Page 129 of Dash

Yeah. It was. Arthur was your run of the mill terrorist. He enjoyed torturing Thena. He got off watching me fry. His confidence ramped up my wrath. Had it been only me in this room, matters would already be settled one way or the other. But my priority was to protect Thena.

Still breathing hard, I waited for Shaw to check on his tablet. When he did, I made my move. My fingers wrapped around the knob of the cane. I turned it slowly, my movements invisible. Now the hard work began.

***

Thena

I fisted my hands on my lap, trying to suppress the tremors shaking my body. I glanced at Dash, sagging against the wall. Drew kept his weapon on him, but his gaze shifted often to look at his tablet. I could hear the crew inside the house, running all over, getting ready to go.

My fucked-up uncle lifted his substantial bulk from the chair. His knees creaked, right before he pressed his gun against my forehead. “Where. The hell. Are. Your sisters.”

I gulped. Was my ignorance going to be the reason for Dash’s death?

Dash had been jolted by the horrendous collar several times. With his shirt ripped open and his muscular chest heaving, he looked sick, and yet when our eyes met, I spotted cunning in his gaze. He was up to something. There was a message in his gaze, silent instructions.

I realized what he needed from me. I had to play for time and deflect the beasts’ attention away from him before they figured out what he was up to, hurt him beyond repair, or killed him.

“I don’t understand.” I took a deep breath and met my uncle’s stare. “You loved us when we were kids. Why are you doing this now?”

“Success takes time, dear, preparation, especially when you’re working around a son of a bitch like Richard.” Arthur puckered his mouth at the mention of my father’s name, but he eased the gun away from my face. “I never gave a fuck about you or your siblings. I was simply laying the groundwork for this glorious day.”

“But…” I grappled for words, still shaken by the depths of his deception. “Why?”

“Your father was too rich and powerful.” He ambled behind my chair. “I couldn’t do this alone. So, I partnered with people who count, powerful folks who already own the future.”

The New World Order. We needed to find out more about that. I followed him with my gaze as he parked next to the crumpled cake.

“You still haven’t answered my question.” I tried to keep him talking. “Why did you hate my father? Why did you betray your family?”

“Vengeance,” Dash rasped from his place slouched against the wall. “It’s the only motive that fits.”

“Your fuck buddy is correct.” Uncle Turd inclined his head, a satisfied nod. “Your father betrayed me first.”

I clasped my hands on the table and squeezed until my fingers ached. “How?”

“Don’t answer her stupid questions,” Drew spat. “She’s wasting your time, and we have an item to locate.”

“Calm down, my friend.” Arthur looked at his watch. “When the team is gone, the mansion will be ours and we’ll have plenty of time to search.” He stuck his finger in the cake, swiped some icing, and licked his finger. “I want to savor this moment. I want to enjoy telling each of Richard’s daughters that he’s toblame for their painful deaths, and you, my dear, you have the honor of hearing it first.”

I managed to hold his stare. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted the fury on Dash’s face. A muscle flinched on his jaw. If looks could kill, Arthur would be dead.

Arthur tucked his gun in his belt, grabbed the steak knife from the dessert cart, and cut himself a chunk of cake. He stuffed the huge piece in his mouth. His hunger was an ugly, endless thing.

“Do you recall how your father won his first oil and gas leases?” he asked through a mouthful.

“He won them at a poker game.” I fell back on the family lore, revulsed by the sight of the cream smearing his lips and clinging to the corners of his mouth.

“He didn’t win them.” He attacked the cake with the knife again. “He cheated in order to win. He took what was mine.”

“The leases belonged to you?” I gawked. “He took them away from you, his own brother?”

“That was Richard for you.” Sticking out his tongue, he licked the icing from the knife’s flat edges. “I owned the leases until he got me drunk one night and convinced me to play a high stakes poker game. I lost my claim and my land, includingthisland, wherethishouse stands.This?” He raised the knife and twirled it in the air. “It all belongs to me.”

“But…” I opened my mouth and closed it. “Father loved you.”

“Ha!” He snorted, spewing a disgusting mix of saliva and cake that fell over the table and on my arm. “Your father only loved himself.”

“He treated you well.” I reached for one of the discarded napkins on the table and wiped off his gross spittle from my arm. “He sent you money for your living expenses. He financed your missionary activities. He spoke with pride about your piety.”

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