Cellar Door

“I think we’re good enough acquaintances you can call me Luke.”

Her collagen-filled lips smirk. “Would you like an apology, Luke? Although I do feel badly for your situation, I didn’t kill your sister. Milton is dead. He can’t apologize to you, either. You made sure they were all dead. So what else is there left to do?”

My hands ball into fists. “This isn’t over.”

She expels a

breathy sigh. “I didn’t approve of Milton’s extracurricular activities,” she says, her tone dripping with disdain. “Men like Milton…born with wealth, never having to want for anything, never being told no, they become easily bored. They seek out challenges, trophies of their own design.”

“My little sister wasn’t a trophy.”

“No. You’re not understanding me. Men like Milton and his…friends,” she stresses the word, “they have particular cravings. Pushing boundaries and getting away with it… Well, that excites them. Gives meaning to their mundane lives.”

“How can you be so cavalier about kidnapping and raping young girls?”

My question makes the driver and the man to my right uneasy. They’re privy to the interworkings of Jennifer’s company but, unlike her late husband, she doesn’t surround herself with sadists and deviants.

She’s smarter than that.

That’s why she’s the queen.

“Honestly,” she finally replies, “I’m anything but cavalier, Luke. I didn’t make the rules in this world. I’m not the first to capitalize on this particular trade and currency. Women have been selling their bodies since the beginning of time. That hasn’t changed, and it won’t change any time soon. This business is simple supply and demand. You can see me as the villain here, or you can point the finger in the right direction.”

I raise an eyebrow.

“Point it at yourself,” she says. “Point it at every man. Without demand, there’d be no supply. It’s always men. This world revolves around the desires of men. I’m an entrepreneur. There was already a market in place; I just made it more efficient. Now, as for your sister…” She trails off, a forced sympathetic tug at her lips.

“That wasn’t supposed to happen,” she continues. “For that, I am truly sorry. But see, I’m efficient in every aspect of my company. I made sure it would never happen again. I didn’t want to get rid of Milton. I did love him. But punishment wouldn’t be enough. You made sure of that. You forced my hand. So I say we’re even.”

“You’re saying my sister and your husband is tit for tat?”

She shrugs a slender shoulder. “I wouldn’t put it exactly that way, but yes. We both lost someone due to selfish men and their insatiable appetites. And now they’re gone. We can both move on.”

But she has no plans for me to move on. I’m not leaving Seattle. I probably won’t even leave this car, except in a box.

I peek at the hired gun beside me. The silencer digs into my side as he turns to look out the window. While Jennifer rambled on, she didn’t notice the detour.

“Mrs. Myer, we’re going the wrong way.” The gun in my sides slips an inch.

“Ben, why are we on the five-twenty?” Jennifer glances at the exit sign as we pass it on the highway. “Take that exit. Head back into downtown.”

But Ben doesn’t take the exit.

“Call your security detail behind us,” I say to her. “Tell them you’ve had a change of plans. Get rid of them.”

A flicker of incredulity creases her too-smooth face. “And why would I do that, Luke?” But her question is rhetorical. She directs her immediate attention on the driver. “Take the next damn exit. Now.”

We are creatures of habit. We might think we like change and spontaneity, yet we gravitate toward what we know, what is dependable. For Jennifer Myer, that’s the people she depends on to keep her safe.

For me, it’s risk. I avoid risk by always having a detailed plan. I might flaunt a coin toss in Fate’s face—but there are never any unknown variables in that toss.

Until now.

To get this close, I had to go in blind. I had to risk it all.

The guy seated beside me becomes distracted with Jennifer’s annoyance, and I act quickly. I send my elbow into his kidney and then slam his head against the window.

The gun goes off.