Page 48 of Save Her from Me

The screen blipped, revealing a smiling, older man with a boy of seven beside him. The family resemblance between us and the duo on the screen was undeniable. Dark eyes and hair, the same defined features.

But in Dad’s face, there was none of the warmth or kindness I knew from my brothers. I couldn’t have said what ruthlessness or cruelty appeared like in a facial expression, but what hid under his smacked of it.

“Hello, Dad,” I said. “Hey, Azrael. Look at you! You’re so tall.”

Our father smiled, crocodile-like. “Gabriel, what a surprise. Raphael, well, well. Both my older sons together. I was just giving your brother a lesson. The only child of mine who wants to spend time with his old dad. Give me a moment and we can speak in private.”

I sighed, pursing my lips as Dad hustled Azrael out of his office, calling out for Willow, his wife.

The image of the family man. All apart from the gun in pieces on his desk. There was nothing normal about the weaponry lesson he’d apparently been giving our brother.

He returned and settled. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I have a problem,” I said.

Dad’s focus shifted on the screen. Of course he hadn’t been looking at me. “Ah, my Ariel. Always the difficult one.”

That was so far from the truth it was astounding. Under his roof, I’d been a model daughter. Snarky, sure, but I’d never rebelled.

I gritted my teeth. “Do you remember at school I had an issue with a boy?”

“What girl doesn’t? All those short skirts and the man-trap makeup.” He chuffed a laugh. “Gabriel, catch me up, how’s business these days?”

“I told you about him,” I continued, louder. “It was the only time I’d troubled you with concerns over school.”

Dad’s smile shortened. “It’s been years since you lived here, Ariel. Why would I remember something like that? Should’ve kept your legs closed if you didn’t want male attention.”

My breath caught. One of my brothers growled.

Across the room, Jackson stiffened, his jaw tight.

Summoning words was hard. “Can you tell me if you’re familiar with the name?” I ground out.

“What name?”

I watched him like a hawk. “Landon Larson.”

Everyone in the room seemed to hold their breath.

Dad cocked his head. “I’m not sure. Gabriel, why sit there in silence? Did this Larson person offend you in some way?”

Gabe didn’t reply.

Dad swapped his prong of attack. “Raphael, my second born. Cat got your tongue, too?”

“It was my question, Dad,” I interjected.

He gave a testy huff. “Sounds like a conversation for your mother, not your father. Why do you bring this question to me?”

“He’s a man of interest to me.”

“In what way?”

“I have something to talk to him about.”

It was a game, conversing with him. He was evading answers like a pro. But he wasn’t denying anything, merely sidestepping.

I waited him out.

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