I gave him a nod.
“Yes,” Kline said. “It’s been a while. What do you want?”
“No small talk, huh?” Bartholomew asked. “Good, because your yachts and mistresses don’t interest me. I need you to set up one of your snob parties—me and Carlyle as your guests.”
Kline glanced at the people around him from time to time, as if he was embarrassed to be seen talking to people in street clothes. Perhaps that was why Bartholomew bombarded him at that moment instead of having a phone call—it put the pressure on. “That bridge was made of steel, and you still managed to burn it down.”
Bartholomew’s stare was cold and hard, packed with a punch that didn’t require a fist. “It needed a remodel.”
“The answer is no, Bartholomew—”
“Then I’ll host my own dinner party. Your wife and two mistresses. Should be fun.”
Kline’s face instantly blanched.
I gave a subtle shake of my head. “And I thought I was supposed to be the bad guy…”
Bartholomew ignored me, his dark eyes on his opponent. “Text me the details.” His work finished, he walked away.
Kline watched him go before he turned to me. “Son of a bitch…”
Seven
Constance
Benton said I was welcome to his Range Rover to run errands, so I took the two of us shopping. I helped her pick out a couple gifts for her exchange with her friends, helped her pick out something for Benton, and I grabbed a few other things when she looked the other way. We pulled into the garage then walked into the house, my arms full of bags that we then sprawled out on the table.
“Can we wrap everything now?”
“Let’s have lunch first. What do you want?”
“Hot dogs.”
I chuckled and carried one of the bags toward my bedroom. “Try again.”
“Why are you taking that bag away?” A curious child with a million questions, she fired away, inquisitive.
“It’s just my makeup.”
“I don’t remember you buying makeup.”
I should have done this shopping before she was home from school, but I hadn’t planned ahead. Now that was she was home every day, I had to find ways to keep her entertained, and while I liked having her around, it was also nice having her outside the house for a full day. A lot easier to get stuff done. “Never mind. Let’s do the hot dogs.”
Her eyes instantly lit up. “Alright.” She moved into the kitchen to pull them out of the freezer.
I carried the bag in my bedroom and hid it in the closet so Claire wouldn’t discover it by mistake. Once the door was shut, I turned to go, but I spotted something out of place on the nightstand.
It was a statue.
Of an angel.
Not a shiny ceramic one from a department store. This was made of real stone, with pieces of dirt still stuck to the bottom along with bits of moss.
My heart stopped, and then the jolt of sheer terror that followed immediately kicked it back into motion. My eyes darted to the window, which looked the same as I last saw it, and then the doorway, knowing we weren’t alone.
I was instantly thrown back in time, back to the person I used to be, a survivor.
“Benton…” My hand reached for my back pocket and pulled out the phone, but the shakes were so bad that I dropped it on the floor before I could even get the light on.
That was when the front door opened.
There was no time to think. Only time to act.
I grabbed the knife in my nightstand then moved into the hallway. My knife raised with the intention to kill, I swung it before that grotesque smile could make me lose all my nerve. I would stab and stab until all his blood was drained and he was just bones.
My arm was thrown down, my wrist twisted, and then I was slammed into the wall. The air left my lungs when my back hit the solid surface. My eyes took in the man who’d bested me when he didn’t even know I was coming.
Benton kept me pinned as he wore his look of rage. I couldn’t move. I could barely breathe. Maniacal, he held me so tightly that he could squeeze the life out of me if he wanted to. He grabbed me so hard he bruised me in every place that he touched me.
The second I realized it was him, the air returned to my lungs. “He’s in the house…”
His strong hands released my body, and he was gone. “Claire.” He didn’t raise his voice, but his command shook the house. He withdrew his gun from the back of his jeans and moved into the kitchen.
I seized the knife off the rug then held it at my side. The weapon brought me comfort, but I felt like I didn’t need it anymore.
With her hand in his, he rounded the corner and brought her to me. “Stay here.”
“Daddy…I’m scared.” She hugged into my side, her arms snug around my hips.
He left us, his gun aimed, peering around the corners and investigating every room in the house. Silently he went, his heavy footsteps not loud like they usually were when he made his way around the house.
The two of us remained huddled together, breathing heavily, anticipating the sound of a gunshot.
“What’s happening?” she whispered. “Did…those scary men come back?”
I rubbed her back as I held her, my eyes still on the hallway. “It’s okay, Claire. Your father will protect us.”
It took a solid ten minutes for him to explore the entire house and the garage. When he was upstairs, I heard a subtle creak where the floorboards held his weight, but there was no other sound in the house. None of the windows was broken. The lock on the door wasn’t busted. There was no trace of Forneus—but there never was.
Benton returned, his gun now stowed in the back of his jeans. “All clear.”
Claire left my arms and ran straight for him.
I almost dropped my knife at his words. “Are you sure…?”
He picked her up and held her against his chest with a single arm. “Yes.” He rubbed her back and pressed a kiss to her forehead, his eyes on me. He didn’t ask any other questions, probably for Claire’s benefit. “Sweetheart, everything is alright. No need to worry.”
“Really?” she whispered.
“Yes. Didn’t mean to scare you.” He returned her to the floor and kneeled to give her an encouraging smile. It was fake, but to a little girl, she didn’t know the difference. “What’d you do today?”
Her arms stayed across her chest, and she swayed slightly. “Went shopping.”
“Yeah?” he asked. “What did you get?”
“Christmas presents.”
“You get anything for me?”
She started to lighten up at the questions, and this time, she gave a nod along with a smile.
“Tell me.”
“But it’s not Christmas…” She giggled.
“So?” He gave her a gentle tickle. “Come on, tell me.”
She laughed and swatted his hands away. “No, Dad! You’ll have to wait.”
“Ah, man…alright.” He got to his feet and gave her a quick rub on the head. “Hungry?”
She nodded.
“Go pick something out—”
“Hot dogs!”