My neck straightened. “What? You expect me to go down in there?”
“It’s what Mother wants.”
“Oh hell no.”
“It’s not that bad, Em.” His deep, authoritative tone mellowed, sounding more like the brother in my memories. “We’ve all done our time. Now it’s your turn.”
My head shook. He’d been right about the heat. It was suffocating. “I don’t care what you did, Kyle.” I looked around the kitchen, pulling at the collar of my blouse. “Is there water?”
“In the faucet.”
“I was thinking bottled.”
“The water is like the cellar,” he said. “It takes time, but your body gets used to it. Now I have a suite upstairs.” He grinned. “Look at you; you’re sweating like crazy. You’d never be able to sleep up there.”
I didn’t care about his suite. My thirst was growing by the second. “You drink the water?”
“You will too. Once the fever passes, you’ll be better than new. Mother knows what’s best.”
As I tried to generate saliva, I had the sensation of a bad movie,Children of the Cornor something. Finally, I spoke, “I’m worried about Ian and Noah. Do you know what happened to them?”
“I wasn’t there. You’ll have to ask Liam when he returns.”
“Returns?” I asked, looking around and seeing a refrigerator. “If there’s electric, why isn’t there air conditioning?”
“Mother doesn’t like it too cold.”
I recalled Kyle’s comment about Liam. “You said return. Liam doesn’t live here too, does he?”
Kyle nodded. “For now. It’s safest. Greyson was here too” —he paused as a dark shadow covered his expression— “before your husband had him killed.”
According to Rett, Greyson was trying to kill me. Instead of going down that rabbit hole, I said, “What about the refrigerator? Is there something to drink in there?”
Kyle went to a cupboard and reached for a glass. With a huff, he lifted the faucet and filled it with a cloudy liquid.”
He turned, handing it my way.
“I’m not drinking that.”
He smiled and set it on the countertop. “You will.”
I spun around the kitchen that was both old-fashioned and modernized. There were no hard-surface counters or spectacular lighting fixtures. The counters were metal and the lights plain. Yet everything that was mandatory seemed present. “Where are we?” I turned to Kyle. “Tell me what’s happening.”
“Are you asking about the details on the monster you married?”
Closing my eyes, I imagined the man I married. When I did, I didn’t see a monster or a devil. I saw a man who I desperately wanted to contact, not because he’d be upset or worried, but because I didn’t want to be the cause of his distress. I’d tell him I was safe. This place was weird and a bit creepy, yet for some reason, I didn’t feel that I was in danger.
I’d admit that my new biggest worry was for him.
It was more than worry.
I cared.
No matter how hard I’d tried to protect my heart, as I stood in what could rightfully be described as hell’s kitchen, my concern wasn’t for me but for him. I told Rett he couldn’t have my heart, but now with the passing of time, I could admit, if only to myself, that when it came to Everett Ramses, I cared—deeply.
“No,” I replied, “I’m not asking you about Rett. I want to know what the hell is happening here, where we are, and when I will be able to contact Rett.”
“I would tell you, but Mother wants to explain.” Kyle tilted his head toward the cellar. “You should rest. Our mother keeps odd hours. When she calls, you need to come.”