Mere moments later, I stop in front of the correct unit. The garage door is open. The glow from the streetlamp barely floods into the room.Don’t focus on Lux, just kill him,I warn myself as I step inside. My eyes adjust to the dim, bare room. I instinctively reach to pull out my 9mm. That swift, agile movement is useless since Luxury took my gun.
Shit, I’m empty-handed. I should have thought to bring my back up.
I remain silent. That should be my advantage.
My hand touches the cold metal doorknob. How did I allow this to happen? Luxury’s mum is her weakness.
Emotion should not drive me. Sentiment was one of the first rules my father warned me about. Total detachment is paramount. Yet, if something has happened to Luxury, how could I forgive myself? She has professed herself as being mine, so it is my duty to protect my possession.
I open the door and step into an all-white hallway with TV monitors turned at a 180-degree angle.
The panels are off. But a male voice begins through a loudspeaker.
“Hello. There is no need for me to introduce myself, is there? Although, you’ve made it your mission and that of others on your payroll to dredge up my location—without success. Let’s just sum this up as our first meeting.”
Each TV panel activates, live streaming the surrounding areas outside. Each monitor changes. Everhart allows me a glimpse into his paranoia. I stare at streets surrounding a five-block radius around his place. He intends to shock me, though I don’t react.
“Victor Tudor, or shall I call you, Prince, or theDuke of Arlington? At the exact moment someone begins to take an interest in me, I make note. I get toknowthat person.”
Instead of a live stream, there are photos of myself, my parents, and the Queen at publicized events displayed on each screen.
“You’re proficient at shying away from the cameras. No social media to speak of. The fuzzy Wikipedia photo, I’m sure, met your requirement. Does our little Luxxieknowyou?”
I wriggle my clenched jaw. “Dr. Everhart, you’re the genius. Let’s not wastemytime.Where are you?”
“Spoken like a true royal. The head of your security team, Monica Fife, has done well, under the circumstances. That little computer brain of yours, what’s his name? Paul, is it?” Charles delights in his false sense of omniscience. “Paul is actually very good at nibbling tiny bits of information I’ve fed him online. Now, allow me to answer your questions. The ones that supply the hard edge to your shoulder and that slight hardness to your jawline,” Everhart says. “Where is Luxury? Now, that very question is of most importance to you. No longer is searching out a man that has done nothing to you.Ihave done nothing toyou, Victor!” At the intensity of his shouting, the speakers rattle and jar. “Nothing to warrant your attention. What’s more important to you—my location or finding our beautiful Luxxie?”
My eyes roll away, chest puffed out. “You know the bloody answer to that.”
“Ahhh, I expected you to threaten me. Say ‘if something had happened to her.’ ”
“Inaccurate assessment. The moment you began your monologue, I knew Luxury hadn’t been harmed,” I reply.
“That’s right. Because I would never hurt her. Two of us are talking, but only one of us has brought tears to her eyes. She told me about you, Victor.”
“Where is she?”
“I’m vested in Luxxie’s future. Maybe even more than Jonah. I’ve known the girl her entire life. She cares about you. But what are your feelings for her?”
“That’s none of your concern.”
“Yeah . . . and everyone has made baseless accusations about me. The two of us know who’s the deviant. Donotturn my little Luxxie against me, Victor.”
All the TVs turn off. An electronic lockclicks,and the door down the hallway opens. Luxury’s standing with her back to the wall, andmygun trained on the open door. That’s a safety tactic I’ll not have to instruct her on. She’s also holding a pink faux leather notebook in her other hand. “I thought you were . . . him.” Groaning, she lowers my 9mm.
“You alright, Little One?” I ask, palm gliding over her cheek.
“As good as can be, under the circumstances.”
“Where is thewanka?”
“Gave me this.” She lifts the notebook tentatively then gestures toward the interior. “We were talking, and then he had to use the restroom. Since I was seated this way,” she nudges her chin toward the door, “I felt . . .”
“Safe.” I lift a brow.Oh, you cheeky chit.“When did he need to use the loo?”
“Just a few minutes ago.”
I nod, eyes sweeping across the room. “Probably received another alert that he had company. I need to look around.”