This is my chance to escape. Bram takes a step back and puts his hand to his face. I dart past him the second he pulls his hand away and sees blood. I don’t make it far—only as far as the door. Bram catches me around the waist and drags me back to the bed. I swing, ball my fists, hammer them into his back, but they might as well be drops of rain to him.
“I may not be your father…” Bram grabs my arms. “But if you hit me again, you’re going over my knee!”
“What?!” I blink in surprise.
“You heard me.” Bram pushes me back against the bed and walks toward the door.
I don’t react. I stay on the bed with his threat hanging in the air. The door slams, and I hear it lock. By the time I snap back to reality, it’s too late. I run to the door and try to open it, but the hopelessness of the situation quickly sets in. I still pound on it. Scream. There’s no response from the other side. I sink to the floor, and tears fill my eyes.
I never should’ve never come here.
I never should’ve gotten into Bram’s car.
Now I’ve put my brother is serious danger, and there’s nothing I can do to fix it.
I really am a disappointment to everyone who depends on me…
Chapter Fourteen
Bram
I leave my house angry. Not because Kiana hit me. Not even because she drew blood. I’m angry at myself for losing control, for threatening her, and for meaning what I said. I wish I could say I didn’t, but she pushed me to the breaking point.
All I’m trying to do is protect her.
Protect her brother. Fix this fucking mess they’re both in.
She doesn’t get it. Her pride has put blinders over her eyes. She’s come to terms with what she has to do to keep making payment to Mr. Diaz, but it’s a dangerous road that will never get safer. I see that. I wish she could too. Mr. Diaz, and Max by extension, have turned her body into a commodity that is bought and sold.
Sure, it could all turn out for the best, and the only thing she ever does is dance on the stage or behind the curtain. But what if someone wants more? What if they offer more? I don’t want to think about that, or allow her to put herself in that position. People who are taken beyond their comfort zone out of desperation and obligation don’t always make the right choices.
So I’ll make them for her. I’ll fix this problem. It’s not my responsibility, but I’m choosing to take control of the situation. Because last night meant something to me, and I don’t want it to be the last one I share with Kiana. Maybe I’ve already fucked that up, and she won’t forgive me for threatening her, but at least I’ll be able to sleep at night; even if it’s in an empty bed. She’ll be safe. That’s what matters.
“Good morning, Mr. Ward.” Joanna greets me with a hot cup of coffee and a smile.
“Good morning.” I take the coffee. “Please call Keaton for me and set up a meeting for this afternoon.”
“Keaton?” She blinks in surprise. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, this is a personal matter.” I nod and walk to my office.
Keaton Ramsey. He’s my go-to guy when I need someone with an edge. He’s ex-Military like me—a former Navy SEAL who adapted to civilian life by starting a security firm. Sometimes I wonder if I should’ve chosen a profession that still lets me carry a gun, especially at a time like this.
I normally only call Keaton when I have a high-profile client in town who feels like they need protection. That’s rare these days. Lawson was the one who could always land those clients, and most of them took their money elsewhere after he left the company. I hated losing the investors, but I don’t miss the chaos of having people like that around the office on a regular basis.
“Mr. Ward?” Joanna pushes my door open. “I talked with someone at the security firm. Mr. Ramsey has an opening this afternoon if you can go to his office.”
“I can.” I give her a nod. “Book the appointment.”
“Yes, sir.” She smiles and closes my door.
I could unlock my gun cabinet and pay Mr. Diaz a visit on my own, but I’d prefer to do things the right way. One thing I’ve learned from dealing with Keaton over the years is that there is a hierarchy in this city. The man who sits at the head of the hierarchy is a guy named Giovanni De Luca. Keaton knows him. M they’re friends; I don’t know. I do know that I need to find out where Mr. Diaz falls in the hierarchy before I pick a fight with the wrong fucking people.
Hopefully it won’t come to that.
But it’s better to be prepared, just in case.
“Bram! It’s been a while!” Keaton stands up from his desk when I walk into his office.
“Yes, it has.” I shake his hand.
“Want a drink?” He motions to the selection of liquor behind his desk—good stuff too, obviously for clients.
“I’m good.” I hold up my hand and sit down. “Thank you, though. How are you adjusting to life in the city?”
“Busier than Penny Grove, but my wife likes it here.” He shrugs. “I’ve learned to keep her happy, especially now that she’s expecting.”
“Really?” A smile spreads across my face. “Congratulations, man.” My eyes drift to the picture of his son that sits on his desk. “Guess that’ll be rather interesting,
