by B. B. Hamel
“Where exactly is here? I know we’re in some big, fancy house, but maybe you could give me some GPS coordinates or something. You know, just for my files. And by the way, I didn’t have any choice in the matter.”
He let out a sharp breath and glared. “This is where I grew up.” He stepped closer and his face hardened, icing over so fast it left me breathless. “If you make trouble for my sisters, I will rip out your fucking throat and feed your corpse to the pigs. Do you understand?”
I blinked slowly. I thought Darren was supposed to be a good guy. “You have pigs?”
“Two. They’re surprisingly smart.” He loomed over me and gestured with his head toward my room. “Get inside. Let’s talk.”
I opened my mouth to argue—but felt too weak and drained to bother.
Might as well hear what the bastard had to say.
I pushed past him, my shoulder brushing against his arm like caressing stone, then shoved into the room.
He followed and closed the door behind him.
2
Winter
Darren gestured toward the bed, and for one second, I stood there, eyebrow arched, staring at him.
His face darkened. “Sit, please.” He grabbed one of the chairs in front of the fireplace and turned it around.
“I’m not sure I’m comfortable being anywhere near a bed right now.”
“If I wanted that, I’d take it from you.” His voice was annoyed, and his face was scrunched up as if he smelled something distasteful. “Now please, sit down so we can talk.”
I decided not to push this too hard. I was still exhausted and light-headed from whatever drug he’d used to knock me out, and if I was honest with myself, I really needed to rest.
I sat on the end of the bed. My feet swung in the air a few inches off the floor, and I felt like a little girl as Darren sat and crossed his legs.
I held up a hand before he could launch into what I assumed would be a fantastic speech. “Is this the part where you tell me that if I don’t obey your every command, you’ll take me over your knee and spank me? Because I’m pretty sure that’s not going to be much of a deterrent.”
“You’ve never been kidnapped before, I take it.”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Typically, the punishments are much more severe.” He rubbed his eyes with one hand. “In this case, however, I plan on keeping you as whole as I can.”
“That’s… good, I think.”
“It’s better than the alternative. So no, you won’t be spanked, but you will lose privileges.”
I tilted my head, frowning. “Privileges?”
“Access. Comforts.” He gestured at the room. “This is a privilege. That bathroom is a privilege. Your ability to walk out into the hall is a privilege. If you break my rules and make this arrangement difficult, then I will take those rights away one by one until you’re left in a cage in the darkness.” He leaned forward, eyes hard. “I don’t need you comfortable, love. I need you alive.”
I shivered at that word. Love.
It made me think of the first time we’d met, back at my apartment. He’d sat in a chair just like he was now, exuding confidence, except this time he looked more frustrated than amused, and this time he didn’t have a gun at hand.
Though he probably had one nearby.
Not that he needed it.
The threat of more restrictions was a shotgun aimed at my skull.
“Penny said you didn’t have a murder basement.”
“Penny was correct, if a little presumptuous. Our basement is used for storage, and I’d be happy to store you down there, too.”
I drummed my fingers on my knees. “What do you want from me? What are these stupid rules?”
He held up a finger. God, I hated that. What a dick.
“First rule. Do not leave the house unaccompanied. That includes trying to escape.”
“Fine. No running.”
“You will have access to the grounds, but my men will escort you whenever you’re outdoors.”
That was surprisingly fair. “What else?”
He held up a second finger. I wanted to cut them off with a rusty chainsaw.
“You cannot attempt to contact the outside world. You will be tempted. This is a house, after all, and there are phones everywhere. But know that they are all monitored and none of them have a direct line, and if you do somehow get your hands on a computer, or a cell, or anything with a connection that I can’t directly control, I will find out, and I will make your life hell. Do you understand?”
I rolled my eyes and waved a hand in the air. “Fine, sure, no calling in the cavalry or whatever. Get to the good stuff.”
He smiled and held up a third finger. “Last rule. You will not threaten or hurt anyone in this house.” He stared for several long heartbeats. “Especially not my sisters or my brother. If you speak to them out of line, if you make them uncomfortable, if you so much as touch them the wrong way, I will bury you.”
I let out a slow breath. So Darren was protective of his siblings. Very interesting. He didn’t strike me as a family man, but I’d been wrong about people in the past, and I could easily be wrong about him.
“I like Penny. I don’t plan on doing anything to her. And I didn’t know you had a brother.”
“Anthony. Younger.” He gave me a flat stare. “You might change your mind one day and think you can use them against me, but of all my rules, this one will carry the most severe penalty.” He tilted his head, and a dark smile graced those annoyingly perfect lips. “Maybe I’ll turn the downstairs into a murder basement after all, just for you.”
“You’ve threatened to kill me twice and said that you need me alive at least once, so I’m feeling a bit of whiplash.”
“Good.” He stood up. “That’s everything. I will provide clothes and necessities. Food will be delivered at noon and at seven. You may use that phone to call down to the kitchen for anything else you might need.”
“Do you live in a five-star hotel or something?” I grimaced and held up a hand. “Don’t answer that. I know how rich people live.”
He laughed and sounded genuinely delighted. “You do, don’t you? Winter Kresswell. Or I suppose I should call you Spring Kane.”
I leaned back as if kicked in the chest.
That damn name.
I hadn’t been sure if he knew who I was yet. I’d worked hard to distance myself from that god-awful nightmarish last name—new papers, new identity. Some forged, most of it legal. I’d stayed away from my old world and lived off whatever money I’d been able to pull out of my trust fund before disappearing to Sea Isle.
Of course, that hadn’t been foolproof. It had been enough to keep people like Cassie in the dark—but men like Darren?
I had no chance.
He knew the truth.
And it still sent a shiver of rage down my legs.
“You don’t know a goddamn thing about me.”
“I know your father is Jason Kane. I know your real name is Spring Kane. I know most of the world thinks you’re dead, or at least thinks you disappeared years ago. I learned a lot more about you than you know about me, love.”
I clenched my jaw tight. I hated him for saying that name and despised him for digging into my past.
I wasn’t that girl anymore.
Spring was dead and buried. I’d left her behind the day I decided to turn my back on my old life and start fresh somewhere else.
“Don’t call me that ever again.” The words came out choked.
He picked up on the anger. I tried to hide the quaver in my voice but couldn’t.
“Spring. You don’t like it? I’ll admit, it doesn’t suit you.”
“I’m Winter now.”
“Legally, that’s true. But can you ever escape who you are?”
I stood up, shaking with rage. “What the hell do you think you know about me, you bastard? Why do you even care? I’m just some tool for you in your little game. My old name doesn’t
matter anymore.”
“That’s correct.” He came toward me. I balled my hands into fists and glared at him, not backing down. It didn’t matter if I was one breath away from toppling over. “The only reason you’re here is because I find you useful. Holding you will ensure Roman can’t get too aggressive, not if he wants to keep you living, and I know he does. His new little wife will be too upset if he lets you get killed.”
“Then leave my past alone. If I’m a pawn, then treat me like one.”
He stood over me like a conquering hero, like an emperor parading in front of his legions. I hated the pure smarmy confidence that rolled off every movement like spice in the air. He smelled like leather and pine, and his clothes hugged his muscular, athletic torso, accentuating his build like a panther.
I hated him even more than before.
“Unfortunately for both of us, your father has some power in this world. Jason Kane might be a jumped-up nobody, but his fund includes some big names.” He showed his teeth. Not quite a smile. More like a jackal at breakfast. “I might even have some cash tucked away with him.”
I felt like I might be sick. “I have nothing to do with the Kane family anymore.”
“But you do. You’re the prodigal daughter, and I suspect he’d be very interested in making some kind of deal with me in exchange for your return.”
I leaned back and met his eyes.
And laughed.
He seemed taken aback. But I couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up from my stomach. God, it felt good to let it out, and I nearly doubled over. Tears sprang to my eyes, embarrassing tears, but happy tears.
“Oh my god,” I said, barely able to catch my breath. “You think Jason gives a shit about me. You actually think he wants me back.”
A moment of uncertainty. “You’re his daughter. He said—”
“He gave some bullshit media interviews. You bought the distraught daddy act?”
“You disappeared.”
“I stole money from my trust fund and told him to go fuck off. But that was too embarrassing, so he spun some media story about me disappearing.”
It hadn’t been funny at the time. My first few weeks in Sea Isle had been spent hiding away in that apartment, afraid to step outside because my face was plastered all over the news. Eventually, the attention had died down, but I’d had to cut my hair, change the color, and wear lots of makeup for months before I’d felt comfortable looking like myself again.
Jason had done it all to save face. He couldn’t have a rebellious daughter, not in his world.
It was better if I were dead. So he killed me.
At least publicly, anyway.
Privately, I was very much alive, and he left me alone so long as I kept up the fiction.
New name, new life, no connections to that existence.
It worked for both of us. He got to play the grief card and get plenty of sympathy, and I got to stay far, far away from that lying sack of selfish shit.
Darren didn’t know. Of course he didn’t know.
But that he didn’t suspect—
That was interesting.
It said something about how he viewed family.
Darren scowled. “It was all bullshit. He was in on your disappearance.”
“No, not in on it. He knew, and he decided it was better if I didn’t exist anymore, so he killed me off.”
He turned and strode away, pacing across the room. I watched him with an amused smile. I was exhausted, and all I wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep some more, but I liked watching him spin around like a hamster in a ball.
“This doesn’t change anything,” he said as he nodded to himself and stopped moving. He gazed at me with something like defiance and desire, and I wasn’t sure what pleased me more. “Your father’s still powerful, and this little secret can work to my advantage. Instead of playing to his sense of familial duty, I’ll blackmail the fucker until I get what I want.”
My jaw dropped. “You’ll what?”
“He doesn’t want the real story about what happened to you getting out into the world, does he? You just provided me with the perfect leverage.”
I had no clue what to say.
He was right.
God, I could be so impulsive sometimes.
I’d been so excited to get one over on him that I hadn’t thought about the consequences. My story had been meant to make him feel stupid or foolish, and maybe he had—for a few seconds.
But he’d already figured out a way to use it against me.
Darren was good. Very, very good. I had to be more careful if I wanted to get out of this in one piece.
“What could you possibly want from my father? All he has is money, but you have plenty of that already.”
“I don’t know yet,” he said, hovering near the doorway. “And don’t worry, I won’t tell you when I decide.” He turned the knob, stepped onto the threshold. “Remember my rules. Welcome to Servant Manor, love. You’ll enjoy your stay. I’ll make sure of it.” He smiled, genuine again, and disappeared into the hall, shutting the door behind him.
I felt his absence like a vacuum down my throat.
That conversation had exhausted me. Trying to keep up and outmaneuver him had cost too much energy and hadn’t done a damn thing to help in the end. I crawled into bed and tugged the sheets over my head.
Spring Kane was dead. I’d drowned her in the ocean and came back out Winter Kresswell.
I was Winter. I would always be Winter.
Your past always claws you back, baby.
3
Winter
My mom stared out from the window of the van. Black tears streaked her cheeks. She always wore too much eyeliner. I took a few steps forward, but my father caught my wrist.
“Let her go.” He didn’t look down at me. His smile said it all.
“When will she come back?” I knew better than to rip my hand free.
He held on tight. “When she’s ready. I told you, she’s sick and we need to make her better.” His smile grew larger. “It may take years, Spring.”
“Where’s she going? To the hospital?”
“It’s a rehabilitation clinic. When she’s better, she’ll come home. Or perhaps she won’t.”
The van pulled away. My father released my arm and turned to the house.
“What do you mean, she might not come back?” I tried not to cry. It only made him angrier when I cried. Even at ten, I was smart enough to know what kind of man my father was. “She said she’d come home. She said she would.”
“Your mother says a lot of things and very few of them are true.” He pushed open the front door. “She’s an addict, Spring. I suppose you don’t know what that means, but you will one day. Addiction is a disease, and one that can’t ever be cured. I will not have that disease spreading in my house. You’ll understand when you’re older. Now come inside before you embarrass me.”
The van rolled down the driveway.
I turned away and followed my father.
I woke to a pounding at the door.
Familiar room. It took me a few seconds to understand where I was.
The clock said seven.
“Come in,” I croaked. My voice was still rough, but I felt better—a lot better.
A tall, dark woman walked into the room carrying a dinner tray. Her skin was smooth and flawless, her cheekbones high, her eyes round and deep brown. Her hair was cut close to her scalp. Her limbs were long and lean, and she wore a simple outfit of white slacks and a navy button-down blouse.
She looked at me with disdain as she placed the tray on the coffee table in front of the fireplace.
I knew that look. All my father’s longtime staff looked at me like that.
“My name is Chika.” The woman straightened and folded her hands in front of her as she stared at me.
She was beautiful. It was disconcerting. I sat up, trying to blink away the sleep. Her full lips tugged down deeper as I took down my messy hair and ran m
y fingers through it. I shouldn’t have slept in a bun.
“Nice to meet you, Chika. Let me guess. You work here.”
“Very perceptive.” She didn’t smile, and it didn’t sound like a compliment. “I’m the head of the Servant Manor staff and assistant to Mrs. Servant. If you need something, you may come to me.”
“Darren didn’t mention you.”
“He wouldn’t. I’m not his creature.”
I raised my eyebrows. Interesting. Strife in the Servant home.
“I’m not his creature either.”
That seemed to soften her a bit. Her icy stare melted to frost cold instead of glacier frozen. “While you’re in this house, you’re under my care. If you need something, you can reach me via the phone system. I have instructions to ensure you do not leave the building unattended and do not attempt to contact the outside world.”
“So you’re down with the kidnapping thing too, huh?”
“It’s hard to work for the Servant family without having a flexible moral compass.”
I snorted a laugh. “That’s fair, I guess.”
“I was told to give you a tour, but you can eat first if you’re hungry.”
I glanced toward the tray. Rice and beans and some kind of gravy-drenched meat—probably chicken. My stomach rumbled. “A tour would be good.”
“First, we must do this.” She walked over to me and took something round and black from her back pocket.
I hopped out of bed. I was still wearing the same clothes—a white T-shirt and cutoff jeans over a bikini. I felt disgusting, but nobody seemed to care, and my physical grossness was a nice fuck-you to Darren, so that was nice at least.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“It’s a bracelet. You must wear it while you’re here.”
“No, thanks. I’m not a bracelet sort of girl.”
“Darren instructed me to make sure you put this on, and to force it around your ankle if necessary.”
I took a step back. Chika radiated determined anger. She was a good six inches taller than me and could probably throw me out a window if she wanted.
