She had to be about fifteen or sixteen. How did I know that? Well, she didn’t have the stiff spine yet that would have kept her sitting like she had a back brace on her that would come by the time she was seventeen. By then, she’d have fucked over someone in a way she’d never recover from. Also, she’d probably have been forced to sleep with a much older man, whether she wanted to or not. To the outside world, that would be rape. But considering she would likely be stealing from the dude on the way out the door, I doubted anyone would much care that it hadn’t been her idea to use her body that way to begin with. Regular laws didn’t apply to us. My uncle hadn’t stood over us with guns while we went down on rich billionaires to abscond with their rubies and diamonds. It would be hard to prove it wasn’t our idea, hard to act like it wasn’t consensual. No, your honor, he just controls us from afar.
Graham’s father had tried to rape me. He was dead now for the attempt.
I wasn’t sure what my lines were, where consent started and finished for me. Everything in my head was constantly blurry, and when I pulled at that idea, pushed at it, I only got more muddled.
It was how the rest of us made our way through life, confused and keeping our backs straight. The fact this girl could slouch only meant she wasn’t yet broken. The temporary freedom lasted until the leash pulled tight, between sixteen and seventeen.
She hadn’t noticed me yet, concentrating on her book. He’d like that. The way she paid attention, it probably meant she could absorb, and there was the trick. Could the girl use the information she read right now in general conversation? Could she apply it? Could she use it to fast track degrees and give herself a profession she could travel around with? My uncle had resources, but he couldn’t account for stupid. You couldn’t be a dumb girl and be here.
What was exceptional about her? I stared, cataloging her like she was just a bunch of spare parts. My uncle never took anyone who wasn’t physically beautiful. Well… that wasn’t true. Several of the women were less gorgeous and more interesting looking in the classical sense. Men did have types. Sometimes, a woman less traditionally beautiful got the job done better.
The one in front of me was absolutely model-esque beautiful. Blonde-haired. Blue-eyed. But it was the blonde hair that caught my attention. That was why he’d taken her on. It glowed in the low light, practically sparkled. That hair would open doors.
She glanced at me, catching my gaze, and I didn’t drop mine. Let her stare. Let her see me and know what she could expect in just ten years. Yes, I was stunningly attractive in a girl-next-door kind of a way. You wouldn’t put me on a magazine, but boy, did men notice me. They couldn’t stop. My violet eyes were such an unusual pigment, it was hard to drag your gaze away from me. But I used men like tissue paper and discarded them, stealing their stuff, changing the way they’d see the world forever. I taught them to remember that just because I came in pretty wrapping paper, didn’t mean the gift inside wouldn’t burn.
It didn’t matter how many people I helped recover from injury, how many old women I assisted. At the end of the day, the rotten-to-my-core destroyer-of-souls was who I was. And sometimes, it was hard to live with. But the true problem? Sometimes, it wasn’t. It was how I knew I was too far gone to ever be brought back.
“Holland,” my uncle called, and I turned. “This way.” He pointed toward the kitchen. Nothing good ever happened in the kitchen for me.
I followed after him, and he closed the door, locking it. Yep, this was going to be very bad.
“There are two dead bodies in Adam Vents’ apartment in Atlanta.”
I nodded. The Chef. Yes, he had a name. Adam Vents. That was it. I hated him. Never thought of him as Adam. Why bother? He was nothing to me.
“Yes, Uncle, I know.” I crossed to the sink and poured myself a glass of water. Drinking it down, I let it cool my mouth. It also gave me a second to collect myself.
This man had taken me to settle a debt with Gran, his mother, and changed me permanently. Made me who I was now. He’d beaten me. Hurt me. Created me out of mud so that I was his shaped monster. And I wasn’t alone. There were at least sixteen of us working these days. Doing his bidding.
“You killed two of my men.”
I nodded. “Well, they were going to kill others.”
“Four former marks, who should not have found you.”
I leaned against the counter. This was not going well, and I couldn’t pretend, not even to myself, that anxiety wasn’t creeping up my spine, ready to bring me to my knees. If I’d thought that would help—begging—I’d do just that. There were times I had. But it only made it worse. Better I stand right here and take whatever was coming.
I cleared my throat. “It’s not my fault they found me. It’s not my job to stay hidden. That’s yours.”
The blow striking my cheek burned, not just from his fingers, but from Steven’s Super Bowl ring that he’d been wearing ever since I stole it from him as it dug into my skin, but the hit was not unexpected. He did love to hit me wearing rings.
“Apologize,” he hissed at me.
I nodded. “I am sorry, Uncle. That was uncalled for.” He was not a man who took criticism well, not even when it was justified. He was power that could not have truth spoken to him. Like his house, he was so ordinary in appearance, someone might think he was an accountant or a seventh grade science teacher. They never saw him coming.
Over the years, he’d pulled his own cons, run drugs, killed people, run gambling operations… I wasn’t even sure of all of it. Every corner of his life was kept separate from the other parts. Only his girls and his enforcers were allowed in his house. And those assholes were all like him, even when they shoved their guns in our faces, it was like we were about to be murdered by a deranged Mr. Rogers.
I had to play this the right way. He’d taught me how to manipulate, how to work people. I’d never figured out how to do it to him. It was like he couldn’t be conned. But somehow, I had to do it.
I only had a fraction of a plan, and I was going to have to go in cold on the rest of it. I swallowed, holding my cheek. Just like I’d done with Charlie. Somehow, thinking of him, even though he hated me, helped me to pull it together. I’d managed to get through the beginning of things with Charlie knowing almost nothing. He’d fallen in love with me, and even though I didn’t use the L word for myself, I’d been very fond of him. Same with Steven. Jamie. Graham. That was my strength. I’d touched something real, and my mean uncle had never experienced anything like it.
“I’m sorry that I had to shoot your men. But they were going to kill the four guys. That would have been a PR nightmare. How would you have explained how Steven died with Graham, Jamie, and Charlie? All in Adam’s apartment?”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Are you trying to suggest that you killed my men to protect me? That’s bullshit. Those are the four that made you falter. I got those reports. I bet you even orchestrated this.”
I’d known he was going to say that. Okay. So far, this was going the way I wanted it to. “I didn’t.” I smiled at him, lowering my eyes below my lashes. He’d never wanted me sexually—thank God, he was my uncle—but he was still a man, and just like daughters had done with their fathers since the beginning of time, surely there was a way he could be manipulated. I hoped.
I weighed my words carefully. “I was just as surprised as anyone. But there they were. They didn’t understand. Somehow, they found me. I think it had to have been a joint effort. But they knew nothing about you, and wouldn’t have if your men hadn’t pursued them.”
He yanked me by my shirt, and I stumbled forward until I hit the counter. “Considering that they’re dea
d, I only have your word to take on that.”
“True.” I swallowed. Well, here I went. “I’m here to take full responsibility for the death of your men. I’m sorry they’re dead.”
He leaned forward, breathing in my ear. “It costs me money to train people. Money to make them loyal. Those two were among my best.”
We were all really just commodities to him. It wasn’t like he was going to mourn their deaths. I swallowed. “Uncle, please. Killing the four of them would be hugely problematic for you. I… I have made it clear to them that they need to go away, and they will now.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “You can’t possibly believe that. They searched for and found you, despite my considerable resources keeping you hidden. They can’t be trusted. They have to be eliminated.”
I shook my head. “No. Please don’t do that. I will personally guarantee their compliance.”
My uncle went very still. His gaze bored into me like he could drill a hole into my soul. “That’s quite a statement to make. Vouching for them to me. You know what it means. You can’t still be worked up by these worthless people?”
If I’d been braver, better, a good person, anything other than what I was, I’d have railed against his categorizing them like that. I’d have told him how it was just the opposite problem. That each of them had been so much better than they should have been, that they’d totally disarmed me, shattered my walls and intentions, changed me from the inside out. Starting with Steven, ending with Jamie, traveling through Graham and Charlie. I couldn’t believe it would ever happen again.
But I wasn’t any of those things. I was Holly James. This was Uncle. I was basically a sociopath. Maybe he’d made me that way, maybe I’d been born to be. I didn’t know how these things worked, didn’t care to know. I was his niece, after all. How much of him was inside me?
“I know what I’m saying to you. They’re scared. Trust me. I shot two men in front of them. Thanks for those shooting lessons by the way.”
I’d never get the image of them dying out of the back of my mind. Not that I could let myself think about it right now. I didn’t feel bad they were dead—they’d have killed my four guys. But, damn. The gun had been heavy in that moment. I’d almost not been strong enough to pull the trigger. The gun was loud. It rang in my ears. Actually, they were still ringing. Damn. I hadn’t noticed.
I blinked. I had to fucking focus.
“They’ll never bother with you again. They’re running for their lives. I’ll guarantee they’ll comply.”
He laughed. “Are you putting yourself up as collateral against that promise?”
“Yes,” I said it, and I meant it. I’d hurt these men, and whatever bullshit I spewed, I knew it hadn’t just been stuff I’d taken from them. Jamie hadn’t painted anything new, or at least shown anything he’d done recently, since I left. Yeah. I fucking knew that.
If this went badly, giving up my life might just be poetic justice for all of the people whose lives I destroyed. Oh, look at me. Growing a conscience in my old age of twenty-six, almost twenty-seven years old. Who’d have thought it?
“Fine. I’ll believe you and take your collateral for now. You’re not worth to me what you once were. We only have three, maybe four years left with you where you’re worth money to me. Then you’re just a washed-up whore. If you die tomorrow, it only costs me three years’ worth of time, Niece.”
I tried to swallow. What was there to say about that, really? I had nothing.
“If they fuck up, you’re dead.” He let me go. “And there is still the matter of my dead men. You owe me for that, too. How do you intend to pay me back?”
“Give me a job. Any job. I’ll do it.” The longer we worked, the better job he assigned us. But if he wanted me to go sleep with the superintendent of schools or something to go pay off a debt, I’d do it. Anything. I wouldn’t even blink.
“Oh you’re going to do a job, all right. A big one. And if you don’t get it done, I’ll kill you. Truthfully, Holland, I think you might be more of a pain than you’re worth. But then, you were never worth very much. My mother made you trash, and before that, my brother raised you to be weak. I’ve never really been able to fix you.”
He shook his head. “You have to be taught to not fall for these idiots. You have to remember who owns you, Holland.”
He banged on the wall, and I knew what that meant. They were coming for me. Two of his goons came into the room, smiles on their faces. I guess whatever job I was doing was going to have to wait. I couldn’t make a man fall in love with me when I was beat to shit.
And that was just what was about to happen.
This was going to be a bad one. I’d probably cry, because I was weak like that.
Chapter 4
Holly
Past
My uncle didn’t waste any time. When he knew what he wanted, he reached out and took it. And when I arrived at his house, he took one glance at my violet eyes and decided I was his. Gran hadn’t wanted to bring me over. I hadn’t seen my uncle since I was a little girl still living with my parents. I didn’t really have a memory of him, because that was how my uncle operated. There was nothing noticeable about him. His appearance was average, his height was average, even his voice had a mellow tone. Average. The perfect front for evil, if you asked me. No one ever saw him coming. He was the perfect wolf in sheep’s clothing.
Gran had been twitchy. That was the only way to describe her. She kept shooting me concerned glances and then would pretend she hadn’t been looking at me as soon as I noticed. We’d been in the car forever, and she still hadn’t told me where we were going. Finally, she gave in. We’d been in the car for over a day.
“We’re going to see your uncle this morning. I want you to be quiet when we’re there, ya hear me, girl?” she ordered. Gran always referred to me as “girl” when she wanted me to pay attention.
I nodded.
The drive to my uncle’s house was quiet; there was a feeling of dread in the car that I didn’t quite understand. We pulled up to a nondescript suburban house, and the dread intensified. It was like I could feel the danger that was lying in wait for me inside that house.
We walked inside. The silence was deafening. “Wait in here,” Gran said, gesturing to the living room where a faded plaid couch sat in front of a large flat screen television.
For some reason, my insides welled up in panic as she started to walk away. “Gran,” I called out sharply after her. She turned to look at me.
“It’s all right, child,” she said calmly, but her eyes told me it wasn’t.
I sat on that couch, and I waited. The front door opened and then closed, but when I swung around, I couldn’t see anyone there. Who had left?
“Hello, Holland.” I jumped, the low, average, unremarkable voice of my uncle filled the room. I turned and gave him my attention. A sense of foreboding moved through me. I wished it was something I understood. It was like a warning I didn’t know how to follow. I’d had it once before when I asked my mother to not leave me with the babysitter. What I should have said was please stay home.
Where was Gran? I wouldn’t make that mistake again. I’d tell her I wanted to leave, that something horrific was going to happen.
He sat down next to me on the couch. “It’s polite to say hello when someone greets you. I know you have that many manners.”
Swallowing, my mouth had gone dry. I did not like this man, didn’t want him anywhere near me. “Hello.”
He put his hands in his lap, linking his fingers together as though he might suddenly be in prayer, like I used to do by the side of my bed with my mother. Now I lay me down to sleep…
I blinked. Why had I suddenly had that memory? Did I need to pray for something right then?
“That’s better.” He patted my knee. “Do you remember me?”
Where the hell was Gran? Why had she left me here with this man? He was setting off my creep factor to a level of ten. “Where is my grandmother?”
“She’s my mother.” He smiled, but there was no niceness in his gaze, just a cool assessment. “She’s gone. That’s what she does. She leaves. Trust me on that. I asked you a question, and when I ask questions, I expect answers. We’ll try again. Do you remember me?”
I shook my head. “No,” I practically shouted. What did he mean she left? She wouldn’t do that to me. We were a pair. We belonged together.
She had come for me when my parents went and got themselves killed. Who did that? Who slid off the road and just died when they had a kid at home? I could hear my own thoughts, see how crazy they were, and yet…I couldn’t stop them. This was too much. This was too like they’d died again. I was back in my bed and that miserable woman, the babysitter’s fucking mother, was staring down at me and telling me they hadn’t come home and asking who should she call. Well, she called Gran. That meant that she didn’t leave—that she stayed with me.
He rose. “I can see that you’re very upset. It’s unfortunate you don’t remember me. Your father and I were once very close. We were boys together. Skinned knees. Burning bugs in the backyard.”
“My father was an accountant. He didn’t burn bugs.”
The smile again. “Oh yes, Holland, he did. You see, we all have two lives. The one we are given and the one we make for ourselves the day we decide that we are not satisfied with the one we had.” He walked slowly, deliberately toward the fireplace. Staring at it, he spoke again. “Your father hit that place first. He decided what his life would be and worked toward that goal. I can respect that. I always did. Of course, he left me in that hellhole backwater town and never looked back, then proceeded to judge me when I was reborn myself. It doesn’t matter. I won in the end. I always do. Where are you living? With me now.”
I didn’t want to live here. No. Absolutely not. This was a mistake. I wasn’t supposed to be here. I was supposed to be in my bed with my dolls all around me. No, I hadn’t had that for years. I was supposed to be in Gran’s house with the paintings on the wall that showed all the great cities in the world she would never see, and it didn’t matter because the paintings showed her everything she needed to see anyway.
