Her Name Is Knight(Nena Knight #1)(96)

“If I can get past what happened at N’nkakuwe—” Oliver reasoned, looking at her.

“I sold her,” Paul spat. “I didn’t sell you. That should tell you something.”

She caught the flicker of satisfaction crossing Oliver’s expression. It was like a slap in her face. She didn’t want to believe Oliver was Ofori. No brother of hers would align himself with a man like Paul. Not after watching his brothers slain. And yet . . .

Her eyes narrowed as she looked, really looked, at the man Paul claimed was her brother. As she looked, it was as if his features began to take on those of her parents. She could see it now as she couldn’t before when he’d sat across from her at Elin’s table the night of the dinner party. His lips were her mother’s lips, the heart-shaped ones that used to kiss her tenderly as their mother laid her down to sleep with her Olay scent wafting around her. His nose was her father’s nose, with the structure of his cheekbones.

“It’s not possible,” she whispered, not wanting to believe.

Another step down the staircase. Now, Oliver—Ofori—stalked her like a lion with its prey. She had never dared dream anyone else had survived. She’d watched her village burn. Heard the shots she thought had taken his life. Now her brother was here, walking toward her. Her brother, alive this entire time. Her instincts screamed danger, but her heart wanted nothing but to take him in her arms.

Paul shook Georgia by her head, forcing a cry from her. “Stop your squirming, girl.” He paused, regaining his composure. “Maybe my son has a point. Now that you two know each other, maybe you can be of value to me.”

Ofori’s hands tightened into fists, and he took another step down. He had one more step to go.

Nena spat, “You will never be our father.” How could he believe she’d ever agree to work with him?

“No.” Paul smiled mischievously. “I think you’ve had enough fathers, don’t you? Think of the possibilities with you by my side. As my equal.”

Ofori’s head snapped toward the top of the stairs. “Father!”

Hurt flushed Ofori’s face. She saw in him the son who thought he was never good enough for anyone, not their father, Michael, not even Paul. What a life he must have lived, always trying to be the everything son for a man who cared nothing for him.

She held out a hand to stop him. “Release the girl. She’s got nothing to do with this. Nothing’s gained from hurting her except to bring the American authorities on your head.”

Paul snorted. “And yet you care for the girl and her father.” An observation rather than a question. “Look how far you’ve come to retrieve her. You could have walked away. I tire of this.”

He yanked Georgia slightly, making her yelp. Nena tensed, ready to fly up the stairs. “Put your sister in the holding room and watch her closely until I am ready.” Paul turned on his heel, pushing Georgia in front of him as she fought to break free from his grasp.

Nena could hear Georgia fighting with him all the way down the hall as Ofori slowly approached her with deadened eyes, his hands flexing. She didn’t want to fight. Surely she could reason with him. They were family. They had survived.

“Where is he taking her?”

He didn’t answer.

“You could join us,” she offered.

“Why would I want to?” He grabbed her upper arm.

“You married Elin. You’re already family.”

“I’ll never be family like you. A son-in-law? Her parents only tolerated me for business’s sake.”

She couldn’t object. He spoke the truth.

He pushed her toward the library. “My father gave me a chance. He chose me over you.”

“Paul killed our father, Ofori.”

She’d struck a chord, its vibration strumming through him until it finally snapped. Her brother looked at her with utter disdain. “That name is dead to me. Same as you are.”





74


AFTER


Ofori shoved Nena hard, causing her to stumble. She caught herself and turned to face him.

“Paul killed our brothers. Razed our village to the ground. He beheaded Papa.”

She searched his eyes for recognition. She thought for a moment she had broken through when he stopped, becoming serene and unreadable.

Ofori was looking down at the portion of the floor covered in oriental carpeting. He looked back at the space Paul had just vacated at the top of the stairs.

After a moment, he looked away. “I don’t give a fuck what he did to Papa or the lot of you.” When he fixed his eyes back on Nena, she saw nothing but a black hate-filled void.

Same old selfish Ofori. Anger loosened her tongue. “Paul betrayed Papa, who he called brother. Imagine what he’ll do to you when he betrays you,” she said. “Because it’s me he’s always wanted. You were merely his consolation prize.”

His face twisted into a rage, and he roared for her to shut up. He kept repeating those words—“Shut up”—spittle flying from his mouth. It was as if all the pain of his years fighting for acceptance, his feelings of inadequacy, real or imagined, culminated in this one moment. The trapped sound he made was like that of a wounded animal. Reflexively, Nena increased the space between them.

He squeezed his eyes shut, lips forming a rigid line. He stilled, a stillness that was almost preternatural. She hadn’t meant to anger him. She had only wanted to shock him into sensibility, but when he opened his eyes, Nena knew his decision.