The Fearless King (The Kings #2)(43)

“That’s a better idea.” His smile died. “We won’t let him win, Jo. I know it feels like Anderson and I aren’t doing anything while he zeroes in on you, but we are.”

That’s what she was afraid of. When they were children, she and Anderson had intentionally drawn their father’s wrath to keep him away from their younger siblings, to shield them from having to grow up making the choices—the sacrifices—required to keep each other safe. At eight, Bellamy already knew his role in their fucked-up little family. Protect Eliza. She was too young to handle anything Elliott could level at her, and too young to have the control necessary to escape the worst of his wrath.

One look at his face was all she needed to recognize that Bellamy wouldn’t be standing in the background this time. “You let me and Anderson handle it, okay?” Her phone buzzed and she cursed. “Damn it, it’s Mother.”

“Are you going to answer?”

“No.” She sent the call the voice mail. Journey didn’t have anything to tell her that wouldn’t send her mother into a murderous rage. After they had taken care of their father, she would let their mother in on just what the bastard had planned, and how they’d managed to circumvent him.

To do anything else was to invite ruin.

She walked toward the elevator and cursed when her phone buzzed again. I swear to God, Mother…Journey froze at the unknown number. Better to let it go to voice mail, but…“Hello?”

Her father’s voice slithered through the line. “Quite a long lunch you took today.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “I had a meeting.”

“Lies don’t become you, sweetheart. I had hoped your mother would raise you better than to shirk work for a man, but then you’ve always had a habit of letting me down, haven’t you?”

She flinched. If she concentrated, she could hear the sound of the belt slapping his palm as he crossed the room toward where she cowered, his expression remorseful. You’ve let me down again, sweetheart.

Then the rest of his words penetrated. He knew where she’d been—who she’d been with—and intentionally used the familiar threat…“You leave Frank the hell alone, Elliott. He has nothing to do with this.”

“He made his choice when he stepped into a situation that was none of his business.” He laughed softly. “Almost quitting time. I wonder if that low-rent boyfriend of yours managed to make it back to the office without a problem. He doesn’t exactly work in the safest part of town.”

Even after all these years, she could read between the lines. He wouldn’t bring up Frank without a very specific reason. Frank’s smart and capable and he would never let my father get the drop on him. Except he’s focusing on protecting me, not on watching his own back.

No, you’re being paranoid. He’s just grandstanding to throw you off. Frank isn’t in any danger.

Is he?

She cleared her throat and put as much cool confidence into her tone as she could. “Is there a point to this conversation, Elliott? Or did you just call to make vague threats?”

“I would never threaten, sweetheart. Words only work when there’s action to back them up.”

How many times had she heard him say that exact thing?

Too many. As much as Elliott liked to threaten and manipulate, he loved using his fists even more. Or a belt. Or whatever lay close at hand, the more creative the better.

Journey’s stomach clenched, and she forced herself to punch the button to call the elevator, to step inside the open doors, to take it down to the lobby. Every instinct screamed at her to run to her office, to throw the lock, to curl up on her couch with the lights off until the shaking passed and she felt moderately in control again.

She didn’t have the luxury of breaking down now. Not if her father was threatening what she thought he was threatening. “If you do anything to him, I will—”

“You’ll do what you’ve always done, sweetheart,” he cut in. “You’ll curl up and take it, because you are weak and that’s what the weak do.”

“I am not fucking weak.” The words felt like a lie on her tongue, but her fear for Frank kept her moving. Journey hurried out of the elevator and into the lobby, half expecting that this was all some elaborate game and that she was the intended victim. But no, there was no one around except the two men Frank had assigned to watch over her.

Does Frank have a security detail for himself?

Damn it, you know he didn’t assign one.

“I’d appreciate you not taking that tone with your father.” He sounded as pleasant as if sitting down for afternoon tea. “A man like Frank is beneath you, sweetheart. He can dress himself up in all the three-piece suits he wants, but it doesn’t change who he is. Trash. He might have convinced the rest of Houston into thinking he’s something to be feared, but trash always gets taken out eventually. He will, too.”

“You’re bluffing.” He had to be bluffing.

“You know better.” He hummed a little under his breath.

Her throat spasmed. “If you did something to him—”

“I have no idea what you’re going on about, sweetheart. I was merely calling to point out that if you’re going to be predictable and insist on meeting your…boyfriend…at a hotel in the middle of the day, someone will take notice. And that someone might not be as kind and loving as I am. They may very well snatch one or both of you off the street. If that were to happen…I can’t stand the thought of what would happen then.”