Soulless Knight

by Violet Paige

  Kennedy stepped out of the car slowly. “Put the gun down,” she hissed. Her skin was flushed with sweat. I had kissed half her makeup away.

  Kimble held the gun steady. “Not until you leave with me.”

  Her eyes darted to me. “I’m sorry. I have to go with him. I don’t want to, but you understand?”

  I reached for her hand. I wanted to pull her back toward me. To wrap her in my arms and hurl her inside my apartment. I would barricade the door. Kimble couldn’t shoot his way through. No one could.

  Our fingertips grazed quickly, but she was already at Kimble’s side.

  “Put it down. Now. I’m going with you.” She stared up at her bodyguard. “You don’t need to threaten him with a gun.”

  I saw the frustration welling her eyes. “You don’t need to say anything to Mr. Martin about this, Kimble.” I shoved my hands in my pockets. “She’s safe. She was safe the entire night.”

  He didn’t give any clues about whether he would take my suggestion.

  “Get in the car,” he barked at Kennedy.

  Her eyes weren’t the same. The openness was gone. The light extinguished. The wildfire we had lit had gone dark.

  There wasn’t a fucking thing I could do about it.

  I watched as her bodyguard shuttled her into the Escalade and drove out of the alley. The tires screeched as he turned the corner.

  Thunder clapped overhead and lightning streaked across the sky. I didn’t want to think about what almost happened. About how close we had come to setting our bodies on fire. The sheets. My bed. Fuck.

  I turned for the back door and walked past Wallace, my house manager.

  “Do you need anything, sir?” he asked. He had likely witnessed the scene.

  I shook my head.

  “I’m in for the night,” was all I could manage to explain. I climbed the stairs for my suite and turned the handle. I glared at the empty bed.

  The next morning, I beat my father to his office. He looked surprised to see me. I didn’t work Saturdays. I kept to myself on the weekends, staying as far from my family as I could.

  “What’s this about?” He walked past me.

  I sat on the arm of a leather chair.

  “Do you have any idea how upset your mother is with you? You left before the photographer finished.”

  “Sorry about that.”

  “Are you?” His eyebrows arched.

  “I was in plenty of photos. It wasn’t even the wedding for Christ’s sake.”

  “Try telling that to your mother. It was just as important to her.”

  I crossed my arms. “I’ll make sure to check with the photographer before I leave the next party. How does that sound?”

  “Who was the girl? Your mother isn’t happy about that either.”

  I huffed. “What is she happy about?”

  “She wanted you to dance with one of the Depas girls.”

  “Why?” My jaw clenched. “I’ve never been interested in them. You know that. Have you seen the Depas girls?”

  My father shuffled papers on his desk. “Their father has recently increased his stock in a whiskey business. I think they’re looking more attractive with those kinds of numbers behind their last name.”

  “Who cares?” I shook my head. “Not interested.”

  “You are twenty-eight years old.” His eyes bore into my skull. “You can’t keep this up much longer.”

  “Keep what up?” I drew a long breath.

  “Dating. Running through girls like dirty laundry. You need to make an official declaration and start representing this family.”

  “I do represent the family.”

  He sat abruptly in the chair. “We have different interpretations of that word. You don’t show the other families that you are committed. Where is the wife? Where are the kids? Huh?”

  “Fuck, dad. I don’t want kids right now.” I ran my fingers through my hair.

  He pointed at me. “You’re almost thirty. I had two kids by your age. No kids means your legacy is up for grabs. You have no roots. No inheritance to pass on. You’re a man without legs if you don’t have children. What are you doing to change that? What’s your plan, Knight?”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose with my fingers. “I didn’t come here to talk to you about making you a grandpa. Okay?”

  “What then? It seems like the most pressing issue. I thought maybe after attending your baby sister’s engagement party it would have made you stop and think about your own future.”

  “It was a good party,” I commented. “As long as Seraphina is happy that’s all that matters.” Our eyes locked. He knew as well as I did that Seraphina was miserable. Neither of us would mention our last fight on the subject. It could lead to blows.

  “She is happy,” he snapped. It was a warning.

  “What do you know about Lucien Martin?” I asked, changing the subject.

  My father shrugged. His face was red. He had gotten worked up more quickly than usual.

  “He’s an outsider. Vulture type.” I heard the contempt in his voice.

  “Then why did you invite him to Seraphina’s engagement party?” I thought the guestlist was exclusively for friends of both families. Neither set of parents wanted to risk an event.

  He pushed back, to rock in the chair. “Because, always bring your enemies in close, son.” I had been wrong about the guest list.

  “Why in the hell is he an enemy? He just moved here.”

  “Lucien Martin has been buying up property for over a year. He might have just moved to New Orleans, but he’s been trying to buy up the same sites we’re after. He has five different LLCs but Paul tracked them all back to the KM Corporation. He closed on his first hotel yesterday. He’s driving up prices, starting bidding wars. He’s becoming an issue.”

  KM? He had used his daughter’s initials. “That’s called competition. It doesn’t make the man an enemy.”

  “It makes him a problem. A problem I need to dispose of before he buys up my next target. I was disappointed he didn’t show last night. I wanted to have a word with him. I heard he sent his daughter instead.”

  Fuck.

  My mother hadn’t yet told him Kennedy’s identity. It was clear he had no idea who she was, or anything about our meeting in the pool house. It was better that way for now.

  “Why don’t you let me take care of Lucien?” I offered. “Give this one to me. I’ll look into him. See if there’s anything from Chicago that might be of use.”

  My father eyed me. “You’re offering to help?”

  “Of course.” I pretended it was a regular occurrence, ignoring I was usually reluctant to add more to my list of family duties.

  “I’m glad to hear it.” He sat for a minute, digesting the offer. “There’s an auction next month. I want the property. It’s a boutique hotel, but we need the access it provides. High-end clientele. Location. All of it.”

  “I know it.” I nodded.

  “Everything I’ve planned revolves around bringing the Vieux Carre into our portfolio immediately. We need the pipeline.”

  “I’ll handle it. You’ll get your pipeline.” The organization had made millions. I didn’t agree with trafficking more drugs under the city, but my father rarely turned away easy money. The Vieux Carre flooded and was reconstructed during prohibition. There were tunnels beneath the hotel that lead from the docks to the trucking warehouses. It was the perfect pathway for any future business operation he planned.

  My father smiled. “I trust you will, son.”

  I left my father’s office not accomplishing what I wanted. Instead, I had a new problem on my hands. I had to hope that it would lead Kennedy back to me and not push her farther in her cell.

  5

  Kennedy

  Someone was blocking my sun. I peered over my sunglasses. It was Kimble. I couldn’t tell if he was eyeing my new bikini. His shades were dark. His face expressionless.

  “Yes?” I prompted. “What’s wrong?” I stretched
one leg along the other. My skin glistened in the sunlight. I hadn’t had a say in the house my father choose, but I did like the pool. It felt as if I was in a French courtyard somewhere in the south of France on the coast.

  “We need to talk about last night.”

  I sighed. “I knew you would tell my father.” I picked up the book I was reading. “I’m not surprised.”

  “Actually, I haven’t mentioned it.”

  I sat forward. He had my attention. “Why not?” I asked.

  “Didn’t you notice?”

  “Notice what?”

  “Your father hasn’t left his rooms today.”

  I held my breath, expecting him to elaborate. “Okay. And your point?”

  “It’s almost one o’clock. He’s not well. I don’t want to add to his stress. I’m supposed to keep the Martins safe. I take that seriously.”

  I groaned. “It’s just bronchitis. He gets it all the time.” Of all the people to fuss over my father, I didn’t expect it to be Kimble.

  “Whether he does or not, I thought I’d give you a pass for last night. For his sake at least.”

  “A pass?” I reached for my water bottle.

  I saw the sweat trickle down his neck. He was wearing a suit, equipped with body armor and weapons.

  “Yes. A pass. If he knew you had skirted my detail, we’d both be in trouble.”

  I laughed. “So, this is about you saving your job. It’s not really because you’re worried about his health.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “I’m trying to do a favor for you too. He won’t be happy if he knows you spent the evening with Knight Corban.”

  “That’s crazy because he sent me to Seraphina Corban’s engagement party,” I argued. “He wanted me to represent him, and that means I have to socialize with everyone. Even Knight Corban.” My argument was foolproof.

  “You were there because of the Castilles, not to sneak off with Knight Corban.”

  How did Kimble know what my father’s intentions were? “What are you talking about?”

  “Trust me. Stay away from Knight Corban. I won’t keep your secret next time.”

  I spun, placing my feet on the hot concrete. I rose slowly. I was certain I saw Kimble’s eyes drag over my body.

  “Why even tell me that?” I pressed.

  “I probably shouldn’t have.”

  But he did. “Thanks.” I slinked past him, hauling my pool bag with me. “What’s the other guy’s name? The other one who is on my detail?”

  “Joseph?”

  “Yeah. Him. Does he know I got past you last night?” I was curious.

  Kimble didn’t answer.

  I giggled. “I guess I’ll keep that to myself then.”

  As I wandered through the house, I passed my father’s room. The door was closed. I leaned in slightly, but it was quiet. I hesitated. I could knock, but something stopped me. I decided I’d check on him after my shower. I didn’t need a lecture on my bikini. Or how I wasted precious time sitting by the pool.

  When I turned, I spotted the oil portrait of my mother hanging across the hall from his door. He said he liked to see her every morning when he left for work and when he returned at the end of the day.

  I stared at her expression. I wondered what was behind it. Was it love? Admiration? Resentment? I knew very little about her. Most of the stories I created about my mother’s life revolved around this single portrait. It was the only display of her in the house.

  What would she say now? Would she support my father? Those were questions I had asked a thousand times. Did she agree with how he used me? Did she think my value was tied to what family he could position me with? I walked away from her gaze, knowing I’d never have the answers.

  It was another two days before I saw my father. He had turned me away every time I knocked on the door. This time, I took reinforcements.

  Kimble used the key he had been given for emergencies and let me in my father’s bedroom.

  “Dad?” I tiptoed, then hurried next to him. He was hunched over, coughing.

  He pushed my arm away. “How did you get in?”

  Kimble was standing in the doorway. His hulking figure loomed behind us.

  “We were worried. I haven’t seen you. You aren’t taking calls or meetings.” The fact that it was the weekend, didn’t have any bearing on whether my father continued business as usual.

  I glanced at the rows of pill bottles lined up on his nightstand. “What’s all this?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “It’s for the cough. So, I sleep at night.”

  It was the first time I felt a buzz in the back of my head. An alarm bell. Something was wrong. It wasn’t bronchitis. I nodded at Kimble to step out of the room.

  “Dad, I think I need to get you in to see your doctor,” I urged.

  “No,” he snapped. “Kennedy, I’m fine.” He wobbled to his feet, and I moved out of his way. I didn’t say a word when he grabbed the doorframe to the bathroom to steady himself.

  “What are you doing? Where are you going?”

  “I have a meeting. I’m going to get ready.”

  His silk striped pajamas looked like they had been worn for days. His cheeks were sallow. His voice scratchy and soft.

  “I think you need to rest some more. Can’t you reschedule the meeting?” I pleaded, surprised at the rising panic in my chest.

  His knuckles turned white as he pivoted toward me without letting go of the arch. “Business continues whether I have a cold or not.”

  “It’s not a cold,” I argued. “You can barely stand.”

  He closed his eyes. But before he could fire back at me, I saw his knees buckle. I rushed toward him. “Dad!” I caught him before he slumped to the floor.

  He groaned. It took all my strength to maneuver him back to the bed.

  “Just leave me alone, Kennedy.” He swatted at me when I pulled the comforter to his chest.

  I placed my hands on my hips. “You need to cancel the meeting. I need to call a doctor for you.”

  His tired eyes lifted. “I can’t cancel the meeting.”

  “You can’t see anyone like this. They’ll take one look at you and think you’re on your deathbed.”

  Something in his eyes shifted and I felt the zing again. What the hell was going on?

  “You’re still a child.” Insulting me wasn’t going to work.

  “Far from it. What can I do to convince you to stay in bed, or at least call a doctor?” He didn’t have the strength to make it to the shower. He would collapse before taking the first step on the staircase.

  He grumbled and coughed again. I waited.

  “You say you’re not a child. Prove it.” His voice was strained, but it was still sharp.

  I folded my arms. “What does that mean? Anyone would take one look at you and tell you the same thing I’m telling you. You should not work today. Probably not for a while. You can call me names. I’m not wrong. You have to cancel the meeting. Reschedule it.”

  “This is why you’re a child,” he seethed. “You don’t understand what’s behind everything I do.”

  “Enlighten me.”

  “Our name is our legacy. I’ve tried to teach you that since you were born. We have our name. Sometimes that’s all we have.” He reached for a glass of water. “You take the meeting.”

  I blinked. “What?”

  He nodded. “It’s time you start training. I let you go to college. I’ve let you have a regular life. But our expansion in New Orleans needs complete focus. We could do this together, Kennedy.”

  I had never been privy to his business plans.

  “What’s the meeting about?” I dragged a chair across the floor to sit close to him.

  “One of the well-established families has made an invitation. It would be suicide to reschedule.”

  “You’re trying to impress them, or they are trying to impress you?”

  He growled. “Are you able to take this seriously?”

  “Yes,
of course I am. I’m just trying to understand all the angles.”

  “At least you’ve learned to size up the competition.”

  “If I take this meeting for you, will you promise to rest?” I asked. “Otherwise, I’m not doing it and I’ll call an ambulance if I have to.” It was the first time I had threatened my father with something I could actually follow through on.

  “No ambulance.” His eyes hardened. “Yes, I’ll stay here. You go. Take the meeting.”

  “We have a deal.” I smiled softly. He closed his eyes from exhaustion. Had he been suffering up here for days while I lounged at the pool and went boutique shopping? When did he acquire all the pill bottles? I thought about my conversation with Kimble a few days ago.

  “Good.” He nodded. “I’m going to tell you exactly what to say.”

  “You don’t trust me to handle the meeting on my own?”

  He glared at me. “I will give you the script.”

  “Fine,” I relented. “Tell me what to say.”

  “Kimble will take you to and from the meeting. You stay exactly twenty minutes.”

  “Twenty minutes?” I questioned.

  “Yes. It shows interest, but it also shows you are busy. Your time is valuable, Kennedy.”

  I nodded. “Okay, got it. In and out in twenty minutes.” The meeting seemed more doable. The time limit took the edge off.

  “Do not mention my health.” It was a warning.

  “I won’t, but what do you want me to say when I show up instead of you? I think it will be obvious something is wrong.”

  I could tell he was thinking through the strategy. He wouldn’t want to insult the family. He wouldn’t want to be caught in a lie.

  “Tell them I was called to Philadelphia for a family emergency that couldn’t be helped.”

  I peered at him. “What was it?”

  “What?”

  “The emergency,” I pressed.

  He waved his hand in the air. “He won’t ask.”

  I didn’t believe him. People were curious. They always had questions, and more questions on top of those.