Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Zeke is leaning against the desk drinking a whiskey. His brother, Jericho, whom I recognize from the other day, is standing with his arm on the mantle of the fireplace. He, too, is holding a tumbler of whiskey. A man I don’t know is sitting on the couch with my laptop on his lap, that gun in its Ziploc on the coffee table beside a bottle of whiskey and an empty tumbler. A fire is burning in the fireplace. It’s not a cold night but it’s comforting hearing the crackling of wood.
I clear my throat.
“Come inside, Blue,” Zeke tells me.
I go to stand next to him. He puts his drink down and wraps a hand around the back of neck to lead me toward the others.
“Sit down,” Zeke says. “Jericho, Robbie, this is Blue. Blue, my brother, Jericho and Robbie.”
I nod, wipe my sweaty hands on my jeans.
“Relax,” he whispers. He walks over to the desk and picks up his whiskey, makes a point of taking a sip while I watch, then hands it to me. He’s making sure I know it’s not drugged. I take it, although I don’t like the stuff, especially after the other night, and drink a sip. He’s right, I need to relax. They don’t know anything. Hell, I hardly know anything.
“Where did you get the laptop?” Jericho asks.
“I already told you, it was her father’s,” Zeke says.
His brother’s eyes, which are different colors, are zeroed in on me like he’s trying to read my mind. “I’d like to hear it from her,” he says with a quick glance in his brother’s direction.
I wonder about the dynamic between them. I think Jericho is older but they’re close in age. What is their relationship like? The two times I’ve seen them together it seems tense. There’s some unresolved history between them.
“It’s my father’s,” I repeat.
“And the gun?”
“My father’s.” I scratch my nose and look up at Zeke who narrows his eyes.
“Well, that’s odd,” Jericho says.
Zeke folds his arms, leaning against the mantle alongside his brother.
“How so?” I ask.
“How so, Robbie?” Jericho mimics.
“Thanks for asking,” Robbie says. Is this some game to them? Robbie continues typing something onto the laptop, so it takes him a moment to drag his gaze to mine. “Funny enough, it’s registered to Imperium Valens Invictum. New Orleans chapter.”
I’m confused. Imperium Valens Invictum. “Am I supposed to know what that is?” I ask, shifting my gaze from the man to Zeke.
“IVI. The Society,” he says.
The Society, as in his secret society. As in The Cat House and whatever else they have going on behind those high walls.
“That doesn’t make any sense. How do you even know? The serial number is filed off.”
“Not well enough,” Robbie says.
“So, unless your father is a member of The Society, and I’m pretty sure he’s not, you’re lying,” Jericho says, accusation loud and clear. He does not like me.
My throat goes dry, my stomach twisting in knots as I look up at Zeke whose face is stone.
“Explain yourself,” Jericho says.
“Where did you get the gun, Blue?” Zeke asks.
“I—”
Zeke crosses the room so fast, I gasp and lean as far back in the chair as I can. He grips a handful of hair and tugs my head backward. I wrap both hands around his forearm.
“We made a deal, you and me. Not five fucking minutes ago. I’m done with your lies. You tell the truth, now, or it’s off.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you lose my protection. Your sister loses my protection.”
“You can’t do that.”
“No? What did I tell you upstairs about playing me for a fool?”
“I’m not. I swear. Let go. You’re hurting me.”
He looks at me. I’m half off my seat trying to alleviate the pressure on my scalp. He releases me but doesn’t move away.
I rub my scalp and see how Jericho is watching us. I get the feeling he wants to know what’s going on between his brother and me. I get the feeling he won’t like it that we fucked.
“I never told you it was my dad’s,” I say to Zeke. “You assumed and when you asked me I just—”
“You just lied. Which you seem to do fairly casually.”
I shake my head, look down at my lap, try to think. I wipe my eyes because this is going from bad to worse and I have a feeling we’re just getting started.
“Whose gun is it?” Jericho asks.
Jericho looks angry and like he’s not surprised. Zeke, though, there’s more there. Not just anger.
“I don’t know,” I say, my voice sounding more fragile than usual. At least the answer is true. “Can I?” I point to the whiskey and Zeke nods, so I pick it up and drink a sip. I hold onto it, to have something to do with my hands.
“Continue,” Zeke says.
I look up at them and I know I am in so far over my head. This world, I don’t belong here. These men are dangerous. So dangerous.