Blackbird (Redemption 1)

“I have had fourteen girls in all . . . she was technically the fourth, but I kept her on a pedestal as if she were my first,” he called out to my back. “From the beginning she captivated me, and I didn’t care to hide it even though I knew it was against our way. She had just told me she was expecting a child the night the house was attacked. I wasn’t home to protect her.”

I stopped and looked at him but didn’t know what to do when he was so close to losing his grip on his calm. In the years I’d been with him, I’d never seen him like that.

“They didn’t go after anything in the house or anyone else. Just her. They knew what she meant, and I knew it was one of our own. They announced themselves by heartbeat,” he said on a growl.

I blinked slowly and had to force myself to ignore the pain in my chest for William . . . for an innocent girl none of us had protected.

Knocking on a door in the rhythm of a beating heart was something I’d quickly learned the men in this world used to announce themselves to those who broke too many rules and were becoming threats to the way we lived. Whether it was torture or death—usually the latter—nothing good ever followed a heartbeat.

“Who was she?” I asked. “What was her name?”

“We do not speak it.”

I nodded, knowing I should have expected that.

“You reminded me of her—you could have easily been her son for how much you look like her. The first time I saw you, I wondered if you had been sent to torment me. But the more I saw you, the more I realized what an asset you could be to me. Then you proved to be valuable in this life and in the company, and were a reminder of the time I had with her . . .”

“Watch your words, William, you’re sounding like you could actually care about something other than yourself, and dying isn’t something I want to do today.”

Again, he continued like I hadn’t spoken. “I just hadn’t realized you would screw everything up so greatly with a girl.”

My lip curled and my tone darkened. “Not as bad as some, apparently, considering my house hasn’t been raided, and my girl is still alive.”

His eyes narrowed, and he sucked in a breath through his teeth so quickly that it sounded like a hiss. “You cannot keep her,” he barked when I began walking away, and hurried to catch up with me. Grabbing my shoulder, he flung me back and stood in my way. “Do you see what they will do to her, and in turn, to you?”

Fear of something happening to my blackbird swirled with my anger, but I didn’t know how to live without her—didn’t know how to let her go.

Ice-cold fear had gripped my spine the day someone had messaged her, and I knew that wasn’t the worst we could face . . . not by a fraction. But all that day had done was force me to keep her closer rather than push her back like it should have.

Holding William’s glare, I stated, “It’s not your decision to make at this point. Briar isn’t going anywhere.”

And like his pain had never been there, suddenly his blank, indifferent stare was back. “Well, I’m not so sure about that.”

My heart skipped painful beats, and when I spoke again my tone was lethal. “Care to explain?”

“Curious to find she uses your computer,” he said casually. “That shouldn’t be allowed in the first year, maybe not even in the second or third.”

I stilled with my hands in my pockets as my mind raced. Briar knew not to respond to the e-mails to William’s women, and I knew she hadn’t before today. I had the urge to grab my phone to see if the conversation with them had continued but didn’t move as I thought of the last time Briar had been around the women and what she might have said, and then the man who had found Briar . . .

Suspicion and rage made my chest rise and fall roughly while my heart took off in a dead sprint as I studied William’s knowing look.

“I’ll give it to you that she is loyal, Lucas, but we both know it isn’t for the right reasons. That girl fell in love with you and would have eventually been used against you. Best to end things this way before it went too far with a certain miss Briar Rose Chapman.”

My blood ran cold as those words—her name—left the man before me. A full name he shouldn’t—couldn’t—know.

“How do . . . wait, would have . . .” My stomach dropped. “William, what did you do?”

“You will thank my one day,” he assured me.

“What have you done?” I roared, my voice echoing back at us in the long hallway. Gripping the collar of his shirt, I slammed him back against the wall. “What have you done. Tell me now!”

“Once you’ve had time to think—”

I punched him with every ounce of anger and fear and anguish swirling through me, letting him drop to the floor because I was already running, my fingers already grabbing for my phone and dialing the landline at the house. But no one picked up. I let out a roar of frustration when my driver didn’t answer his phone either, but I answered on the first ring when he called back less than a minute later.

“Where is Briar?” I yelled into the phone, my calm completely gone.

Sirens and too many voices filled the other side of the phone. I slowed, unable to continue moving, and then staggered back before falling to my knees when I heard his worried voice. “I’m sorry, Mr. Holt, I’m so sorry. It was my fault.”