Page 69 of Blind Sin

I look up to see who the guard is talking to. He gives me a brief nod and then nods to Mercier and Dacre. Dacre stands, but I have to shove Mercier to get him to look up.

“Who the fuck would want to see us?” he gripes as he stands up and begins to follow us out. I know who I want it to be, but that’s impossible. Luce and Lauren have been taken to another cell somewhere in another part of the building, or perhaps even another building altogether. I doubt they let the women prisoners cavort with the male prisoners.

We’re led along a corridor which is weirdly colorful for a jail. We walk along bright yellow floors past blue walls with orange doors of the cells. It’s more like a primary school than a jail and a long way from the shitty holding cell we’ve just left. I can only hope that Lucinda and Lauren are in this part of the building, away from the squalor.

We move into another brightly colored corridor, and come to a stop at a glass door to what looks like the main reception area. The words Centre de Détention de Papeari are written on the wall. For a brief moment I think we’re being released, but then we are show through a different door.

“Wait here!”The guard leaves us in the room then leaves. I hear the click of the lock behind him. It’s a lot better than the cell, with bright blue walls and comfy sofas. It’s nothing like any prison I’ve seen in the movies. On the wall is a huge large screen TV which is currently turned off. The only things that eludes to this being a prison are the discrete bars on the windows. With nothing else, to do, I take a seat on one of the sofas to wait.

“What the fuck is this?” Dacre grumbles.

“Conjugal visit?” Mercier jokes, but there’s no humor in his voice. It’s clear he doesn’t think they are just going to bring Lauren and Luce here anymore than I do.

I sit with my back pressed against the cold wall, my nerves on edge. The silence in the room is deafening, broken only by the sound of my fingers rubbing against each other, almost to the point of pain. Whoever has come to see us needs to hurry up and get in here before I lose my mind.

I rack my brain, going through every person I can think of who might be able to help us get out of this prison. But there's not a single soul who either knows we're here or gives enough of a shit about us enough to try to bust our asses out.

Just as I'm starting to entertain the possibility of it being someone from the US embassy, the door creaks open. My heart skips a beat as the worst possible person steps into the room.

The sight of him makes my blood run cold. His eyes lock onto mine, cold and calculating. His lips curl into a sneer, and I can feel his disdain for us radiating off of him in waves.

“Waldgrave,” I mutter under my breath, although he needs no introduction. Dacre and Mercier have never met him in person, but his ugly face is known the world over.

“And you must be Joshua Nix,” he gloats. “Tell me, haven’t we met before, Perhaps?”

Fucker. He knows we’ve met. He gloated at me back then too. I want to stand and punch his piggy face, but the two guards standing behind him tell me it’s not one of my better ideas.

“I don’t hang round pig pens,” I say.

He has me right by the balls and he knows it. Just like when I was fifteen and he took pleasure in telling me he’d taken all my parents’ money thanks to some stupid underhand bullshit.

“I think I remember now. Didn’t you bend over while I fucked you metaphorically up the ass? Took every penny you had if I remember rightly.”

Mercier jumps up and pulls his arm back ready to strike, but the guards are on him in a flash. Within seconds he’s on the ground, a knee in the crook of his back and his hands cuffed behind him.

“I see you hang round with losers like yourself. I can’t say I’m surprised. That must be Nolan Mercier. A street rat with nothing to his name. But this one here, Mr. Dacre. I’m surprised you want to consort with people like this. Your parents and I are just about to go into business together and pull off the biggest takeover in history. Had you not decided to debase yourself, you would have become an extremely rich young man...” he leans down between us and whispers something into Dacre’s ear. I lean closer to hear what he doesn’t want anyone else to know.

“Until I fuck your parents in pretty much the same way I fucked your friend here. Right now they are waiting for the news to break of our joint takeover of PLNCO and what they don’t know is that in twenty minutes their share is going to be worth absolutely nothing and they are going to have less money than your friend’s parents. Oh, but I suppose they’ll still have their lives unless Jonathan puts a gun in his mouth when he finds himself on the street.

Anger like I’ve never felt before consumes my soul. There’s no love lost between me and Dacre’s parents, but the casual way he talks about destroying people’s lives has me feeling a white-hot rage. My fists clench so tightly that my nails dig into my palms, and I can feel my whole body shaking.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Nix,” he says, turning to me. “You won’t be able to spoil anything by outing my little, shall we say, embarrassment. It’s too late. I’m sure the public won’t be happy when they find out that Lucinda isn’t my only daughter, but I’ll cry the poor tale and with the amount of money I’ll be worth, I can bury the story quickly.” He chuckles darkly. “Almost as quickly as I’ll bury you three.”

The rage consumes my soul, burning through me like a wildfire. I can feel the heat of my anger rising in my chest, threatening to boil over at any moment.

The crackle of one of the guards’ radios is the only thing that stops me punching Waldgrave right in that fat fucker’s face.

“Est-ce que les Américains et l'Anglais sont avec vous?”

I try and translate in my rusty French.Are the Americans and the Brit here?

Waldgrave pulls away from us and turns to hear what’s going on. The guard replies. “Oui”

“Nous avons reçu l'ordre d'allumer la télévision. Le commissaire a demandé à M. Waldegrave de la regarder également. Passez à la chaîne d'information.”

“What’s he saying?” Mercier croaks from his position on the floor where he’s still being held.

“They just said to turn on the TV. Apparently the commissioner wants us to watch it.

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