Page 30 of Orion Ruined

I don’t give him time to respond. This is non-negotiable. I cut the call and get to dressing. I choose my shoes first, black, just like the three-piece suit in front of me. Some may find it boring, but it keeps me focused, organized, and in control, whereas my tats, rings, and bracelets remind me of who I am. In my world, I cannot be seen as anything but in control. That’s my external persona, something I’ve learned practicing law.

Which reminds me as I tighten my tie, take my holster, place my gun in it, and secure it under my arm, that I’m angry, and I’m not breathing properly.

I go down to the kitchen. My breathing isn’t settling, my cock isn’t twitching anymore, and Maisy is nothing but a name. I pour myself a cup of coffee but then, incensed, I slam the cup against the wall. The coffee splatters all over the kitchen floor, the cup in dozens of pieces.

I step over the broken crockery and pour myself another.

The sensors outside my house ping Kai’s arrival on my cell. He probably rode his motorbike like a lunatic. I should’ve thought this through before asking him to show up at mine immediately. But had I told him over the phone, he’d have reacted in his usual impulsive way. One day, his lack of control may cost him his life.

He rushes inside my house in full bike gear, and as he enters the kitchen he spots the mess on the floor. “What happened here? Is Maisy okay?”

“Grab yourself some coffee,” I mutter. “Let’s wait for Logan.”

Kai understands me and knows not to ask any more questions until Logan shows up. He’s the one who feels the most out of the three of us. That’s why the thing with Natasha hurt him so much.

He pours himself a cup of coffee and leans against the table. He pulls up a chair with his boot and rests his foot on it.

My cell pings with Logan’s arrival at my house. He hasn’t gone home yet as he closes for business at midday. He rushes in too, dressed in a three-piece suit like mine, except his is stained in two places and all scrunched up from dealing with ‘business’ behind the doors of his strip club.

“What did you do, fly here?” Kai asks him.

“I was in the neighborhood. There was some fuck-up with Bobby, I had to bail him out. I sent him home and I came here,” he explains as he pours himself a coffee.

“Okay, we’re here.” Kai’s impatience is evident. “What is it?”

They both look at me. It’s rare that I’m this enraged and silent at the same time.

“Did you do your due diligence on Maisy as I asked you to?” I eventually demand.

“Orion, we rely on you to do proper research on anyone. You’re good at it.” Kai shrugs. “Just like I’m good at killing people in the ring. I wouldn’t ask you to, would I?”

“Very well. Let’s not waste any more time, then.” I read from the report on my cell, sent this morning by the PI who does this stuff for me. “Maisy Roy is actually Melissa Roystein, a genius from Princeton, NJ, with a photographic memory. At the age of twelve her IQ was recorded as 155, and since her mother was already dead and her stepdad was a gambler, he sold her to Milan the Dog for a period of four years.” I look at them. “Yes, literally sold her.”

Kai’s hands clench into fists as I talk, and Logan’s wicked eye tic comes on, the one that appears just before he kills someone.

“She’s a genius? I knew there was something special about her,” Logan mutters.

Kai shakes his head in disbelief. “She was sold like a slave. I’m gonna kill that motherfucker!”

“So she knew of him before. Huh.” Logan gets it first. “She lied to us.”

“She was doing his books for four years, although she may’ve been doing something else for him too,” I continue.

Kai’s still in protective mode. “Do you think she had a choice at that age?!”

“At the age of sixteen, she’s sent back to her stepdad but runs away from home,” I say. “Next, she pops up on the radar four years later as a tenant in Jerry Trialow’s building, where she offered to help him in exchange for her rent.” I finish and look at Kai. “What are the chances of her going back to work for the same guy?”

Kai looks away; disappointment, anger, hurt, betrayal–everything is clear on the man’s face. He finally responds with a growl. “Get her here. Right now! If she’s lying, I’ll kill her myself!”

It breaks my heart to see him hurt, but nobody lies to us and lives.

Logan and I look at each other. Kai doesn’t need this. If he kills her, it’ll be Natasha all over again. Guilt and remorse would follow him everywhere for another year. Poor guy just can’t get a break.

“Are you sure?” I ask.

“Just bring her here!” he orders through his teeth.

I go up to her room, knock loudly a few times, and open the door. Maisy’s in bed, the TV remote next to her. She’s lying on her side, facing away from me, her knee bent and her ass pointing right at me.

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