Page 5 of Unorthodox
I’d consider someone coming to kidnap his little sister a provocation.
I hold my breath as I stop at the door, still on my belly, knife in hand, listening. I need to get to my knees to twist the knob, but I don’t want the guy outside my window to have a clear shot at my back, either.
Every second will have to count.
I close my eyes tight, think about my mother. What she would have wanted for me.
Not this,certainly. But she’d at least want me to survive. Make my own path.
Maybe I just tell myself that to make myself feel better.
She died when I was seven.
What the fuck do I really remember about her, aside from the fact she despised my father and defied him at every turn? It got her killed, in the end.
Thinking of her death—an aneurism, so proclaimed by the doctor on the payroll of London Pharmaceuticals, my father’slegitimatebusiness—makes me start to panic. My stomach churns and a sour taste coats the inside of my mouth.
I close my eyes and force the memory back.
I cannot afford to panic.
I count to three in my head, like I always did when Danik dragged me to the deep end of our pool to jump. I was terrified of heights and horrified at the thought of drowning. Having my toes on the ledge sent me spiraling.
Counting to three helped.
And Max Bennett? If he gets his hands on me, I think that might be worse than drowning.
One.
Two.
Three.
When I open my eyes, I quickly get to my knees, reaching for the doorknob, holding my breath.
A floorboard creaks outside of my room.
I jump back, landing on my ass, the knife still in my trembling hand.
The door flies open.
A man stands in the doorway dressed in all black, holding a black handgun, aimed at my head. I can make out steel and sky-blue eyes, dark hair. Nothing else before my own eyes are drawn to the barrel of the gun.
“Addison.”
I swallow at the accented word, and I know immediately who this is.
It wasn’t the man outside my window.
It’s this one.
The one holding a gun in my face, his finger on the trigger.
Max Bennett.
South African drug lord, notorious sex trafficker, and the man my father sold me off to.
My mouth goes dry, and my entire body trembles, but I don’t put down the knife.
