Page 24 of Duke
Seeking help, I glance to my side where Mason has been paying careful attention to the volley of words. His head moves subtly, and I know he’s read the expression on my face. Eject. Get us out of this line of discussion.
Mason throws out a hand, grabbing the spotlight for himself. “So, Derek, Hunter told us the two of you didn’t appreciate how we handled the events that occurred at the auction. But I want to know just what the purpose was of some of that. Elliot Ashford’s involvement, for instance.”
Lennon stiffens in my hold, tilting her head to the side. From behind her, I can’t see her expression, but I’d imagine she’s probably got those curious, intelligent eyes beamed straight at my father.
“I’ll second that one.” Duke exhales harshly. “Hunter very specifically told us she’d be brought up onto the stage, that he’d handle getting her there. And he did do that. But then he disappeared, leaving us without a clue how to handle her or what you wanted done. It was fucked. Whatever you and my father choose to believe, we did follow your instructions.”
Derek’s brow lifts on his forehead, but then he chuckles, like this isn’t news to him. He seems to be weighing carefully whatever he’s about to say. His lips curl into an amused smirk. “Elliot lucked out. We found something else.”
Lennon’s body jerks in surprise, and my brows dart together at his strange choice of words. What. The. Fuck. But sometimes, it’s better to let my dad just speak his mind and gather all the little crumbs of information that spill out. I had no idea we’d be getting into this vein of conversation tonight, and the pain in my shoulder is almost too much to be able to process anything. I’m sweating. Mentally exhausted, too. But I have to stick this out. We didn’t discuss this at all, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to go down this road either. Not when Lennon’s name was on that fucking list, and she ended up getting taken. It can’t be a goddamn coincidence. If only we knew what really happened and the purpose behind it. The horrendous thought that maybe my father was involved swirls in my head, making me want to vomit.
Beside me, Duke clears his throat. “Whereismy father, anyway? That was his pet project, and it went to complete shit.”
My old man smirks. “I’m afraid Tristan didn’t hang around. Must have had better things to do.” His beady eyes travel to Mason. I don’t like the look in his eye. He sits up straighter at his desk, rearranging some papers and setting some sort of ledger on top of them. “Mason, your daddy—we’re getting closer and closer to getting him home to you. Things have come to light, and I really think it’s going to happen.” He pauses, watching the blood rush from Mason’s face. “I know you’ll enjoy having your father around, won’t you, son?” He pauses—for effect no doubt—before bringing his filthy gaze to our girl. “Oh, and, Lennon?” He gets up, keeping his eyes pinned on her, and comes around the side of his desk, standing there with his arms crossed over his massive, puffed-out chest. My throat goes dry, unsure what else he could possibly have up his sleeve. “You’re welcome to try your hand at being one of our cage girls, sweet thing. I’m certain Morgan would be happy to train you up right. There are some hidden benefits to it.”
Stunned, my grip on Lennon loosens, and she jerks free of my hold, lunging at my dad, ready to plow her fist into his gut. In a flash, he subdues her, each of her wrists in one of his hands. But apparently, she’s ready for him to do just that. Before any of us can leap into action, she takes care of him herself. Our girl brings her knee up and slams it right into my dad’s junk. He howls, rage spitting from him in foul curses and bellows. “Take that, you limp-dick motherfucker.”
It’s all we can do to pry Lennon away from the monster and make our exit.
THIRTEEN
DUKE
There’ssomething about what Derek said that’s got me on edge. I can’t quite pinpoint what it was that bothered me so much because a lot of his foul-mouthed insinuations were problematic at the very least. It’s going to bug the shit out of me until I figure it out. He’d been firing way too much at us too damn quickly, almost as if the onslaught had been completely premeditated. It’s not surprising I can’t wrap my brain around every last detail. Or maybe we’re simply all too tired, too overwhelmed by how tonight played out for Bear to think about much else.
Poor fucking guy. I feel awful. He’d been way too quiet on the way home. The rest of us could sense the tension rolling off him—ripples of horrified angst and regret and humiliation that threatened to send him spiraling right off the deep end. The loss in the ring had been bad enough, but nothing Derek had done or said had helped mitigate the misery either.
Then once Lennon unleashed on him, we had no choice but to hightail it out of there. We’d left Derek bent at the waist, cupping himself, and swearing. There’d been some shouts from his security detail that we’d heard as we left the building, but fortunately, no one had followed.
Now that we’re home, I’m tired, but also too keyed up to sleep. I blow out a frustrated breath before pouring myself some whiskey and taking a deep swallow. Letting the expensive liquor slide down my throat, I pick up both the half-full tumbler along with the bottle and take them out to the back patio. It’s past one in the morning, and I have the entire backyard to myself, so I sit on one of the loungers, as is my habit, and look up at the moon and the stars. I’ve always loved to do this, ever since I was a kid, and it was my fucking escape. I’d sneak outside and lay in the grass anytime my parents fought before their divorce. They’d have one row after another about who fucking knew what. I was too young to understand. All I knew was that they were unhappy together. And I was sad watching them fall apart. The night sky… well, it became my solace, in a way.Gah.Running my hand over my face, I shake my head. I haven’t had nearly enough alcohol to be waxing poetic.
I take another sip of the whiskey, then slick my tongue over my lips, making sure to get every last drop while going over the absolute BS we witnessed in Derek’s office tonight. To think there was a time when I was younger that I kind of looked up to Bear’s dad. Derek wasn’t scary like Murdock, and he didn’t smack Bear around like my father did me. I let a half-chuckle slip from my lips. As we’d gotten older, that adoration had fallen away when I realized how manipulative Derek could be and the way he took advantage of every one of Bear’s successes from football to—eventually—fighting in the ring. He’s a user.
It’s not a wonder Bear’s mom, Marci, is a drunken shell of a woman. Her husband’s brand of calculated abuse extends to her, as well. He plays games with her head. Fools her into thinking he only has eyes for her when he so obviously does not. Maybe she does know, and she uses the alcohol to bury her head in the sand? To cope. Totally possible. Either way, their entire family dynamic is one huge clusterfuck.
Come to think of it, Nikki’s not much different than Marci Pierce. Only instead of drinking herself silly to forget her husband’s cheating ways, my stepmother allows my father to buy her with pretty clothing and jewelry. I know what she’s after from my dad, always have, even if Lennon doesn’t see it. But I’ll be fucked if I can fully figure outhisfascination with Nikki Bell.
She’s a looker, as is her daughter. I suppose I can’t deny that. But there’s so much in Lennon that Nikki simply doesn’t have. It was never really Lennon’s looks that drew me to her. It was her independence. Her drive. Her fire. I fucking loved it all.
And I never fucking told anyone. How could I? That first winter break that I came home from college… shit. Juliette had been gone a little over a year. That’s when things began to change for me. And I fuckin’ hated myself for it—notjustbecause she was my stepsister, but because she was Juliette’s friend. It made me feel awful that I could possibly be looking at her like that. I’ve lived with the guilt of it for years. I guess it makes sense that once again, I began to spend time looking up at the stars and pondering my existence.
I tip my drink back, downing the contents, my jaw set. Stella Bella. I exhale slowly, wondering where she is as I pop a few buttons free on my shirt.
Upon our return home, I don’t know what Lennon ended up deciding to do because I fuckin’ doubt her own room is an option. The last thing we need tonight would be a panic attack or for her to end up sleepwalking into the pool again because she’s overwrought by the idea of staying in the room where she now knows she was attacked and taken.
She’ll probably crash in Bear’s room again. He’d retrieved ice for his arm from the freezer and headed upstairs, so maybe she’d followed. A laugh gurgles up from my chest. Then again, she just unmanned his dad. I don’t know if that makes things weird or not, if he was proud of her for it—I sure as fuck was—or if it’s made things awkward.
Maybe Mase? I suppose she could be with him, too. I swivel my neck, looking back toward the house. There’s a faint light coming from the tiny attic window. I figured he might venture up there. No doubt, he didn’t take what Derek said about them being on the verge of springing Murdock from prison very well. Hell, he could have even invited Lennon up there with him.
All I’ve ended up doing since coming out here is wildly ruminating on one thing after another without getting much of anywhere.Fuuuck.I lean forward, setting my empty glass beside the chair.
“Duke.”
My head snaps to the side, my eyes finding the raspy source of my name in the dark. “Hey.” My gaze roams over Mason. His posture is stiff, his jaw rigid. He’s barefoot and shirtless, and if I squint, I can kinda make out some charcoal smeared on his chest and his cheekbone from whatever he was drawing before he came to find me. “What’s going on? Everyone okay?”
He makes apffftsound before sitting sideways on the lounger across from me, resting his elbows on his thighs. His hands dangle between his knees, charcoal staining his fingertips. “Bear’s as well as can be expected, I think. I asked if he wanted any more of the meds I had, and he said no fucking thank you.” His lips quirk for a moment, but then slide right back into a frown. “So at least he’s sort of got his head on straight. But as the drugs leave his system, he’ll probably be a real dick again.”
“Lennon?”
