Incendiary (30 page)

She offers me a smile, a
real
smile, the first I’ve ever seen from her.

“Your father and I have been acquainted for a while,” she rambles calmly. “Houston’s elite, you know? We run in the same circles.” She smiles and paces again, then stops in front of me. “Beach houses weren’t far from one another. Your father loved your mother very, very much. I knew Bryn and Alexia. His first wife,” she clarifies as if I’m a dumb motherfucker. “I still see Alexia from time-to-time, you know?”

No, I sure the fuck
don’t
know. “How would I know that?”

“Of course. How would you?”

Her smile is a little sadder. “One never gets over losing a child, and Stefanie was a good girl.”

I steel myself against listening to her comparing her and Cassandra to Alexia and Stefanie.

“I was supposed to be on the boat that day,” she continues casually. “The new neighbor invited to glimpse Rand and Bryn’s perfect life.”

I swallow. “What?”

“Yes, Sloane. But I received a call from Bryn. Your mother,” she clarifies. For herself. I know she was referring to my mother and not my daughter. “Rand wanted time with his two favorite children.” She levels me with an unreadable gaze. “Too bad I didn’t get the message until
after
I returned from the beach.”

“You know?” I whisper. “You fucking know that Dad killed her and—”

She shrugs. “Never tip your hand. Rand is…
not nice
. My husband had several business deals with him—”

“If he’d known you were there, he would’ve stopped.” I’m that sixteen-year-old all over again, helpless to save his sister who was being murdered right in front of his eyes.

“That’s where you’re wrong. Had he seen me, he would’ve killed me and threatened to pin something else on you. Had I told what I know, I wouldn’t be in the position I am at the moment, now would I? Timing, boy. That idiot, Parnell, pulled Rand into the sick games that he played with my daughter.” She bristles and draws herself up. I estimate she’s about five feet, six inches. At the moment, she could be the Incredible Hulk. Not only does she have audacity, she has fucking balls. “I don’t like you, Mr. Mason. You’re a womanizer of the worst sort. I’ve had you investigated, too.”

Too?

“Georgie happens to love you. God knows my genes skipped over Cassandra and went right to my granddaughter.” She gives a dramatic sigh. “If you cheat on her, that’s between you and Georgie. Right now, she’s vulnerable. Someone
is
threatening her life. You have those monsters in your security detail so they can keep her safe even if you can’t.”

“What about what you know? How the fuck is my father keeping this over my head, when...?”

“Because your father’s an idiot, too.”

“My father’s a murderer.”

She gives me a faint smile. “Yes, yes! So he is. I may end up dead and I may not. Sometimes, we let our guard down and aren’t aware of our surroundings. We don’t know who or what is listening” She starts her fucking pacing again. “Have you met Cash?”

I’m not even asking. “No.”

“Parnell’s son from a relationship he was in prior to meeting Cassandra,” she volunteers, well aware I don’t give a fuck. “My step-grandson. He’s in some outlaw motorcycle club. We dislike each other intensely, but when I need something done off the grid, I go to him. This time is no different. He suggested recording devices. I got the impression he’s used it for
that
club. Not that he’ll tell me.”

Pace. Pace. Pace.

She needs to sit the fuck down.

“A few drinks here. A little reminiscing there. Concealed cameras and microphones…do you know what cheap scotch does to Rand?” She smirks. “You should try it one day.”

“Helen—”

“I’ve given you every detail you
need
to know. The recorded conversations are with my attorney. Cash also insisted he bring copies with him. One for the club’s attorney, and one for the club’s officers, should they be needed,” she announces cheerfully. “Should I die…” A sheepish expression crosses her face. “
When
I die, they’ll be released. Something else Cash suggested. Not that I hadn’t considered it.”

“So your death will exonerate me?” And allow me to jump and yell,
bang, bang, the witch is dead?

She laughs. “Don’t get ideas, boy. Who’s to say what I have planned in the event of my
suspicious
death.”

“So I do nothing with this knowledge?”

“Absolutely nothing. Rand is still at the root, a black-hearted bastard. If Georgie ends up with you and you confront him, how safe from him do you think she and your daughter will be?”

She’s right. Dad would kill them, so I nod. I’ve lived with this fucking cloud over my head and my music for ten fucking years. Until I figure out a way to bring Dad down, I can continue with this charade to protect Georgie and our daughter.

She holds out her hand. “Do we have a deal?”

I stare at her age-spotted skin. She has fine lines, but not many wrinkles. Before I shake on it, I remember Georgie’s pitiful words. I should’ve believed her. “I know she didn’t do it.”

Slowly, Helen drops her hand. “File the report? Go to a reporter?”

I nod.

“I checked her phone records and she received a call from
Unknown
, three weeks ago. I wanted to make sure you didn’t try to contact her. My granddaughter has been in her apartment moping because she was alone and pregnant and had just failed every one of her final exams.”

We size each other up and her eyes twinkle. She’s enjoying the fuck out of this. “You did it.” It isn’t even a question. From the satisfaction in her eyes, I already have my answer.

I feel sick and almost hope Helen tells me no.

“What did you expect me to do?” she says instead, then shrugs. “I didn’t send the detective.” Clearing her throat, guilt gleams from her eyes. “I don’t know who did.”

I offer her a thunderous look and she flushes. Suddenly, I’m enjoying our talk, reveling in her discomfort. Wonders never cease.

“Whoever sent the detective, made the call, and then led Georgiana to believe it was Kiln is the same person.”

“Drop the bullshit. You know who did it. Otherwise you wouldn’t have had such easy fucking access.”

Her nostrils flare and her eyes narrow. “Cassandra was determined to get the baby from Georgie one way or the other, Mr. Mason,” she says coolly. “I needed
you
to pluck Georgie from this mess, so it can appear that
I
am doing everything on my daughter’s behalf. I fear what might happen to her if she thinks I disregard her wants.”

I drop the argument about the extent of Helen’s knowledge about the detective. “Cassandra is a grown fucking woman. No one gets everything they want. You had me fucking arrested and pinned it on Georgie. What kind of fucking gamble was that? I hated her for a while.”

“On the surface,” she says dismissively. “But you have no peace without her. You’d want her around you to see why she betrayed you and to exact your revenge.”

Unable to believe Helen’s audacity, I stare at her. Her games are so detailed and so complex, Einstein couldn’t figure her out.

“You two are together now, Mr. Mason. Georgie can’t know until the press conference. I can’t risk Cassandra getting wind of this—”

“No! Absolutely not. There’s someone who wants to hurt her, and after your fucking show in there—”

“My way, Mr. Mason. Mine. Remember?” She glares at me. “Your charges aren’t dropped
yet
.”

I study her neck, estimate how long it’ll take me to wring it. “Her life’s in danger,” I snarl. “Someone is waiting for a chance to get to her.”

“Mr. Mason, the conversation is over. We’re going to walk back into that room. You’ll be sufficiently pissed. I’ll be exceedingly triumphant. Ignore whatever your father throws your way, and marry my granddaughter. You once saved her from herself. Now, you have to save her from
someone
.”

As if I’m not aware of that.
Someone
came after Georgie in a place that should’ve been safe for her. “She’ll be fine. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to propose to Georgie and discuss details for our wedding. Will you hire a wedding planner or help her arrange things yourself?”

My mind whirls with possibilities. Whatever Georgie wants for our day, she’ll get. “My aunt had a stylist visit this morning, and I saw a gorgeous purple dress. I purchased it for Georgie. Maybe, she’ll choose that as her wedding gown. Whatever she decides, I’ll take care of.”

“Mr. Mason, have you been listening or has your hideous music destroyed the little brain cells left over from your drug use? Not that you were working with many to begin with. Rand’s genes.”

“You’re full of fucking jokes.” She’s also trying my patience. “What are you rambling about now?”

“You will not discuss anything with Georgie because I don’t intend to help her with any type of ceremony. How could I explain that to Cassandra?”

“Fuck Cassandra,” I almost snarl. “Georgie deserves a big wedding.”

She snorts. “Attended by whom, boy? The girl doesn’t have any friends.”

“Well, a small fucking wedding with whatever she wants. A gorgeous gown. A huge cake. Whatever.”

“No. I’m not paying for it and she has no money to do so. There’s Rand to consider. Remember him? If he gets wind of the wedding, he may find a way to put a stop to it. Therefore, keep your mouth shut to Georgie until after the press conference. Take her to the court house or
wherever,
an alleyway, and marry her. You two should be grateful I’ve allowed you to be together. If she upstages my daughter, I won’t be—”

“Helen,” I interrupt softly, so fucking angry if I yell the sound will blast her away, “I’ll concede that you’re right about my father, so I’ll keep Georgie in the dark. But Georgie’s getting a decent wedding if I have to do all the planning myself. Not one fucking thing you can say will change that. Either Cassandra deals with it or she doesn’t. Just like Georgie isn’t your main concern, your daughter is even less than that to me.”

Uninterested in Helen’s response, I storm away and go in search of Abby, Maitland, Quint, and Adam. Georgie and I will marry after the press conference. I don’t trust Helen. With so little time, Abby convinces me to bring Zelda and Kiln in on the plans. After all, we have a lot to do and very little time to make Georgie's wedding day all that she’d want it to be and all that I want it to be for her.

My stomach is in turmoil and any minute, I’m going to throw up.

I’m curled around Bryn in the middle of the bed, trying to wrap my head around everything said to me yesterday. I haven’t seen anyone since then. Not even Abby.

Once again, I’m left without anyone familiar. I’m all alone in Sloane’s room. Every two hours, Pres and another bodyguard comes in and does a sweep.

I kiss Bryn’s forehead and stare at her little face, so very in love and attached to her. No way can I give her up for any amount of money. I’m scared, though. Grandma might decide to stop sending me money. She wants me isolated, away from everyone, most especially Mom.

Grandma’s hands are washed of me. I’m the dirty laundry, but now I’ve been taken care of.

I can’t imagine my life without my daughter. I’ve only had the opportunity to hold her in my arms for sixteen days, but to me she’s been with me forever. I recall the first time I heard her heartbeat, felt her move inside of me and discovered she was a girl. Despite how much I want to forget, I recall all the times I was in Sloane’s arms. One of those times, we made Brynn. An accident, yes. I’m sure to Sloane she’s also a mistake.

Which leaves me right where I started, just where I’ve been for years. On my own.

Maybe, I should give Bryn up. I didn’t even know I was supposed to wait to give her a bath. Undoubtedly, one of the nurses told me…? Well, it isn’t surely because I don’t remember any such instructions. My daughter deserves all life has to give. A mom who can offer her more than just her love and protection. She deserves security, something I’m in no position to give. She also deserves happiness and stability. Even if I take Kiln up on his offer and do pornos, I’ll have money for her, but how will she see me as she grows up?

What will I have become?

A whore?

A drug addict?

A dead girl?

I don’t know what’s more selfish. Keeping Bryn with me or giving her up?

The door opens and I stiffen, doubting it’s Sloane. I haven’t seen him once after Kiln carried me away. It might be Abby, but I think she’s gone. By deduction, before I hear the dickhole’s voice, I know who it is.

“Time for the wedding,” Kiln announces. “Sloane’s getting married later today. Did he tell you?”

I throw a death glare over my shoulder. He isn’t going to rile me with his random announcements. “There isn’t a wedding. There’s a press conference in case you’ve forgotten.”

He snickers. “Don’t believe me?”

“That’s a fucking understatement, dickhole.”

He tsks. If he makes one more irritating sound, I might scratch his eyes out.

“Either you get out of that bed or I’m coming in.”

“I’ll punch you,” I hiss.

Before I’ve resumed my curled up position, he flings me onto my back and throws my hands above my head. There’s a story, and everything I need to know is told in his eyes. He wants to fuck me, just to show me who has the superior strength.

“You’re hurting me,” I blow out because he is. “In case you’ve forgotten, asshole, I had a baby two weeks ago, which means I don’t fucking need your two tons atop me.” I buck, but he holds me tighter. “Move!”

“My father wants you downstairs,” he says with a low snarl. “If that isn’t enough to get you the fuck up, then this should.
Sloane
wants you at the wedding.”

“Yes,” I yell, starting to believe Sloane really
is
marrying someone today. “I’m sure. All three of you are sadistic motherfuckers. So hold each other’s hands, grab onto my Mom and Grandma, and
go to fucking hell
.” My screech doesn’t deter him, but it
does
wake up Bryn and infuriate Kiln.

She moves next to me and offers a whine of warning. If I don’t see to her in a nanosecond, she’s going to cry.

“I’ll come to the stupid wedding,” I capitulate on a bitter sob. “Just let me up, so I can see to Bryn.”

Her whine is quickly evolving. I bite Kiln’s chin. He jerks, but instead of releasing me, he kisses me. I know what he wants—my engagement in what he’s doing. I’ve learned to give in.

Crowell began my education. Sloane fine-tuned it. He never forced me to have sex, but if he told me to do something, I either got it done or faced his fury.

Now, I open my mouth for Kiln while Bryn screams beside me. Kiln grunts, and his dick presses against me. Though his pants are on, I’m still disgusted.

It isn’t that Kiln isn’t handsome. Or that he doesn’t know how to kiss. It’s just that he acts as if he’s the enemy. I could almost understand if he saw
me
as the bad guy. I’d say he was doing this to drive me away or scare me or…or…
whatever
.

He slides to the other side of me, grabs my nightgown and rips it down the middle. Embarrassment courses through me and I close my eyes. Though he’s seen me completely naked and I have on panties, things are different now.

The cold air beads my nipples. Kiln bends his head and takes one into his mouth, deepening my humiliation because he’s tasting Bryn’s milk. Squeezing my eyes shut, I pretend he’s Sloane. Count to twenty. Nothing helps. I can’t allow him to continue.

“If you don’t let me nurse Bryn, I’m going to scream,” I warn, my breaths shallow pants. Kiln terrifies me. I’ve never quite realized how much until this moment.

A finger swipes a tear away. “Scream, Georgiana,” he taunts hoarsely. “Who gives enough of a fuck to come to your rescue? Prince Sloane? Coming to rescue the fair Princesses Georgiana and Bryn? Give me
something
as an incentive to do as you ask. What do you have to lose? Not Sloane. You’ve already lost him. He’s getting married today.”

I hate him. I hate him. I hate him.

“Get up,” I order, glaring at him despite my tears. “If you move, I’ll suck your dick when I settle Bryn down again.”

If I did it for drugs, I can do it to get Kiln away from me. Besides, he’s right. I’ve lost Sloane.

He smirks but moves off the bed. I pray Bryn won’t be easily calmed. That way, Kiln will have to leave and I won’t have time to blow him.

Of course, when has anything gone right in my life? She’s asleep again within ten minutes and the big meathead has been in here that entire time, giving me his creepy fucking stares.

When her little lids slide close and she nods off, I don’t move. My heart is pounding in my chest. Pleading with Kiln to change his mind won’t work. He’s been after me to stick his cock in my mouth for months. If I do this to him now, he’ll find a reason to make me do it again later.

I think of a bargaining chip, but I can only offer him honesty. Our gazes collide. His is smug. I wish I knew how my eyes appear? Frantic, maybe? A little sick and very disillusioned.

“I love Sloane. Don’t make me do this with you.”

His eyes narrow. “I’m not
making
you do any fucking thing. These were your terms. Remember?”

Yes, because I’m an idiot. “I-I want to renegotiate—”

There’s a knock on the door. Overwhelming relief makes me sag. I pull the torn halves of my nightgown together. Kiln’s pissed, but there’s nothing he can do.

When Maitland, Adam, and Quint saunter in, my alarm returns.

They’re looking at me, but I can’t hold their gazes.

“What are you three doing in here?” Kiln growls.

I lick my lips, afraid to hear the answer.

“We came to talk to Georgie,” Maitland snaps, unintimidated. “What the fuck are
you
doing in here?”

There’s a malicious gleam in Kiln’s eyes. “Relaying the order that she has to attend the big wedding.” He shrugs. “And sucking her tit.”

Wrapping my arms around my waist, I rock back and forth in an attempt to comfort myself.

“Get the fuck out of here, motherfucker,” Quint orders in a brutally cold voice, his fists flexing.

Adam regards Kiln. “You want Sloane to fucking kill you?”

The smirk on Kiln’s face? He’s either going to die with it etched into his features or lightning is going to strike one day and burn it onto his ugly mug.

Maitland goes to Kiln and whispers something to him. Thank you, God, the words returns Kiln’s anger. Not that that makes me happy. I’m just glad the arrogance is gone.

It also doesn’t make me happy that I can’t hear what Maitland is telling Kiln. He stomps toward the closet, where all the purchases Abby got for me are stored, before reappearing and tossing the items in my face.             

“Get dressed,” he demands. “You have five fucking minutes. Else, I’m coming in and doing it myself.”

The tension is brutal, so I pull the covers over my lower body, remove the torn clothes and put on the fresh nightgown.

The men are embroiled in a stare down. They don’t notice my bare tits. But I prefer to take my chances and change my clothes here than maneuver through four men to the bathroom. One of whose intentions toward me are mean and nasty. The other three I have no clue.

I could scramble away from them, run to the glass window and throw myself through it.

I’m trying to hold on and be strong. Bryn needs me, but my smidgeon of hope is disintegrating into nothingness.

Dear Grandma, you were right. Bryn deserves better than me. I want her to live a long and happy life. She’ll never know me, but I’ll always love her even when I’m gone. And I’m leaving. I’m giving all of you what you want. A Georgie-free life. Even if you all never loved me, I love you. Georgie

My imagined suicide note is short and sweet, the words in my head just waiting to be written on paper.

“Get Bryn dressed,” Kiln says in an even
meaner
voice, and considering the depth of dickhead’s evilness before that says a lot.

My nostrils flare. “She’s dressed, fucker.”

Quint shakes his head and gives me a half smile.

He starts for me and I back away, so he diverts his advance and heads to Bryn.

“It’s okay,” Maitland says in a soothing voice. “He’s just carrying her for you downstairs.”

He’s also awakened her again.

“Hold her head!” I spit out, placing my own hand behind my daughter’s head. “She can’t support her neck yet.”

Kiln elbows my arm away, replacing my hand with his. “You’re a little cock sucking, coke whore, Georgiana. Do
not
fucking give me orders like you fucking matter.”

I gasp, but someone touches me and I flinch, recoiling. My life is chaos. Do I want my daughter to live with me like this?

If I give her up, I’m guaranteeing my death. She’s it, all I have. Without her, I’m not sticking around this world to see whose dick I have to suck next.

Maitland’s blond hair is styled different, shaved at the sides, long on the top, where he has his man bun.

“We just wanted to tell you that there're no hard feelings. We don’t believe you had anything to do with what happened to Sloane. He’s made his decision and we agree with what he’s doing. We’re standing behind him.”

When I poke my lower lip out, it trembles. He’s being nice to me.

Anger replaces Kiln’s usual smirk and he gives a bitter laugh. “You don’t have to be nice to her just because Sloane’s a fucking dick-guided asshole with a thing for little sluts. No matter what happens today, all you’ll ever be is a brainless whore.”