Page 74 of Ruthless King (Mount Trilogy 1)
My hand may not have the desired effect, but my words stop him cold. And when I say cold, I mean frigid.
Mount’s features harden into the granite mask he never uses on me as he turns to walk away.
“You killed him, didn’t you? And her!”
Once more, Mount ignores my question and slams the door on his way out.
Keira
As soon as the door is closed, I run to grab my purse and my phone. I have zero cell service and no Internet connection, both of which must be controlled by Mount. I wait about two minutes before I head for the door and try the knob.
It turns freely.
In his fury, the all-powerful Mount forgot the most important thing—you can’t keep an unwilling prisoner in an unlocked cell.
I dash into the hallway, retracing the path we used last night until I reach the courtyard. The hallways are silent and empty, and I don’t give a damn if the cameras catch me. My goal is to be out of the gate and gone before he can reach me.
I don’t know if it’s the good Lord smiling down on me or a twist of fate finally working in my favor, but the courtyard gate is secured with a double dead bolt from the inside and not a key.
As soon as I hit the cracked sidewalk of a familiar block of the French Quarter, I take my first breath of freedom, but I know I can’t waste any time appreciating it. I sprint down the street to one where I know there will be cabs waiting, expecting Mount or Scar to yank me back into the shadows at any moment.
But they don’t.
Probably too busy covering up a double homicide.
I slide into the first cab that stops and give the driver the address to my apartment. I know it sounds stupid, but I’m hoping Mount will assume I’m too smart to go there, which will buy me some time. Maybe.
The cabdriver fights traffic while I grasp my apartment keys in my purse until the sharp metal edges make my eyes sting with tears. I have to keep it together, even though I feel like everything is splintering out of control. I can’t risk going to the police because I have no idea who is on Mount’s payroll. More than one, I would bet on that.
Nothing is what it seems. Or maybe everything is exactly as it seems. Mount is the villain here. He manipulated me, and I fell under his spell. End of story.
As soon as we reach my block, I toss some cash at the cabbie and run up the sidewalk to the door. Again, I’m expecting to be captured at any moment, and God knows what they’ll do to me now. I have nothing to lose and everything to gain by finding the gun I keep locked in my nightstand drawer. After I have some way to protect myself, I’ll find a cop who isn’t on Mount’s payroll.
As soon as I step into my apartment, I scan every surface in the open kitchen and living room area. It doesn’t look like anyone has been here.
I race to the bedroom, intent on getting the gun and as many rounds as I have left in the box of ammo. I have to be ready because I know he’ll come for me.
When I rush for the nightstand drawer, there’s a box on the bed that brings me to a halt. A black one. The same type that carried each of the sex toys Mount used on me.
I grab it off my bed and fling it at the wall, not caring about the dent it will leave. I expect a vibrator or a butt plug to fall to the floor, but neither do.
What looks like a pair of underwear and a piece of paper flutter to the floor.
What the hell?
Looking over my shoulder out of instinct, I slowly cross the room and crouch down to retrieve them.
I expect the bold handwriting I’ve come to know as Mount’s, but the curving feminine letters were written by my own hand.
I remember writing the note all too vividly.
* * *
Meet me at Bal Masqué in the back alcove at midnight. Don’t say anything. Just take me.
* * *
Reading the familiar words drops me to my knees. I grab black fabric. It’s a thong I bought specifically to match the jeweled bra I wore under my gown for Bal Masqué.
