Her Name Is Knight(Nena Knight #1)(12)

Paul stares at him for a long time. It’s a stare so full of malice it makes me quake where I sit. His voice is so low I strain to hear. “You have made an unwise decision, o.”

Papa says, “Then so be it. Leave our village.” His voice is heavy with the burden he carries. “Leave our home.”

Paul looks at him as if he has suffered an affront. “You do not get to kick me out twice in a lifetime, Michael. I go and stay where I please.”

“We would never participate in selling our brothers and sisters!” someone shouts from the crowd.

My father drops his head. “My people have done nothing to you.” The traces of despair threaded in his voice unnerve me. If Papa is worried, then I need to be terrified.

Paul breaks into a gregarious smile that is so disconcerting my stomach drops. He gives Papa a mocking half bow, saying, “They do as you wish, Chief. Then your people have wronged me.”

His smile falls, changing his looks from movie-star handsome to something monstrous. The change is so rapid I involuntarily cry out, wondering how a human can change so quickly, quicker than a chameleon. My sound must be louder than I think, because Paul instantly searches for the root of the noise and finds me. Malevolence emanates from him like a death shroud, and in the second our eyes connect, I know what evil looks like.

Papa believing a man like Paul would take no for an answer was a gross miscalculation—the first mistake I have ever known my father to make. Nothing between them was over.

Not then.

Not now.





9


AFTER


Nena wasn’t sure what she was doing or why. She left the diner and got in her car. She kept telling herself none of it was her business. The Flush’s temper tantrum wasn’t her business. The girl was not her business. She shouldn’t have been out in the city going around to places she had no business being at this time of night.

Nena had nearly convinced herself to get the hell on out of there when the Cadillac with the Royal Flush insignia again caught her eye. It was farther down the street now, closer to the bus stop, hidden in the shadows where the streetlight was out. Nena sighed, knowing her decision was made whether she liked it or not. Cloaked in darkness herself, she slid into her Audi, tossing her rucksack inside.

She searched the back. She had nothing but her backup gun, sans silencer, and her push daggers concealed in her belt. She was weighing her options when the diner’s chimes alerted her someone was leaving. It was the girl. She looked both ways, as if about to cross the street, but seemed to decide against it. She tugged at her backpack straps and began walking in the direction of the bus stop. Maybe she was a runaway, though she didn’t give Nena those kinds of vibes.

The girl was passing a couple of large metal city trash containers when a figure materialized from their shadows. It was the Flush from the diner. He spoke to her, and while he did, one of his colleagues sneaked up behind her. He grabbed her, silencing her scream with his hand. A third man appeared as they dragged the girl into the alley.

Nena waited another moment, thinking of one of those clown cars and wondering how many more Flushes would tumble out. When no more did, she got out of her Audi and followed.

Like idiots who thought they had all the time in the world, the three gang members were standing in the alley debating which was better: robbing the diner as retaliation or just kidnapping the girl and making her one of their bitches. They were so engrossed in their bickering that they didn’t notice Nena as she moved stealthily toward them, keeping to the walls.

One of them threatened to rape the girl. Why was the first thing men resorted to exacting dominance over women through violation or defilement? Why did it always have to be rape? Because, Nena thought mirthlessly, that was all these types of males knew.

The girl said, “If you kill me, I’ll haunt your dumb asses until the day you die. Which probably won’t be very long anyway.”

It was a weird thing to say, at the weirdest time, when anyone else’s fear would render them silent. The girl was a fighter, and Nena liked that immediately. But her high voice betrayed her true feelings. Though she was a fighter, she was a terrified young girl.

“Well, if you’re gonna haunt me, guess I’ll call you Casper,” the Flush from the diner snarled, slapping her hard while the others stood by.

“’Cept I’m not friendly.”

The girl’s bravado was impressive, even in the presence of imminent danger.

They laughed at her.

Nena knew the laugh well. It was the laugh of people when they thought you were nothing, less than nothing. It was a laugh a person would never forget. And it was when Nena announced herself.

“Let the girl go and there won’t be any problems,” she said, stepping to the middle of the alley. “This is Keigel’s turf.”

They gawked at her, likely trying to figure out who the hell she was and where the hell she’d come from without them seeing. They didn’t care about the options she’d given them. They had retribution and lust on their minds. Had they been thinking clearly, they might have chosen better.

“Bitch, fuck you,” the diner Flush said, advancing on her. “Just like a bitch to not mind her damn busine—”

He was close enough. She stabbed him in the throat with one of her daggers, leaving her gun holstered in the back of her belt. As if on cue, the girl bit the hand of the big treelike Flush holding her. He yelped, yanking her, then sent her slamming into the wall. She crumpled to the ground, curled and whimpering in pain.