The Pawn (Endgame 1)

A low laugh fills the space, darker and with more grit than I expect. “He went downstairs,” says an unfamiliar voice.

Fear spikes in my chest. “Oh. I’ll go look for him.”

“You should be running the other way.”

I take a step toward the stairs, backing away. I know that Gabriel isn’t safe. He has a reason to hurt me. But something about this man makes my blood turn to ice.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say, squinting to make out his features. All I can see is pale hair and pale eyes.

“In fact, you ought to be running far away. The James family isn’t welcome in this city anymore. Or haven’t you figured that out yet?”

Old loyalty sparks anger inside me. “I’m very aware of my family’s standing in Tanglewood. That’s the reason I’m in this mess.”

“Sex for money. I guess it’s more honest work than your daddy did, but just as dirty.”

I flinch in the darkness. Something in his voice sounds personal. “What do you know about what my daddy did?”

“Your father stole from Gabriel Miller, and nobody gets away with that. That’s why he got knocked down. But Gabriel wasn’t the only person he stole from.”

And all those men would want to hurt my dad. “He isn’t stealing from anyone anymore.”

In the shadows I see a broad shoulder shrug. “Doesn’t make people whole again, does it? Though I suppose if they had you in their beds, taking the money out on your skin, that might make them feel better.”

Fear is a finger down my spine, making my whole body shudder. I spin away from him and fly down the wooden stairs, heart pounding wildly. Part of me expects him to follow, and I speed up in anticipation of a hand on my shoulder, a fist in my hair.

Then I’m in the wide foyer, warmly lit by lamps along the wall. Safe.

Except safety is only an illusion when I’m in the Den.

Gabriel waits for me in the cozy leather chair where Damon was sitting last time. There’s a glass in his hand, half-full, and he watches me with an unreadable expression.

I meant to question him carefully, but all my caution has evaporated. “Did you send someone to my house last night?”

For a moment he’s so still I think he hasn’t heard me. Then he leans forward, setting the glass on the table. “Someone came to your house?”

Of course a man like him would be an accomplished liar. I have to be smarter than him. Except if he did send someone, what could I do about it? The police were useless. “I surprised him when he was tampering with my electrical box. He left before the police came. Was it you?”

He speaks slowly, as if wondering the answer himself. “Why would I tamper with your electrical box?”

The shame of undressing upstairs mixes with my fear of the unnamed man. Something inside me snaps, pooling tears in my eyes. “To scare me. To hurt me. For the same reason you turned my father in.”

His expression darkens. “Your father stole from me.”

“Did you get your money back?” I ask tightly.

“No, but it wasn’t about that. I made an example out of him.”

My heart squeezes as I remember my dad’s rasping breath. “Right, except I’m the one giving up my friends, my future. I’m the one who’s going to be auctioned off.”

He frowns. “Did you get a look at the man’s face?”

“He was wearing a hoodie.” I did get a feel for his build, his gait. Could he have been Gabriel Miller? Could he have been the man upstairs? Even if he wasn’t either of them, he could have been sent by them.

“Someone will guard the house tonight,” he says casually as if I should take his innocence for granted. He’s anything but innocent. “If he comes back, we’ll catch him.”

My eyes narrow. “Why would you do that for me?”

One dark eyebrow rises. “Damon is going to make a lot of money on your auction. He’s going to want to protect his investment.”

Of course. I have become a product. My security would be a safe around a diamond, meant to keep me away from other men. Only, the most dangerous men in the city have the combination. It isn’t protection at all. It’s a cage.

I leave without another word, stomach tight until I’m back in my house with the door locked. I take a shower, trying to wash away the shame of their gazes on my skin, the light touch of Gabriel’s hands on my arms. No matter how hard I scrub, I can still feel him.Chapter SevenOver the weeks since my father came home from the hospital, I’ve fallen into a routine. I check my father’s vitals in the morning and change his bedding, which he mostly sleeps through. Then at midday I come and bring him lunch. That’s the best chance I have to catch him awake. He can only handle liquids—warm soup and cold pudding. Sometimes he can stomach a few bites.