He snorts. “You have no idea, do you?” he spits and leans his face so close, his eyes so full of malice that my entire body begins to shudder. He opens his mouth to speak, to curse me or declare his hate of me. I don’t know what, but then he draws back, shakes his head and tosses me onto the bed. For a brief moment, I think this is it. I think he’s really going to do it. Take what I don’t give.

I’m about to scream when he leans over me and clasps his hand over my mouth, muffling the sound when it finally comes.

“You have no idea.” He finally says and spins on his heel to leave.

15

Jericho

I sit in a corner table at the Cat House in IVI’s compound. The clock chimes and I look up to see it’s two in the morning. This place is alive though. Always.

The Cat House is one of the perks of being a member of The Society. Our own personal whore house, albeit as high end as they come, with the most beautiful of courtesans at our disposal.

I watch from my shadowed corner. See the men, some masked, some not. Most drunk by this point, having their little lap dances or their dicks sucked right out in the open. I never understand why they don’t go to the private rooms. But the women are paid to indulge any fantasy. Paid well. So, our wish is their command and if exhibitionism is the wish, well, it could be worse.

I should use one of them. Let off a little steam. I have in the past. But not a single one of the beauties catches my eye tonight.

A waitress returns to refill my empty glass.

“No,” I tell her and stand. I set a hundred-dollar-bill on the table, walk out through the courtyard and exit the compound. Dex is waiting beyond the gates with the car.

I’m not drunk but I’m in no shape to drive and although I slip into the front seat beside him, he knows I’m in no mood to talk.

Seeing Angelique like that in the pool today fucked with me. Instinct kicked in sending me diving into the water to rescue her. But she wasn’t drowning. She didn’t need rescuing. And neither did Isabelle when she went under. In fact, my dive was what sent her there. What sent my little girl into a panic.

I’ve protected Angelique all her life. No one knew of her existence apart from a handful of trusted staff and security. My mother thinks it’s damaged her. She should be with other children, not shut up in house after house with us. Only us. At least when I was around it was us. Mostly, it was her, though. That’s another thing. Angelique is terrified I’ll leave and not come back. And what Isabelle said hit a nerve.

I don’t believe we remember our birth on any level conscious or subconscious. I never have. But Angelique’s birth, her violent introduction to this world, maybe it left its traces in her psyche. Maybe it damaged her more than I know.

Her mother, Kimberly and I had been engaged to be married. I asked her a few months after she became pregnant. We’d been in Mexico. I’d taken her with me on a business trip that we turned into a vacation. If I hadn’t taken her, she’d be here now. Angelique would have her mother. She may not have me, but she’d have her. I have no doubt Kimberly would be an infinitely better mother to her than I am a father.

The morning we were to leave we’d been having breakfast at a café on the beach. Kimberly wanted to feel the sand between her toes one last time. She’d looked so happy. She’d glowed, with her belly beautifully rounded, her skin tanned and her smile brighter than ever. I’ve never known anyone to be as happy as she was in those last months.

I left her sitting there while I went inside to pay except that I’d forgotten my wallet on the table. When I went back to get it, she’d already realized my mistake and was bringing it to me.

I saw them just before it happened. I think I did. Or maybe I’m making that part up, a thought made into memory. I felt it though, the change in the air, the darkness coming toward us. To invade our lives. To steal hers.

She was smiling, holding up my wallet. She may have been commenting on how absent minded we both had become, so drunk were we with joy. The happiness we were sure to have.

Maybe that’s what caused it. Our sureness. As if the gods above looked down on us and shook their heads. Maybe we were too happy.

They wore black suits. That’s all I remember. Two men who stood out on that beach of blue ocean and bluer sky and golden sunshine. I saw the gun. Saw the one draw it from under his jacket. And before I could think, before I could throw my body over hers, it was done. He pulled the trigger and her body jerked. I heard her breath catch as her face lost that smile, lost all expression but shock.

There was a second shot. That bullet hit my shoulder because I was dropping to me knees with her in my arms. Wanting to catch her. To not let her fall. And then they were gone and the panicked screams of strangers rushed back into my last moments with her.

She had died by the time we got her into the ambulance, and I thought for sure I’d lost our baby too. I remember screaming at the paramedic when I saw the knife, when I saw him cut her. I remember being held back by another paramedic.

And then I heard that tiny, strangled cry.

The car slows, drawing me back to reality. I blink my eyes as we approach the front entrance of the house.

“Are you going to be okay?” Dex asks me.

I brush my hand through my hair. “Fine. Thanks.” I get out, walk into the house. It’s dead quiet. I stand in the foyer for a minute and listen to that silence, thinking about Angelique’s cry the morning she was born. How it sounded against the roar of sirens.

I think about why it happened.

Why a man who didn’t know me pulled a gun from inside his jacket but missed his target and instead killed Kimberly.

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