Chapter 6 - THE FIRST BLOW
The library was empty.
“Naomi?”
No answer.
Then I heard a muffled cry behind a bookcase.
I pulled at the shelf.
Nothing.
Preston entered behind me and shut the door.
“You’re embarrassing yourself.”
“Where is she?”
“Who?”
“Naomi.”
He smiled.
“You people love drama.”
I pressed my panic trigger once.
Silent alert.
Dad would see my location.
Preston stepped closer.
“You think because your father installs cameras, you own this house?”
“No.”
“You think because some bitter employees cried to you, you understand my family?”
“No.”
“What do you understand?”
“That you’re scared.”
His smile disappeared.
I heard movement behind the bookcase again.
Preston grabbed my wrist.
“Let go.”
“You came here looking for a fight.”
“No. I came looking for evidence.”
He squeezed harder.
“And did you find it?”
I looked directly at the camera above the fireplace.
“Yes.”
He followed my eyes.
Then laughed.
“That one doesn’t record.”
Wrong.
Dad had upgraded it three weeks earlier during scheduled maintenance.
Preston twisted my arm.
Pain shot into my shoulder.
I shoved him.
He slammed me into the marble wall.
My lip split.
The library door opened.
Three of his friends stood there.
Nobody stopped him.
One laughed.
“Damn, Preston.”
He released me.
“Get out.”
I pushed past them into the ballroom.
My head rang.
Guests looked.
Then looked away.
That was the moment from the beginning.
The blood.
The phone.
The command.
“Dad. Lock every exit.”
Steel fell.
Panic exploded.
But while everyone stared at me and Preston, a hidden bookcase inside the library slid open.
Security found Naomi unconscious on the floor of a concealed records room.
Beside her sat a metal case.
Inside were passports.
Cash.
Burner phones.
And a list of women.
May you like
Not eleven.
Thirty-two.
