Page 26 of The Castle (Endgame 3)
“No,” she says, voice slurred with sleep. “He told me what he wanted to do. Him and me.”
My eyes remain wide open even as Penny drifts off. At least right now her expression is peaceful. No nightmares like the ones that plague me. Him and me. That didn’t sound like a business arrangement. And he brought her to his bed. That didn’t look like business either.
And in that brief glimpse of Damon’s body when he got out of the bed, he was aroused. Even with her body cool and unconscious, he had been hard.
Then again it might not mean anything.
I know better than anyone how business and pleasure could mix.Chapter ThirteenAs a little girl my favorite cereal was Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Even when I got older, my father let me eat that for breakfast every morning. His eyes would crinkle. Never grow up, he said.
If I imagined anything, it would be making coffee before a full day of research, catching a few minutes with my husband, Justin, before he left for work.
No amount of forethought could have prepared me for this morning.
A Southern breakfast spills across a long walnut table. Steam rises from a pile of fresh biscuits, a saucer of dark gravy beside it. Heaping bowls of fruit contain grapes and orange pieces and rosy strawberries. A stack of bacon could feed an army.
I have a small plate of scrambled eggs and cantaloupe slices. I would have thought I’d be queasy after the events of last night, but my stomach firmly reminds me we didn’t actually eat dinner.
The men pile their plates high with waffles and fried chicken, digging in as if the calories are consumed by their intensity alone. And judging by the abs I saw on both men last night, that would be true. They speak in low tones, their words too cryptic to decipher.
At the moment I’m too tired to try.
The strangest part of the breakfast is the girl sitting across from me. Someone brought over a duffel bag of clothes for me last night. A few pairs of yoga pants and slouchy tops, so I loaned some to Penny.
By loaned I mean that I dressed her like a doll.
She stares at the pool of lukewarm tea in her cup, her expression blank.
We spent the night in the same bed. There’s a kind of kinship that comes from recovering together, even though I know basically nothing about her. I know her daddy got her into trouble.
If she lives in the west side, her daddy doesn’t have a lot in common with mine.
Except that he sold his daughter, too.
“So I’ll bring Avery back,” Gabriel says, catching my attention.
Damon nods. “We can meet this afternoon.”
My eyes narrow. “Can you maybe talk to me instead of about me?”
“I’ll bring you back to my house,” Gabriel says in a dry tone. “And then meet with Damon this afternoon.”
“What about Penny?”
Both men look at the silent girl, as pale as a ghost, her strawberry-blonde hair in unruly curls. “What about her?” Gabriel finally asks.
I shake my head, impatient. “Who will take care of her?”
“I’ll find someone,” Damon says with that uncharacteristic solemnity.
And I would break my promise to her. “I’ll stay with her.”
“Absolutely not,” Gabriel says. “My house is the safest place for you, especially when both Damon and I aren’t there. The security team is already installed there.”
“Then she can come with me,” I say, nudging Penny’s foot under the table. It would help if she’d back me up. She continues to stare into her teacup. “If it’s safer there, then she’ll be safer, too.”
Damon frowns, watching Penny with a dark expression. “Take her.”
Without another word, he pushes back from the table and throws down his napkin. He strides from the room at a clipped pace, not looking back.
“What happened to her?” I ask Gabriel.
He shakes his head, expression grim. “You don’t want to know.”
“I should know if I’m going to help her.”
“I’m not sure there’s any help for someone who’s been through that.”
“Are you speaking from experience?”
He meets my gaze, his golden eyes blazing. “I saw a lot of fucked-up shit at the whorehouse growing up. Women raped, hurt. Beaten until they weren’t recognizable. And still I never saw anything like this.”
My heart thuds, imagining that little boy watching such violence. Being part of it. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, little virgin. I could have freed you. Never forget that. I could have paid a million dollars and then walked away, never fucking that pretty little cunt.”
The words I’m glad you didn’t sit on the edge of my tongue. I can’t quite say them. I would have gone on with my life. Would have gone back to Smith College. I can’t even imagine that life now, but it was the one I wanted for too long to throw it away.
He smiles without humor. “He fucked her. And then he drowned her.”
