Page 11 of His Deadly Lies

Except their strangeness doesn’t sit well with me. We’ve got plenty of people on the payroll, all kinds and sizes working for us. But on-call thugs from the emergency line? Who the hell did Uncle Paolo call?

The phone clenched in my hand gives a beep, followed by a series of vibrations that nearly have me jumping out of my skin. I jerk my arm out of Thug Two’s hand, glaring at him and gesturing toward the cell.

“If you want to explain to my father that you’re manhandling me to the point where I’m unable to take his call, then I’ll be happy to let this go to voicemail,” I tell Thug Two, venom dripping from each syllable.

He loosens his hold only enough for me to press the screen. I keep my gaze trained on the men until they finally drop their hold entirely, backing up a step to disappear around the other side of the car. I’m still in their sights, and they’ve got weapons hidden.

“The emergency call? What happened?” Edward asks in a roar once I pick up.

Before he has a chance to get into questioning, I hastily blurt out, “I’ve got it covered now. I’m fine. They’re taking Rafel to the hospital.”

“Are you sure?” he continues.

The men in the first and second car take off and merge into oncoming traffic. They better be heading for Lakeside Medical Center.

That’s where the family always goes for discretion, the administration in our pocket.

“Tell your men to back the fuck up. I’m fine. There’s no need for them to get grabby.” I allow a hint of frustration to seep into the words, enough so that Edward lets out a small growl.

“Put me on speakerphone.”

I shoot both goons a smug look as I click on the speaker icon, holding the phone toward them to make sure they don’t miss a single word.

“Take her to Lakeside. Knock her out if she’s too much trouble,” Edward tells them in no uncertain terms.

My jaw drops. “Papa—”

“She needs to be looked after. Ensure she is okay.”

He hangs up without letting me defend myself again, and in the wake of my surprise, the frustration morphs into a larger beast with bigger fangs. How the fuck can I prove I’m just as capable of handling the reins when one small thing happens, and my father treats me like an infant?

It’s absolutely demoralizing.

My control slips away when both of the thugs round the car. One of them reaches for the door while the other pushes lightly against my side to get me to sit my ass down in the back seat.

I’m the heir in name only.

It’s a hard reality that settles in my stomach like an anchor. There is nothing about my position that grants me the sort of very real power Edward wields. I’m set up to take the throne but now? With Rafel down, my attention scattered, and the car taking me toward the hospital against my will?

I have to fight the urge to kick the back of the seat. Like a child throwing a tantrum, because if that’s how my family wants to treat me…

I sink with a sigh, the sound immediately prompting one of the men to turn around in his seat to stare. Exhaustion presses down on me, and I slowly lose the battle of will versus capability, and I’m too tired to do more than grumble the entire way.

The men are back to help me through the front doors, but once I’m in the lobby, with the sterile scent of cleaners all around me, I dig my heels in.

“I’m fine, and there’s no reason for me to be here.” My protests fall on deaf ears.

Thug Two shakes his head and tells me, “The boss says you’re supposed to be looked at, and that’s exactly what we have to do.”

“Or you can go against his word and take a bathroom break in Fort Wayne,” I say bitterly. “You know, whatever you want.”

Why is it that some people are always willing to bend the rules a little bit but never in my favor? It’s the pain talking. The second I sat down, the throbbing in my thigh and knee became too loud to ignore. A little soak in a tub and some pills and I’ll be all right. I have to be.

The two of them look at each other just as a doctor rounds the corner. A familiar face at last. He’s been our family physician for more years than I can remember.

“I received a call from your father.” Doctor Jones looks directly at me as he speaks. A kindly man, he’s tall and jovial with a distinctive Bob Ross vibe without any of the painting skills.

He’s been our family physician for longer than I can remember.

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