Page 17 of Kings of Decay
That's the way it had to be, and I wasn't one to question him when it came to money. We were the heirs to the fortune he'd built in this desolate place. He could have moved us all to the Caribbean a hundred times, but he wanted to be here in his icy stronghold in the North.
"Plus, the new Governor has a hard-on for protecting wildlife and living wages, so that's going to make things more complicated," Pearce added.
"Whatever. Either way, I want to play with this girl and make her ours."
My lust for Willow was simmering, threatening to turn into a full-blown wildfire if I didn’t have her soon. She was so pretty and broken, brave and scared. She was a beautiful girl full of contradictions.
I’d never wanted anyone more than her. The selection of good-looking girls in this place was pretty much zero.
Pearce's expression darkened as he grinned. "Oh, brother, I was counting on that," Pearce said, throwing himself back onto my bed with a dramatic sigh, disrupting the dust that had settled on the sheets. "So what's the plan?"
"Hmm," I turned in my chair. "I want us to take our time with this little mouse. Soon, the winter snow will come, and she'll have no way out. That's when we'll make our move."
Pearce adjusted his pants. "I don't know if I can wait that long."
"What about an appetizer at the Halloween Party?"
"Ainsley," my brother said. "You're a genius."
Chapter thirteen
Pearce
Even at twenty-two, my father scared me.
The Winston Patriarch, Gerald Winston, my father. Former mayor, millionaire, and even though he’d formally retired, he was the one who ran this town.
Even on a quiet Sunday afternoon, he was dressed in a suit with a perfectly pressed white shirt underneath. He had two thick gold rings that were shined until they gleamed and his grey hair was short and gelled back.
In another life, he would have made a decent Batman villain.
But he was still a villain in this life, and my brother and I were his soldiers. The fixers. The wolves who kept all the sheep in line.
Father let out a long sigh, rubbing his forehead. “This next election is going to be a mess,” he said.
I stood at attention in front of his old-fashioned mahogany desk. “Why is that, Father?”
“Percy Tate. He’s running against the incumbent.”
I frowned.
“So you know the name?”
“I know Tate has a big head and isn’t the type to bend to influence.”
Father chuckled wickedly, leaning back in his chair. “Exactly. And we need people to mold if we want to keep this town alive. We need puppets to appease the mining companies, or we’ll be dead before spring.” He paused, drumming his fingers.
I spoke after the silence became overwhelming. “Want me to take care of him?” I hadn’t tasted blood in weeks, and I was itching to satisfy my inner beast.
My father waved his hand. “I would love that, but,” he said pointedly. “Tate is buddies with the new Governor, and that … complicates things.”
Most of my victims were nobodies. An up-and-coming politician's death right before an election would surely cause suspicion.
“I can make it look like an accident. Or suicide,” I offer.
“Don’t do anything until I have more information,” Father said. “I have Ainsley looking for dirt on the dark web as we speak.”
I nodded.
