Page 112 of Phantom
“If he’d left you alone, Sol wouldn’t have had a chance to sneak up on him. He unloaded a gun into Two-Shot’s chest. Then, in true Phantom fashion, he strangled him for good measure, just like he did to my brother a decade ago. Shooting isn’t his usual MO. The only reason I found out at all was a side street camera that caught Sol carrying Two-Shot into Lafayette Cemetery No.1. My men scoured that cemetery afterward to find his body in a recently open grave. There was no trace of me ordering the hit, so it looked like a personal grudge between my assassin and your father. I’d had to go back into hiding after that to ensure I kept my cover.”
As I listen to Rand’s version of what happened, realization sets in. He’s got some of the pieces jumbled up, but they all start to come together for me.
Pride and gratitude for Sol, mixed with guilt for not trusting him, fill my chest, making it hard to breathe. But I school my face to keep my scared expression as he continues.
“And now that I’ve gotten my revenge on your father, I’ve set my sights onyou. Gus Day destroyed my family, so now I’m going to destroy his. It’s perfect timing really. I’ll get to kill two birds with one stone by taking out Gus Day’s own daughter and Sol’s obsession. Let’s see if the Phantom of the French Quarter really doesn’t care about you. And if he doesn’t, I’ll just hit closer and closer until I get what I want. I’ll take everything from them, like they did me, until I’ve secured all of New Orleans away from those monsters and under Chatelain control.”
Angry tears burn my eyes, and I shudder as he strokes my cheek.
“Youare the monster.”
He smirks and drops his hand, but steps just a foot away from me. “Oh, Scarlett. Didn’t you know? I’m a nice guy. And this nice guy is going to finally get what you’ve been keeping from me for years. You were always such a fucking prude.”
“I wastwelve,” I growl.
His face grows red right before he grabs me by my shoulders and slams me into the bronze statue behind me. Stunned by the move, I don’t even try to flinch away when he smacks my face, hard enough to make me bite my tongue. My black butterfly mask rips free and drifts to the ground. Pain pounds like a drumbeat in my brain, forcing me to move at a much slower tempo than what is survivable right now.
But the rage that’s been simmering in my veins since he began to taunt me with father’s murder begins to boil. I try to focus as Rand paws at my dress, but flashbacks streak across my mind.
Hands digging into my skin, under my clothes, scratching and clawing to get what they think they deserve. All the memories come barreling into my brain, in reverse.
Jacques Baron.
My father’s assassin.
Rand Chatelain.
The fury flooding through my body energizes me, just like it did the moments after my father’s murder. He’d shot the man who’d tried to assault me, wounding him, inadvertently helping me to finish the job.
“I know Sol says he doesn’t care about you, but I’ve known that bastard my entire life. No Bordeaux likes to share his little toys. I only wish I could see his face when he sees your body after I push you off the roof. No one will question whether the crazy woman committed suicide after her beloved dumped her like the trash she is. It’ll break his sadistic heart.”
I’m so sorry, Sol.
I space out, staring over Rand’s shoulder as he feels up my body and I try to figure out what to do, how to get out of this, how to use my rage to break through the instinct to freeze, like I was able to do the night my father died.
As soon as his murderer had limped away, I’d snapped out of it and grabbed my father’s gun. I ran after him and shot him in the back. When he fell onto the black pavement, he rolled over to face me. The way he’d begged for his life filled me with hate because my father hadn’t been given that mercy. I’d stared into the murderer’s pleading eyes and fired into his chest until the gun clicked in my hands. I’d kicked him to make sure he was truly dead, as if the glazed, wide-open eyes weren’t proof enough.
The unmistakable sound of a zipper rolling down finally snaps me out of my fear. A lithe shadow stalks toward us. Hope sparks the fight in me, clearing my mind and making me realize Rand’s let go of me to take his dick out. I’m completely free.
Charcoal eyes flicker at me as the shadow nods.
I gather up all the courage I can muster, wanting to make sure that if this doesn’t work out, that at least he knows the truth.
“Rand,” I shout.
“What?” He doesn’t even bother to look up from his dick, assuming I’m a nonthreat.
“Sol didn’t kill your assassin…” That stops him. He finally meets my gaze, narrowing his eyes as I tell the truth. “Idid.”
I push him back with all my strength, taking pleasure in his stunned face. It hardly makes him move, but it gives me enough room to bring up my leg and kick my stiletto into his naked dick as hard as I can before running.
He’s howling as I tear off my shoes and he limps to catch me by my dress strap, ripping the neckline deeper, but a whistle of wind flies by my ear and his howl ends in a scream.
I turn around to see him writhing on the ground, clutching his dick and his shoulder. A long dagger extends out from just underneath his left collarbone and I whip my head around to see Sabine marching toward us.
“I thought he was done with me.”
“He took everyone else off your detail but me,” she answers as she quickly passes me to get to Rand. “He’s been trying to put together why a Chatelain man murdered your father. It seems this one had the missing pieces.”
