Page 122 of Queen Of Dark Money

RafeandRivershowed up at the hospital to pick me up, and beforeIknew where we were going, we’d rolled up on a placeInever really wanted to see again.

Thewarehouse whereTheoandSinclairhad tried to kill me.

“Ifyou wanted to spring me from the hospital,Icould think of a million and one better places to take me to.”Ishook my head, refusing to get out of the back of the car whenRafeopened the door for me.

“Comeon,Kenzie, we have a surprise for you.”Heoffered me my crutches and a hand, andIfound myself crawling out of the car, unimpressed by his determination to push my boundaries and the shit-eating grin on both their faces.

Whenwe reached the door,Igripped my crutches like they were a lifeline and took a deep breath.Thepanic was fresh, the wound still raw, butIcould fight this.Icould overcome the urge to turn away from the difficult memories, could resist the need to run and hide from the harsh realities of my life.

Iwould not giveSinclairor that dead bastard the satisfaction of letting them control my life, especially after all they’d done.

WhenIwalked in,Itried not to let the shock show on my face.Itried–and failed.

MostlybecauseIdidn’t expect in a million years that these boys would be ballsy enough to abduct theDistrictAttorneyoftheir city and hold him hostage in the same warehouse he’d used to to try and end his daughter.

Butthen again, nothing that had happened in the short timeI’dbeen in this place had been anywhere near whatI’dexpected, soIshould probably stop questioning things at this point.

Rafeput a hand on the base of my spine, leaning down to whisper in my ear, his hot breath stirring parts of meIhad no business using right now. “Webrought him for you.TheKingswant him to confess to what he’s done, and then you’re all clear to kill him.It’sall being streamed live, too, so enjoy.”

Iwasn’t sure what to do with that knowledge.

Onthe one hand,Iwanted so badly to make him pay for the hell he’d put me through, all the attempts on my life, even the fact that he’d left my mother alone with a newborn and a broken heart, with no funds and no support, jet-setting across the country to live his lavish life on his own terms with one of her babies.

Achild she’d never get to meet.

Achild who thought she was dead.

Achild who probably still suffered at his hands.

“Hello,Father,”Imuttered, throwing some false bravado behind my words.Hiseyes alighted on me, andIwatched them widen almost comically, his body struggling against his bindings as the bastard nearly choked on his gag.

Itlooked like he had something to say.

Allin due time.

Ihanded off my crutches and hobbled over to him withRiver’shelp, refusing to stand on anything but my own two feet in front of this pathetic excuse for a human being. “Fancyseeing you here, eh?”Myvoice was still weak, the faint remnants of the bruising on my throat fromTheo’shandiwork a stark reminder of whatI’dsurvived. “Thoughtyou’d seen the last of me,Ibet.”

EddySinclairgrunted asIreached behind his head and yanked the gag out of his mouth, wincing as some of his spit dripped on my hand whenItugged it away.Sinclairgasped for air, his eyes turning dark and angry, his face a lovely shade of red as he sputtered and struggled for words to adequately display his rage.

“Youfucking bitch!Youshould have had the decency to die when that shithead took a shot at you outside the club.”

Ofcourse he’d start with that.Menlike him never had anything good to say, andTheohad already used up theirEvilVillainMonologueallotment.

Islapped him upside the head, limping around his side, making a loop asItook it all in.Hewas drenched in sweat, dark spots all over his fancy clothes, his wrists raw and bleeding from the rough bailing twine they’d used to tie him up.Icould smell the fear on him, a tangy, rotten stench that mingled with the cheap cologne he insisted on wearing, the scent cloud like a miasma that he’d never be free of.

Icould almost pity him, ifIdidn’t know him for what he was.

Rafecleared his throat and brought me a shiny new bat, triggering a flashback to our morning at the courthouse. “Ithought you might like to use this on him, maybe encourage him to admit his grand scheme and all that jazz.”

Ilaughed, really laughed, for the first time in so long the sound was almost foreign to my own ears. “Thisis whyIadore you,”Igiggled, taking the cold metal weapon from his outstretched hands. “Youjust get me.”

Thebat fit nicely in my palms, the weight a reminder thatIwas in control.Thiswas my show, andEddySinclairwas just a guest star.Hewould have to do whatIwanted, speak whenIlet him, and that, more than anything else, reminded me of whoIwas.

IwasKerenzaDiaz, rough and tumble bitch.Asurvivor.Ahot mess.Andnow, a vengeful angel of death.

“So, tell me,Eddy–canIcall youEddy?”Icocked a brow and smiled as he sputtered at my insolence. “I’mgonna call youEddy; yeah, that sounds good.So,Eddy, listen–what did you think would happen to you?Walkme through this whole process, becauseI’mcurious.”

Itwirled the bat menacingly, spinning it on its tip whileIstared at the floor, biding my time.Therage, pain, and sadness racing through me refused to be silent, and for the first time in a very long time,Ifelt safe letting it all go.Icould do whatever it wasIneeded to heal.

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