Page 122 of Double Bucked

“Quite the game.”

I recognize the voice behind me immediately—dark, deep Arris.

I quickly turn to face him. “Christ. I’m sorry…I honestly have no idea what they’re doing?—”

Arris chuckles. “Don’t be. This is the most entertainment the crowd has had in a long time.” His eyes sweep past me to the chaos below. “A little fresh blood can be a good thing every now and then.” He turns back to me. His hand finds my shoulder. “You wanted to talk with me?”

“Yes…” Now’s my chance. Everyone is distracted by the show below; they ignore us completely. Still, I take Arris’s arm and pull him aside, sitting down at a table at an empty table at the far end of the room. We have, at least, a little privacy here. Nerves tremble through me, but I fit my hands together, locking my fingers in place. Breathe, Claire. At a young age, I learned to pluck every thread of worry or anxiety from my expression. Daddy considered it unfitting for a woman of my standing. So when I look at Arris now, I’m confident I’m wearing nothing but a blank, calm expression.

“I’ve been going through Daddy’s things,” I explain. “Organizing and cleaning his records.”

He nods, understanding. “I’m sure that’s quite the endeavor.”

“Quite. He was meticulous, as you know. But the truth is I’ve found some things that are, frankly, disturbing.”

His gray eyebrows knit together. “Disturbing?”

“Daddy considered you family. And you worked so closely together. I just thought if anyone knew what was going on, it would be you.”

Arris’s large hands sweep around the table. He encloses my hands in his own.

“Whatever I can do to help,” he says. His voice sounds so sincere, so earnest, my heart aches for it. “Tell me what you found.”

I want to believe him. I want to trust him.

But…

Perhaps it’s my black Preacher heart that knows no one is above suspicion.

There’s a nagging here I can’t release.

I look him dead in the eyes. “Oculus,” I say. “Does that name mean anything to you?”

There. Right there.

A flicker in his gaze.

“Oculus?” He stretches the word out. “No. I’m afraid not.”

But he’s nodding as he speaks. A tell.

He knows. Fuck. He’s known all along.

I start to pull away, but his hands tighten, trapping me in place.

“I wish I could be more help,” he continues. “But the truth is, as close as we were, your father shut me out in his final years. He shut everyone out. I hope I’m not overstepping here, but…I would hate to see you tread the same path.”

“Which path? The path to a sudden, violent death?”

“The path to isolation,” he corrects. “He trusted no one. Loved no one. I hope you know you have friends here. People who love you.”

Yes. Ransom. Everett. Those people love me.

Not you.

Daddy knew. Now I know it, too.

But I play nice. For now. “I know,” I tell him.

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