“No, I can’t show weakness.”
I study his eye; it doesn’t look too bad right now. But it will swell up and blacken my morning.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“Why are you sorry? You weren’t the one who hit me. I just didn’t realize you and Enzo had gotten so serious so fast. Enzo isn’t exactly the dating type.”
I snort. “We aren’t together.”
Langston frowns as his eyes dart around the room at men who are most likely listening to our conversation. “Follow me.”
He walks down a hallway to a locked door, buried in the depths of the club, but not as far as Enzo’s office. Langston unlocks the door and then steps inside. I follow while keeping my distance. I shut the door behind me.
The room is small compared to Enzo’s office, but Langston’s office appears more for regular work than Enzo’s. Langston’s has a desk, laptop, papers, and a small seating area. But Langston doesn’t sit down. Instead, he walks over to a mini-fridge in the corner where there is a bar setup. He opens the freezer and pulls out a bag of peas, placing it over his eye.
I try to hide my smile, but I can’t. “You a big fan of peas or does this happen often?”
He walks over to the rolling chair behind his desk and slumps down, as he continues to hold the frozen peas to his face.
“In my line of work, this happens often—although Enzo isn’t usually the one throwing the punches at me.” Langston pauses, studying me as if trying to understand who I am and what I’m doing in here.
“Should I call you Katherine or Kai?”
I shrug. “Ask Enzo.”
My feet are aching from standing, and the only seats in the room are the small couches in the corner, not close enough to talk to Langston. He notices my stares and gets up from behind his desk; he collapses down on one of the couches in a lump of pain. His head is obviously throbbing. He wouldn’t crumble in such exhaustion from a simple punch if it didn’t have force behind it. I know the difference between a weak punch and one with the full weight of a body behind it.
I walk to the other couch, but I’m not used to my heels and my feet are already twinging. I step, and the heel moves out from under me, causing me to stumble.
Langston reaches his arm out to catch me. I see it the split second before I would crash into his hand. But I can’t let him touch me. I contort my body and fall away from his hand to the floor.
We both stare openly at my reaction to his almost touch.
“What is going on? Why don’t you like to be touched?”
My eyes drift down to the now visible marks on my arms and chest, my clothes not hiding them this time. This time when I entered this club, I didn’t want to hide behind my clothes.
“You know why. You saw me that day naked. You saw how br
oken my body was and how it continues to be. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that I don’t like to be touched.”
“No, I guess not. It still doesn’t explain who you are or what you are doing in Enzo’s life.”
I settle myself on the floor and lean against the couch rather than sitting on it. The floor is more comfortable for me anyway.
“If you figure out what I’m doing here, let me know.”
Langston continues to study me with his one good eye. “Enzo and I have been friends a long time. We’ve both taken bullets for each other. Committed the worst sins together. Trust me; I will learn why you are here. So you might as well tell me now and save me the trouble.”
I cross my arms as anger floods my eyes. “You want to know what I’m doing here! It started six years ago. Enzo was looking for someone by the name of Kai Miller. Me. He was sent by his father to kill me. Except when it came down to it, he couldn’t do it. He didn’t kill me. Instead, he had me kidnapped and sold. A few weeks ago, I was returned to Miami. I was pissed and went in search of Enzo. I wanted to know why. We played a game of truth or lies. I lost. Now I’m forced to live my life as his prisoner. That’s why I’m here, because I lost a stupid game. And I will never understand why.”
Langston freezes as I tell my tale. I hope he has the answers. He will be able to tell me why, if he knows Enzo as well as he claims. Langston should know why Enzo’s father ordered him to kill me.
Langston’s mouth eventually drops as he realizes the truth. He knows my answers.
“Why? Why was I ordered to be killed?”
A knock followed by a head poking through the door halts our conversation.