“What?” Phoenix whispers.
So, she’s heard of Crius, then?
Of course, she has. He was the threat her father hung over her head to keep her in line.
“You stand before the son of the notorious pimp, Crius Vanir. If I hadn’t stopped him, I have no doubt a young woman like you would have ended up as a delicacy in one of his many flesh markets.”
Her sharp intake of breath fills me with a surge of frustration.
Clenching my jaw, I grit out, “My name is Segul.”
“I knew I recognized you from somewhere,” Odin says as though I haven’t spoken. “It’s the eyes. Always those eyes.”
Bile rises to the back of my throat. The rebellious part of my psyche who doesn’t care about the impending shoot-out wants to insist that I look nothing like my father.
Odin laces his fingers, leaving just the index ones steepled, and rests them on his chin. In all the times I have pointed guns at men’s heads, only once before have I seen a potential victim act with such self-assurance.
It’s no wonder Odin and Crius are such close associates, although I doubt that Odin still considers him a friend.
“Late last July, Shango and I prevented the mob from decimating the Vanir family by sending its eldest son to Seacroft Prison. You are his brother.”
My finger hovers over the trigger. “You’re wrong.”
“I know Crius Vanir as well as I know my artificial eye. Every one of his illegitimate sons is intelligent, highly educated, and psychologically aloof. You fit the profile.”
The implication that there are other women out there that he imprisoned and impregnated like Mother hits me in the gut.
Flinching, I adjust my aim.
“Put down the gun, Mr. Vanir,” Odin says.
“Tell your men to back their vehicles out of the road and I’ll consider allowing you to live.”
His gaze sharpens.
“How about I give you the benefit of the doubt and suppose that Crius found a way to coerce you into doing his dirty work.”
“How would you know this?” I ask.
“He cultivates sons the way some men hoard weapons. No job is too dangerous or too complex when the life of one’s mother is at stake.” His gaze flicks to the young woman standing over my shoulder. “My question is why you intercepted my son before he reached Crius.”
Adrenaline courses through my veins. In a one to one, I would have already shot Odin. The second man has returned and also aims a gun at my head. I might still have a chance of getting out of this alive if I time my shots, but I can’t take the risk of getting Phoenix hurt.
His gaze switches to her. “Gordon Gofannon’s daughter, I presume?”
“Yes?” she rasps.
“Walk to me.”
Phoenix’s remains still.
His lips tighten. “You should understand that the man in front of you engineered your and my nephew’s abduction for a single purpose.”
Odin unclasps his hands and positions them behind his back, radiating the self-assuredness of a deity.
“What are you talking about?” she murmurs.
“Your father suddenly disappeared, yes?”