Homeless

Chapter 33

"You're up. Good."

Luke looked just as I remembered. His dark hair was longer, though, brushing his eyebrows and darkening his eyes. He grinned. The same lopsided grin that made it seem as if he knew something you didn't.

"I hope you're not too hurt," he said, closing the door behind him and turning on the light. He pocketed the keys and came closer.

I stiffened when he sat on the bed. His hand reached for my face. I pushed back against the headboard, turning my face away without taking my eyes off of him. His hand dropped.

"You've been naughty, Little Blue," he said. "Or is it Daphne now?"

"Where am I?" I asked.

"I told you to get away and stay hidden," he said in a low voice. "Why did you have to make a mess?"

"Where am I?" I asked again.

Luke sighed. "Somewhere you don't want to be."

Someone was coming up the stairs, their steps leisurely. Luke stood up, his ominous words ringing in my ears.

His face lost all humor. He leaned over me, his eyes grim. "Listen, do not tell anyone I helped you escape."

I narrowed my eyes. "Why?"

"Because they'll put a damn bullet between my eyes, that's why," he snapped. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Just don't."

"Help me, then," I said. "Help me and I won't tell anyone."

"If I help you, I might as well shoot myself," he said, glancing over his shoulder at the door when the handle turned. "Just... keep quiet and I'll think about it."

He straightened right as the door swung open. Logan stood in the doorway. His cheekbone sported an ugly purple bruise. He got in and held the door open for another man to enter. This one was dressed in an immaculate maroon suit, his light brown hair coiffed back and his features aristocratic.

I remembered seeing him around the House a few times. What was a client doing here?

"So this is the little trouble maker," the man in the suit said.

Putting his hands in his pockets, he strolled into the room. He was tall and broad-shouldered, and his eyes were an arctic blue without a hint of warmth. The muffled sound of his dress shoes echoed loud and clear in the room, drowning my beating heart.

As he approached the bed, Luke stepped back and stood by the wall, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Yes, Mr. Benne," Logan said, shooting me a triumphant look.

"Mhm." Mr. Benne sat down on the bed next to me. My heart rattled. I kept my eyes on him. I didn't like him. I didn't like him one bit.

He raised his finger to my face. I pulled away. His lips twitched and he dropped his hand.

"How did you escape the House?" he asked in a low voice as if we were friends sharing secrets. A chill went down my spine.

I didn't answer. He sighed, loosened his tie and stood up. Leaning with one knee on the bed, he faced me.

Slap.

My head whipped to the side so hard my neck cracked. I gasped, more out of surprise than anything else. It didn't hurt at first. But as Benne gripped my hair and pulled my head back, my cheek stung and my scalp felt like it was being ripped off. Asshole.

"Answer the question, you little bitch," he said into my ear in a voice dripping with poisoned honey. "How did you escape?"

"Go to hell," I said.