Geraint laughs, but it sounds forced to my ears.
Daddy’s eyes are cold and calculating. I wonder if he’s worked it out yet. Who Geraint is, and why he’s here. Not as this man Arthur’s liaison, but as Trefor’s brother, out for blood.
“You gonna ask your daughter if she’s okay?” Geraint grits out.
For the smallest second, triumph flares in daddy’s eyes and I feel the bottom drop out of my stomach. He knows Geraint isn’t really going to hurt me. The gun in my ribs is just for show. A broad smile crosses daddy’s face and, without looking at me, he asks, “You okay, baby?”
Miserably, I nod. Daddy’s going to coerce Geraint to go to the house. I won’t go. I’ll stay right here, no matter what, and then Geraint will just have to stay with me too. If he sets foot on Avallonis, he’s dead.
“What do you want from me?” daddy asks Geraint, eyeing the gun. “All this is very unnecessary. Arthur’s getting fucking twitchy in his old age.”
“Just to talk. You and me. This girl’s coming too, in case you get other ideas.” He levels the gun at daddy’s chest. “I’m tired of asking nicely. Get in the fucking car.”
Daddy doesn’t move. Geraint lets go of me and steps forward. He frisks daddy for weapons one-handed, and then shoves him toward the back of the car.
He tosses me the car keys. “Branwen, drive. Take the first left, and then the next two rights.”
Daddy protests at the rough treatment. “Hey, what the fu—”
Geraint gives him another shove and they squeeze into the back seat. I start the engine with shaking fingers, wishing I could tell Geraint he was making a mistake. That I know my daddy, and he might seem like he’s resigned or weak right now, but he’s got an ace up his sleeve. I don’t know what it is but it scares me. I have a terrible feeling, like he’s going to kill Geraint and there’ll be nothing I can do about it.
As I drive, daddy’s eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror and he says the words I’ve always wanted to hear from him. “It’s okay, baby. I know you’re sorry, and I’m not angry anymore.”
I swallow hard, tears blurring the road ahead. I haven’t heard him sound this soft with me in years. It reminds me of a time when I believed he loved me as a father should.
His hazel eyes are so soft and tender when they meet mine. “Daddy forgives you.”
Geraint
“Shut the fuck up.” I hold the gun up closer to his head. “She’s got a new daddy now. One who doesn’t fucking terrify her.” How dare he say those things to her? The words I say to comfort Branwen from the terror he made her feel.
Lange’s eyes harden to flint. He looks between Branwen and me, searching for clues. “Is that how it is?” he says softly.
Branwen’s cheeks burn and I see her hands falter on the wheel.
“Keep talking. It’ll only make your death more painful.”
“So, you do plan on killing me,” Lange says conversationally.
He’s doing what I would do in his position, pretending like he’s not worried and that he’s in no hurry to escape. That all this is amusing to him and he’ll go along with it until he’s bored. Then, he’ll kill me.
I’d like to blow his brains out right here but two things stop me. This is a classic car and I don’t want to spend the next week washing Lange’s brains out of the upholstery. And I’d rather not do this in front of Branwen.
Lange glances at me and he sees it in my eyes. How much I’m looking forward to killing him. That he might be bluffing, but I’m fucking not.
; Surreptitiously, he glances at the door handle, the locks, searching for a way out but pretending he’s not. “What I don’t understand is why Arthur wants me dead. There are so many business opportunities for the both of us to explore.”
Arthur might have wanted that once. If Trefor had returned to us, unharmed, with favorable reports about how Lange treats his business associates, maybe we’d be having a very different conversation right now. Spies might be dirty but they’re a necessary precaution when you’re dealing with men like Lange. There’s no insurance if something goes wrong. No regulations and laws protecting you. No courts of law. You have to know the person you’re dealing with can be trusted to honor his word. We’d heard some rumors about Lange we didn’t like.
I pull Trefor’s crucifix out of my shirt and dangle it before his eyes. “Thanks for the souvenirs of my brother.”
Lange nods slowly. “Ah, he was your brother. You got his finger all right, then?”
Son of a fucking bitch.
He makes a dismissive gesture, as if all this talk of my brother’s murder is boring him. “Arthur should have known what would happen if he sent a spy into my ranks. I was perfectly justified in killing that man. Arthur would have done the same. Why don’t we all grow up and talk business instead? I can make you and your boss very rich.”