Page 101 of Second Sets Omnibus
“Where is he?” I murmur, peering at every window, half expecting the damn boogeyman to pop out and attack.
My skin tingles in anticipation of the night ahead. We’ve been out for twenty-four hours and haven’t reached out. We may be twenty-one and old enough to hold our own, but in his eyes, we are children he’s successfully controlled.
“I don’t care as long as he’s not lying in wait, ready to attack us,” Kieran says, frowning up at the window when we exit the car. “Again,” he murmurs, shivering at the memory of Nigel popping out and taking us by surprise. He lives to make our lives miserable.
Looking around, I take stock of everything around us. Empty driveway. Empty street. The only logical explanation is his vehicle is in the garage, or he’s not here. I peek in the garage window, only to find Gloria’s BMW. Relief slams into me, and for the first time today, I feel like I can breathe, and the heavy pressure lifts. Not that my father won’t punish us when he returns, but we have a reprieve from his cruelty. For now, at least. That’s all I can ask for after a long day of waiting.
“He’s not here,” I rejoice confidently, leading the way and quietly entering through the front door. Silence clings to every inch of the space, and peace washes over me for once in my damn life.
“Maybe we got away with it,” Kieran says with false hope.
“Don’t hold your breath. Now, I’m going to bed,” I say, not waiting for his response, and quietly enter my bedroom at the top of the stairs.
Darkness greets me like an old friend, enveloping me in a warm hug. Once again, something eerie crashes over me, and my hairs stand on end. A lone figure hovers in the shadows, looking out my window.
“It’s that girl, isn’t it?” Gloria asks in a haughty tone, turning toward me. No expression breaks through the darkness concealing her face. “That bitch from Central City? The same one Kieran obsessed over as a kid.” She scoffs at that, coming toward me. “My advice?”
“Sure,” I say, committing to a non-answer with a shrug.
“Leave her as far behind as possible. Those Central girls will only bring you one of two things: disease or pregnancy,” she hisses in disgust. “She’ll only bring you boys down. You’re destined for greatness.”
“Greatness, huh?” I rub my chin, milling over her words.
A normal child would preen under her confidence and praise with a grin. But I refuse. Gloria may seem like she’s looking out for our best interest, but by the devious gleam in her eyes, she’s up to something. I’m not sure what. What could she gain from this conversation?
“You boys have talent, and the word on the street is you are applying to a big competition?” She raises a brow, stepping more into the light of the moon beaming through the windowpanes. “Something in, say… California?”
I raise a brow, my heart secretly thumping against my ribs. If it’s out in the open that we may go to California, my father might screw it all up by lifting his finger. It’s bad enough we’re financially strapped to him with our cars and phones, but he could take them away with the snap of his fingers. There’s nothing more heart-stopping than realizing we’re dangling a treat in front of his face to hurt us with more.
“I can make sure he doesn’t have a clue,” she sniffs, sticking her nose in the air.
“And what do you want in return, Gloria? You can’t be doing this out of the kindness of your heart. So, tell me what you’re willing to do and what you want in return.” I lift a brow when her shoulders push back, and she turns on the lamp next to my bed, revealing the black and blue bruises lining her face. I’d gasp if I were surprised by the marks on her body, but I’m not. Figures Nigel would work out his frustrations on her.
“I’m your reminder, Asher,” she says, cringing when she runs a finger down her bruised cheek. “When you’re not here, he does this. And I’m tired of being a punching bag.” She waves her hand, showing the damage on her face and further down her body.
“Fair enough,” I say, looking her up and down as she clings to the silk robe encasing her body.
“You want the money to go? You want the car to get you there without issues? Do you want your father not to know anything about it? I can help, but I have stipulations,” she says, straightening more with a cringe.
“Enlighten me, Gloria. How would my father not know about the missing money or the Tahoe? How do you intend to get away with any of that when you’re just as stuck? Hmm?” I raise my brow, trying to keep the condescending tone from leaking through. If I remain pessimistic about the situation, I can’t get my hopes up on making our great escape. Nothing will stop us. Not even Nigel Montgomery.
You know, all I wanted was my bed and a nice long sleep without this bullshit floating around in my mind. A clean cut from my father’s grasp is all I’ve begged for, for years now. But every day gets worse and worse, and his control tightens on our reigns. Some would scoff at our age and tell us to leave without notice, but they don’t have a fucking clue what this life is like. Having someone hovering above you and micromanaging your every financial move is more complex than they could imagine.Add in fists and shouting matches—yeah, it’s heaven. Nigel controls every aspect of our life. So, even at twenty-one, we’re stuck in his grasp until we can slowly ease our way out.
For once in Gloria’s pathetic life, she looks stricken when she scrunches her bruised nose. “It’s my money,” she says in a soft voice. “It’s all I have, but I could help you get there and set up. Any extras will help.”
My brows fly into my hairline, and my lips pop open. Hers? My father doesn’t allow us to have our means, keeping us tightly wound around his grubby finger.
“Why?” I ask, crossing my arms. “What’s stopping you from taking Camilla and running with what you have?” Leaning against the wooden door frame, I sigh, watching the indecisive cross her face. If she had money, then she could flee without a glance back.
“It has to be you. Once you’re out, I can get out,” she whispers with glossy eyes. “I have something to take care of before I can leave. Besides, he’d hunt me down and drag me back, kicking and screaming. Think of Camilla. What would he do to her? He’d take custody and bury me so deep in court fees I’d never come up for air. I’d end up like your mother.” A cold slap in the face would have been better than hearing my past on her lips. For once, Gloria is right. She’d end up at the wrong end of a needle and buried so deep her secrets would never resurface—like my mother. Longing hits me out of nowhere, but I swallow it down. I don’t have the time or energy to relive my tragic past with the cravings for my mother.
“And what’s that?” I ask, clearing my throat and shaking away the thoughts in my head.
“Do you want the deal or not?” she huffs with obvious annoyance.
“Maybe,” I say with a nonchalant shrug. “If you keep your mouth shut about it.”
Gloria’s lips thin, and she nods. “I have two stipulations.”
