It was the next morning at brunch where I met Peter and his picture-perfect family. At the time, I didn’t think anything of it. After all, I had parents who loved me, and I never wanted for anything. Still, for some reason, the strongest sense of urgency filled me when I saw him for the first time. I wrote it off as hating the Florida weather. It was too muggy and hot. Too bright after a lifetime in the overcast skies of London.
And then his beautiful wife walked in carrying a baby, couldn’t be older than a year, and holding the hand of a young girl with brown hair and a smile that reached out and struck you with its glow. Their mother was pretty, but she paled in comparison to mine.
Peter smiled and shook my hand, the soft skin of his palm making me feel important. Respected. Stupidly, I looked up to him in the same way I did my father. And two days later when we flew home on a NevAirLand private jet, courtesy of Peter Michaels, it went down in flames, crashing into trees and killing everyone on board. Everyone except for me.
I’ll never forget the look on my father’s face as he read the handwritten note minutes before—the one passed off by Peter himself. I had never known a living man could go as sickly white as a ghost.
It’s that image that haunts me now as we drive up the darkened pathway to the entrance of Cannibal’s Cave. The crunch of the gravel underneath the tires echoes the feeling of my insides, knowing I’ll have to hold myself together and not kill Peter where he stands.
Starkey parks the car and leaves the headlights on—the only way to light up the black of the night.
And there he is, leaning against a Rolls Royce in a green button-down shirt and dark slacks. His men stand slightly ahead, and a stunning blonde woman is by his side.
“You ready, kid?” Ru looks over to me. “Keep it cordial, yeah?”
I lift my brows. “Of course, Roofus.”
“And don’t call me Roofus in front of him, for Christ’s sake.”
Ru steps out of the car first, and I follow shortly after, allowing the limelight to land on him as I slink behind in the shadows, not wanting Peter to see me just yet.
“Ru, I presume?” Peter’s voice sails across the air, making my stomach churn.
Ru grins. “That’s me. You would know that if you had shown up the first time.”
Peter inclines his head, his graying hair bobbing with the motion. “I apologize, I’m sure you can understand why I sent one of my men first. Privacy and discretion are of the utmost importance.”
I place my hands in my pockets, my thumb rubbing harshly against the wood of my knife, trying to drown out the thumping of my heart.
“And who is this?” Ru asks, his hand waving toward the woman standing behind Peter.
Peter glances back at her. “This is Tina Belle. My assistant.”
Her blonde hair is pulled back tightly, and she smiles and waves.
“Tina, nice to meet you,” Ru says. “Well, we’re here. Talk to us.”
Peter’s head cocks to the side, his eyes floating from Ru to Starkey, and finally to me standing in the shadows. “You have me introduce my people, but you don’t give me the same courtesy?” He points to his chest. “If you’re planning on us working together, respect goes both ways. There needs to be a level of trust.”
Anger burns deep in my gut. Trust. Laughable, really.
I step out of the shadows and into the light, my hands in my pockets.
“Trust is a funny word, isn’t it?” I ask.
Ru turns to me, narrowing his eyes. I grin at him and wink.
Peter gazes at me for long moments, as if he’s soaking in every single feature. And then, his cheeks pale the slightest bit.
Excellent.
“After all,” I continue. “We trusted that when someone of your caliber comes into our territory and requests a meeting, he would do us the courtesy of actually showing up.” I step forward until I’m shoulder to shoulder with Ru, my hand white-knuckling my knife, trying to filter all of my rage into my grip so it doesn’t show on my face.
I’ve waited on this for fifteen years, and I’m going to see my plan through, no matter how much my blood is scratching at my insides, screaming to end him here and now.
Peter licks his lips. “And you are?”
I chuckle, glancing at the ground before meeting his stare. “You can call me Hook.”
“Ah, yes. Hook.” Peter chuckles. “Your reputation precedes you.” He tilts his head. “Didn’t know you were British though.”
I smirk, resting against the front of our car.
Peter’s men come closer, but he shakes his head. “Relax, everyone. We’re all just businessmen having a conversation.” His eyes sear into mine. “Isn’t that right?”
“I suggest you get to your point,” Ru snaps. “You’ve already wasted enough of our time, and I’m liable to get impatient quick.”
Peter’s brows lift to his hairline. “Do you know who I am?”
Ru cocks his head. “Are you suggesting I’m stupid? You come into my territory, and think because your name is Peter Michaels that you can ask us to jump and we’ll say how high, then thank you for the favor?” He shakes his head. “That isn’t how it works here. You want to run for me with your planes and your ships, we can talk. I’m more than willing to strike up an amicable agreement. But don’t think for one second that because you’re a golden boy in the eyes of the world, that I’ll give a damn here in my home.” He points to his chest. “These are my streets. And everyone in them pays their dues. You get me?”
My insides splinter at Ru’s words, shock spearing my stomach like an arrow. He’s considering working with him. After we agreed he’d say no.
Peter’s silent for long moments, before he rubs his chin and nods. “I’ll run your pixie and your weapons, but I want fifty percent.”
My teeth grind, and Ru huffs a laugh. “Ten.”
Peter smiles. “Forty.”
Ru’s lips thin, his eyes growing dark. “I think you got me confused, huh? I don’t need you.”
“That may be true.” Peter nods. “But you’d be a fool to turn me away. You may have runners, but none with my expertise and none with a globally known carrier service that can enter any country at any time.” He walks closer to Ru, and my spine straightens. “All you have to do is say the word, and I’ll pack your pixie and fly it to places you’ve only seen in your dreams.”
A ring interrupts the moment, and Peter pulls his phone from his pocket, glancing at the screen. Sighing, his body slumps. “Unfortunately, gentlemen, I have to cut this meeting short.” He looks up, his eyes crinkling in the corners with his smile. “I promised my daughter I’d be home for dinner.”
My stomach somersaults at the mention of Wendy. I wonder how he would feel knowing that his daughter’s cum was covering my fingers just the night before. That I held her life in my hands while she begged me to edge her on the brink of death.
Peter walks forward, putting his hand out for Ru to shake. “We’ll finalize plans sometime this next week. Make the right decision, yeah?”
And then he comes to me. His charming mask slips slightly as he cranes his neck to look me in the eyes. Bile burns the back of my throat as I place my palm in his.
His gaze is cold. Calculating. “Maybe one day you’ll tell me your name?”
Anticipation slams into me like a battering ram, and a smile stretches across my face. “I look forward to it.”
17
Wendy
My father actually came home. Two hours later than he said he’d be, and with a mystery woman attached to his side, but I’ll overlook the details because having him here outweighs any of the negatives.
Even though he missed dinner.
“So, what is it you do for my dad again?” I ask Tina, following them into the unused home office.
She grins, grasping a folder under her arm as she makes herself comfortable on the dark leather couch. She’s beautiful in a spritely sort of way. Slim and petite, with a button nose and wispy bangs. But I can’t help the envy that swirls deep in my gut, knowing she gets untapped access to my father’s attention while the rest of us pray for a drop.
“I’m his right-hand woman. Your father would be lost without me.” She turns to him, smiling, and he winks back.
Gag me. Sucking my bottom lip into my mouth, I nod. “Oh.”
“She’s my assistant,” Dad chimes in.
“Is she the voice I always hear right before you rush me off our calls?” I lift my brows.
Lines form between his eyes, his lips turning down, and the little girl in me, still desperate for his approval, cowers at the stare. “I’m sorry, that was rude,” I rush out. “I just… it’s hard with you gone so much. Especially in this new place.”
He sighs, glancing at Tina and then back at me. “Leave, Tina.”
Her eyes widen, and she shifts in her seat. “Peter, we need to—”
“I need to speak with my daughter. Alone. Leave.”
She sucks in a breath and nods, setting down the folder that’s on her lap and slowly making her way out of the office door, her eyes narrowing as they land on me.
Bitch.
I watch her close the door behind her before spinning to face my father.