Vanquish (Deliver 2)

Folding her hands on the table, she appraised him with God-knew-what swirling in her dark brown eyes. Her hair was shorter now, shoulder-length and fringed around her pale face. She was still beautiful. In an inhuman, callous kind of way.

Once upon a time, he'd been turned on by the perplexity of her masked expressions. Now, he felt strained to his limits. A twinge lit behind his eyes.

She tilted her head. “I see you haven't lost the toothpick.”

He rolled it between his lips and grinned. “I see you haven't lost your puppy.” He glanced at Joshua's scowl and back at her.

“Where's the hoodie?” The bubbled pink gash on her cheek moved with her lips.

His own scar itched, but not with the same tingling connection he'd once felt. Maybe he'd imagined that bond. Perhaps their shared pain hadn't really been shared at all. He slid a palm down his tie and tapped the heel of his leather loafer beneath the table. Fuck, he was sweating already. He needed to lose the jacket. “People change.”

She held herself so impassive, so stock-still, one might question if she were breathing. “Why are you here?”

Typical Liv, skipping past friendliness and shoving straight to the facts. He could only blame himself for her coldness. Beneath that defensive shield lay the warm and caring woman she was, the girl who existed before he’d taken her.

The year that separated them should’ve tempered her visage, and maybe it had. Most likely, she wore her protective mask now because of him. His stomach sank. He was there to change that.

“I've stumbled upon something incredible” —someone with a wealth of spirit and strength, someone he hadn’t ruined— “that has put all my mistakes in perspective. I've found a reason to try harder. To be a better man.” Ah, there it was. A flicker of warmth beneath her frozen face. “I know I'll be a good father.”

Her thawing expression hardened into ice. “Absolutely not.”

Joshua grabbed her folded hands and squeezed. “Hear him out, Liv.” Green eyes locked with his. “You found someone?”

More like she found him. His very soul lay in the palms of her bound hands. He nodded. “I love her.”

Liv's lips twitched, barely a tic, but it could've been a smile. “Does she know what you've done? Did you tell her about us, all nine of us, and your father?”

He tapped the toothpick with his tongue and reclined against the seat back. “She knows everything.”

“I'm happy for you, Van.” It was undetectable in her tone, but a glimmer of sincerity touched her eyes. Then it was gone. “If she loves you in return.”

“She loves me.”

“So where is she? You're hardly a man who would leave his girl unattended. Why isn't she with you?” Her emotionless voice set his molars together. Worse was the diligence in her questioning. She didn't believe the relationship was consensual. She would’ve been right two months ago.

He held her unwavering gaze. “She's agoraphobic. She can't leave the house.”

“Convenient.” She inhaled a subtle breath, and her tone hardened. “Cut the crap, Van. No manipulations. No bullshit. Tell me what you want.”

He held his hands still on his lap and maintained strong eye contact. If he showed any sign of nervousness, she'd jump on it. “I want to meet Livana. Take me with you on one of your visitations.”

Joshua bent forward, his dark brows lowering over narrowed eyes. “You know about the visitations? You've been watching Liv?”

“Of course he has.” Liv stared back without a hint of surprise on her face. She was smart. She had to have known or at least suspected. “Stalking and abducting is what he does.”

His cheeks burned, and his body tensed. Yeah, he had been stalking. “She's my daughter, too.” How could he explain?

“Do you have someone tied up in your house right now?” she asked.

Fuck yes, and he was two seconds from shoving out of there to be with the one person who had faith in him.

She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “How many times a day do you beat her and make her suck your cock?”

He launched toward her, mirroring her pose. “Asks the hypocrite who fucks her slave boy on the kitchen table with a strap-on.”

She put a hand on Joshua’s suddenly heaving chest and sat back with a satisfied smile. “Only one way you'd know that. Some people don't change.”

The toothpick snapped between his teeth. He spit it on the floor and faced her again. “Come to my house. You can meet my girlfriend. She'll validate everything I've said.”

A waitress appeared at the table, beaming a smile at Liv. “That was an incredible performance, Miss Reed. The manager wants to meet with you before you leave to discuss a regular schedule.”

Liv nodded. “Thank you.”

“Can I get y'all any drinks?”

“No, we're good. Thanks.” Joshua waved her off and folded his forearms on the table. “Why on earth do you think I'd ever allow Liv to step foot in your house?” He continued in a harsh whisper. “You blackmailed her for seven years. Beat her. Raped her. Gave her no choice but to train and sell slaves.” His voice pitched in a state of disbelief. “You kept her daughter from her.”

“Besides that,” Liv cut in, “Van has a talent for training people to obey. I'm sure a sweet submissive girlfriend would say just about anything.”

He tightened his fists beneath the table and whispered furiously, “That's logical if I were trying to con anyone else. But you have both been there. You'd recognize coercion from a mile away.” He turned to Joshua. “And you read people better than anyone I know.” He flicked a hand at Liv. “If you can see through her fucking masks, you should damn well be able to see through mine and my girlfriend's.”

His former slaves stared at him with furrowed brows as if they were considering his words.

“I'm just asking for a chance.” His words rushed forth with the pump of his heart. “I've done some horrible things, and I want a chance to protect her from the kind of man I used to be. I grew up without a father's love, and I want to fucking be there to give her that.”

Their silence wore on. He scrubbed his hands over his face, and when he looked up, her expression sent a chill down his spine. Not her usual detached frigidness. In its place were soft, sympathetic features that didn't belong there. He didn't want her looking at him like that. She was about to break his heart, and he couldn't bear to hear it.

“No,” she said. One soft, excruciating word.

The pain exploded in his chest, and he struggled to breathe through it.

She wasn't done. “You coerced me for seven years, and I let you. But this isn't about me. It's about Livana. I can't let you” —her breath hitched, and her jaw stiffened— “I won't allow you to fuck with her.”

“Liv, I would never—”

“If you go near her, I won't involve the authorities.” Her eyes blazed with rage. “I'll kill you myself, and when I dispose of your body, no one will ever find it.”

His heart pounded, and his stomach soured with regret. He'd told her the same thing once.

Her voice dropped to a heartless rasp. “You know why?”

The answer he’d given her a year ago about her own death crawled from his thick throat. “Because no one will care enough to search for it.” Or wouldn’t be able to cross the porch to search for it.

Joshua wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She leaned against his chest, her eyes closing not with satisfaction but with heavy sadness.

He should've stood and walked out of there, but he needed to know his options. “You won't kill me.”

Her eyes flew open. “No? How do you think I freed eight slaves and ended your father's operation?”

The real question was how she disposed of the buyers’ bodies. “How did you come by your cartel connections? It was Camila, wasn't it?”

He hadn't been able to confirm the connections, let alone link them to the first slave they'd kidnapped together. But her averted gaze validated it.

Fuck.

/>

Liv had cartel connections through Camila. If he approached Livana, he was a dead man. His pulse thrashed, and he yanked at his collar. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuck!

He felt sick, his throat tightening. He reached for the paper bag beside him, removed the doll with a shaking hand, and held it out. “My girlfriend and I made this. Will you give it to Livana?”

She cringed. “Ugh, you still have those things?” Her face distorted with disgust as she climbed over Joshua's lap and strode away.

Fucking moronic how he’d thought bringing a doll to the meeting in place of Amber could’ve proved anything. Didn’t matter that it was handcrafted, beautifully detailed, and made with so much goddamned hope. His daughter would never see it. His gut clenched.

Joshua gave him a pitying look. “Van...”

Fuck him. He shoved the doll back into the bag and got the fuck out of there.

The leaded weight of his feet dragged through the parking lot, the humid air pushing down on his shoulders. When he reached the Mustang, he stripped the jacket and tossed it in the back seat. With his hands clenched around the wheel and the doll in his lap, the weight of the night came surging in, burning his eyes, clotting his throat, and filling up every splintered crack inside him with thick, oily crap. Yet he felt so fucking empty.

He opened the glove box and shoved the doll inside. Then he slammed it shut and numbly stared at the closed door.