“Yes, for money. And power. And protection. Because in this town, only the strong survive. And, by God, I swore I would be stronger than everyone. Because that way I could protect what’s mine. That way I could keep my people safe. So I could keep you safe.”
“Carlin—”
“I have over two hundred people living in this compound who depend on me to keep them safe, to put food on their tables, to keep their kids clothed.” He grabbed hold of her shoulders and shook her. “And those two hundred and something people combined don’t even come close to being as important to me as you. Don’t you get that?”
She shook her head. “What?”
“I would sacrifice each and every one of them for you.”
“But I’m just your sister. I’m not important.”
“Jesus, Georgina. Of course, you are.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I always tried to keep some distance between us because I thought it would be easier on you if something ever happened to me. Seems I did too good a job if you don’t realize that everything I fucking do is to keep you safe.”
She sat on the bed, her legs no longer able to hold her up. “You love me.”
“Yes, I love you.” Then he pointed at her, his face growing cold. “Which is why you’re going to be secured in this room until you tell me where the fuck you were and who the hell I need to kill.”
She jumped up. “What? No, Carlin, you can’t do that.”
“Watch me. I’m going to have a bolt attached to the other side of that door. In the meantime, you’ll have a guard. Someone will bring you your food.”
Then he turned and walked out. She rushed to open the door and nearly crashed into a behemoth of a man standing on the other side. He turned and looked down at her.
“Fred, hi.”
He just stared at her. Like his neck, Fred’s personality was pretty much on-existent. He was a tank of a man. Built wide, every inch of him muscle. She tried to step around him.
“Excuse me,” she said politely.
He just stood there. And stared.
“I need to go talk to Carlin.”
Nothing. Nada. Sometimes she wondered if there was all that much going on behind those eyes of his.
“Fuck! You’re not going to move, are you?” She stepped back and slammed the door, kicking it a few times for good measure.
Seemed like she’d just swapped one prison for another. And she wasn’t sure which was worse.
* * *
Something woke her. For a moment, she was completely disorientated, thinking she was back in that horrible cell. When she realized she was in her bedroom, though, the relief wasn’t as intense as she’d thought it would be.
She wasn’t sad to have escaped, was she? They’d imprisoned her, threatened her with torture and, even worse, with having to pee in a bucket. She should not have any feelings towards them.
She. Should. Not.
Yeah, then how come you can’t stop thinking about them?
She slammed a pillowed over her face, taking deep breaths. The noise came again. She moved the pillow away and sat up. A salt rock lamp was set on dim next to her bed. She turned the lamp up with the dial.
There it was again. By the window. Something was hitting against it. She grabbed the baseball bat she kept under her bed. Even though she was under Carlin’s very thorough protection she felt safer having a weapon. This was the best she could do since Carlin refused to teach her to shoot.
She pulled back the curtain. The moon was full tonight, providing plenty of light. She peered cautiously out the window.
Holy fuck.
She let the curtain drop and took a step away from the window, as though hoping he hadn’t seen her. Her body trembled. What was he doing here? How had he found her?