Hundreds (Dollar Book 3) Page 7

  It was a stupid idea.

  Stupid or not, he tried to be generous and kind and asked you to do something in return.

  I’d wasted enough time.

  My footsteps fell with deeper purpose as I skirted the main hub of workmen and inspected tables with scrapers and drills and hammers. There were many things I could take, but nothing was small enough to scurry away.

  And besides…if I steal a tool, isn’t that stealing from Elder?

  He was the boss here. He would’ve financed the equipment and supplies. It didn’t make sense to steal something he already owned.

  Was it a trick? Had he already come to that conclusion and wanted to see what I would do?

  You’re over-thinking this.

  I agreed with that logic but only because I didn’t want to steal. I didn’t like the thought of taking something without permission, to covet what wasn’t mine because that was exactly what happened to me.

  So where does that leave you?

  God, if I knew.

  Doomed if I did and doomed if I didn’t. Either way, I owed him, and I had to do what he said.

  I spun in place, trying to spot something quickly to get it over with.

  The large clock hanging above the office showed I’d dallied for ninety minutes and still didn’t have a trinket to give Elder.

  Doesn’t matter. He said I had two hours—

  The door where Elder had vanished into suddenly swung open, revealing a long table and people gathering up papers before standing. Elder stomped forward, stepping into the warehouse, surveying his empire.

  The meeting had finished early.

  I’d run out of time.

  His intelligent gaze tracked over his staff, searching, searching…

  He found me.

  I froze as he pinned me in place with just a stare, his chin aloof and kingly.

  I sucked in a breath, but it lodged in my throat.

  He didn’t look any different–still dressed in a dark grey t-shirt and expensive faded denim jeans from before. It didn’t matter he wasn’t wearing a suit and tie. It didn’t matter he was just a man. He had a certain sorcery about him that put him above the rest. No one else could come across so brutish but fair, so merciless but forgiving. He was strict with me but stricter with himself. And it wasn’t his wardrobe that conjured those traits. It was him. His entire mentality and carriage.

  He smiled with smugness and a tinge of relief as if he’d suspected I’d stay but was still surprised to see me.

  Had this been yet another test? Leaving me on my own? Waiting to see if I fled or remained? It hadn’t even occurred to me to walk out the warehouse and vanish.

  Perhaps it should have.

  Maybe I should’ve focused more on finding a telephone and calling the police than I had on finding something to steal?

  What’s become of my priorities?

  But then again, what would I tell the police?

  That I currently lived with the man, who only two days ago, forced himself on me? That that same man helped sew my tongue back together and kill the master who’d abused me?

  I’d be thrown in an asylum and Elder into a cell.

  People would say I was screwed up. That my fragility had given way to irrationality. Elder would be tried for kidnapping and rape while I fruitlessly explained it was neither.

  No. I couldn’t leave yet, and he couldn’t be taken from me.

  Not yet.

  My heart nudged in warning as Elder placed one black shoe in front of the other, coming to claim me.

  I didn’t know what he’d planned next or where we were going, but I did know I needed to complete his task—not for him but for me. I needed to prove I could do this on my own. I didn’t need him near me all the time. I was strong enough to do what he requested.

  Darting toward a nearby work-station and the multiple tools scattered on the table, I lost sight of Elder as I scurried around the back of the partially built yacht.

  A name whispered on my mind for the elegant sea craft. Something that could fly. Something that was strong enough to endure tidal waves and rain needles.

  Don’t you dare.

  You are not the owner, and you have no right to name it.

  I kept my eyes focused on bric-a-brac and workers as I weaved around bodies and skilled hands. And there, on a trestle table with wood shavings and discarded nails, hid a small silver frame with oval photos and little claw legs keeping the images of a pretty woman and a young girl in a purple pinafore upright.

  A family.

  Someone’s family.

  I paused, running my finger over the dusty, smiling faces. I didn’t know where the husband was or which worker returned home to this wife and daughter.

  I wanted to know. I wanted to find out the names of his family.

  But another part of me didn’t want to let Elder down. This token was small enough to fit in my palm and light enough to be carried with no effort.

  It’s not yours…

  It almost stopped me.

  Almost.

  Scooping up the photo frame, I froze. The epic disgrace at touching something that didn’t belong to me filled me with remorse. I waited for a hand on my shoulder or growled command to put it down.

  I almost wanted them to, so I wouldn’t have to go through with this.

  But neither of those things happened.

  The sanding continued. The gossip remained.

  And guilt swarmed me as I hid the silver within my hands and slinked away to steal something that monetarily had barely any worth but for one man was incalculable.

  After ten steps, I couldn’t breathe through my regret. How could I take something like that? What possessed me to steal something that meant so much to someone?

  I turned to replace it.

  Screw Elder’s command.

  Only, he materialized from the side of the yacht, holding his hand out as if he’d witnessed my theft and wouldn’t let me deny it.

  With heavy contrition forming a lump in my throat, I stepped toward him and handed over the photo frame.

  Our fingers touched.

  Hot to cold.

  Man to woman.

  I hung my head as Elder peered at the family. Once upon a time, I’d been stolen just like I’d stolen this photo frame. I’d been taken callously with no thought to how my mother would cope with my disappearance or any apology.

  Now I’d done the same.

  I refuse to be like them. To be like Elder as he smiled and nodded in approval.

  “Wait!” Snatching it back, I hugged the pictures close. “I-I changed my mind. I’m not stealing this.”

  His head cocked, his actions slow and refined. “You already did. It’s not yours, yet you’ve taken it. It belongs to you now.”

  I back stepped, trying to remember what workstation I’d taken it from. “No. It’s worth too much.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Worth too much? I doubt it would fetch a few dollars on the street. Hollow silver is worth nothing, and no one wants pictures of another’s loved ones.”

  My mouth hung open. “You’re thinking of selling it to make money?”

  “Isn’t that why anyone steals?” He shrugged, defiant and indifferent. “Either to benefit themselves or trade for cash?”

  “It’s wrong.” I shuddered. “No one should profit off another.”

  I struggled to keep the conversation on the stolen photo frame and not my own plight.

  “Wrong or right, it’s happened.” Elder held out his hand. “Give it to me. It’s mine.”

  “No, you can’t have it.” I placed it behind my back.

  “Too late.” Elder stalked toward me and plucked it from my fist as if I hadn’t been holding it at all. “You chose it. You have to live with the guilt. No one told me that when I started stealing, Pim.” He bent closer, his face ardent but vicious. “The guilt eats you alive. The shame of taking what doesn’t belong to you is never worth the cost.” He chuckled, but it echoed with wounded despa
ir. “Believe me.”

  And I did.

  I believed that his previous pickpocketing had left him empty and remorseful rather than fulfilled and rich. He might have endless wealth now but at what cost? What soul debt?

  I shivered unhappily as he tucked the photo frame into his back jeans’ pocket and wrapped his arm around my waist. “Come. There’s somewhere else I’d like to visit today.”

  I didn’t ask where or why or what we would do once we got there. All I could focus on was the photo frame in his pocket and the minor epiphany that’d followed on the heels of Elder’s confession.

  He might’ve been a thief, but he’d paid for each thing he’d taken. He’d shown himself to be human rather than monster because even though he’d kept what wasn’t his, he’d never been able to let go of his wrong-doing.

  Unlike those who’d stole and sold me. They’d laughed. They’d congratulated. Not one had said they were sorry.

  And because of that, I forgave Elder for carving out a piece of me. For forcing me to take that man’s property.

  I accepted my misdeed, hugged my sin, and accepted that, for better or for worse, I was now a thief.

  Chapter Eleven

  ______________________________

  Elder

  PIM CLIMBED INTO the back of the black sedan as I held open the door.

  Her actions were sad and full of heavy, heavy remorse. She didn’t smile in thanks or glance at me in that intoxicating blend of suspicion and eagerness.

  She was muted.

  I knew the feeling.

  Shit, I’d lived with such agony ever since my life turned from rags to riches.

  I’d tried to pay my debt. I’d done my utmost to equalize the unbalanced karma I’d caused, so I didn’t have to carry such colossal mistakes.

  But I hadn’t succeeded, and with every dollar I spent, I had the awful knowledge that without that one theft none of my current empire would exist. And if this never existed for me, then imagine what the other guy would feel if he knew I’d stripped him of a future where he’d never had to worry about finances again. Where he could retire and support his loved ones through thick and thin.

  I’d taken his good fortune and made it my own because I was selfish and mean.

  I would never forgive myself.

  Pim had stolen two sun-bleached photos and a five dollar hollow silver frame.

  I’d stolen millions upon millions.

  In terms of value crimes, she’d done nothing.

  It didn’t change the individual value of such things, though.

  Robbery was robbery.

  I’d turned her into a thief even though I no longer stole.

  It wasn’t fair, and I wasn’t that man anymore.

  Selix brushed past me to enter the driver’s side. I stopped him with a quick catch to his shoulder. His black eyes met mine, an eyebrow raised. Cocking my head as I closed the door on Pim, I guided him a few feet away and covertly pressed the photo frame into his hand. “Take that to Charlton. Make sure he finds the rightful owner.”

  Selix nodded with no questions, no accusations. Just like he hadn’t accused or questioned the night I’d committed the biggest felony of my life. “Consider it done.”

  I slapped him on the back and waited until he’d jogged back to the warehouse to fix the wrong Pim had done at my bequest.

  Climbing into the sedan, I glanced at Pim. She rested her chin in her palm, staring forlornly out the window. How pure she must be to riddle herself with worry over taking something that didn’t belong to her. How innocent to worry about another after everything she’d endured.

  How selfless.

  I’d planned on letting her keep her guilt—make her feel a tenth of what I did—but the tugging on my fucking heart couldn’t bear to see her in pain.

  Keeping my eyes on Selix as he returned from his task and slipped into the driver’s seat, I leaned closer to Pimlico. “It’s back with its rightful owner.”

  Her eyes whipped to mine. “What did you say?”

  My hand ached to cup her face, to touch her. “Nothing was stolen. Forgive yourself.”

  “You gave it back?”

  I nodded.

  Her huge sigh of relief managed to heal a little of my guilt as Selix put the car into gear.

  “But why?” She shook her head quickly. “I mean I’m glad you gave it back…but I don’t understand.”

  Reclining into the leather seat, I closed my eyes. “Because it was the right thing to do.”

  For an endless second, she stayed stiff beside me, but then she inched closer and placed her hand over mine. “Thank you.”

  Her touch was barely there, hovering rather than claiming, but it set fire to every part of me that’d long since been dark and alone.

  I sucked in a breath, keeping my eyes closed so I didn’t trip further into complications where she was concerned. A headache formed from battling the tendencies I constantly lived with, and all I wanted to do was return to the Phantom and forget. But I needed to visit somewhere else before I said goodbye to land.

  Pim removed her touch.

  I crossed my arms.

  And Selix drove us to the one place where all my secrets were hidden.

  If one only knew where to look.

  Chapter Twelve

  ______________________________

  Pim

  ELDER’S LESSONS NEVER stopped coming.

  First, showing me I’d stayed with him of my own free will.

  Second, revealing I had just enough impurity to take what wasn’t mine.

  Third, tutoring me that I could like and loath him all while suffering every other emotion known to mankind.

  Fourth, teaching me that he didn’t just have a heart—he had an entire galaxy inside him with hidden planets and solar systems and hopes and dreams and regrets. Things I’d never be privileged enough to understand unless I somehow made myself worthy.

  Fifth, and the biggest of all, hinting at a past he hadn’t shaken by taking me to a place I never thought existed.

  Standing beside him in the Monaco sunshine, I made a pact with myself. I wanted to know everything there was to know about Elder Prest. The secretive snippets and tiny temptations of his past consumed my own until I didn’t care about me but him.

  Next time he asked something of me, I would do it without question. He told me to swim? I’d ask how far? He ordered me to steal? I’d ask how much? I would do that. I would live with any guilt and put up with any regret because right here, right now, he’d proven something priceless was inside him that I desperately wanted to pillage.

  What is this place?

  This wonderful, wondrous place?

  I hung back as we stood upon a quaint sandstone path while the prettiest house I’d ever seen beckoned us closer. I didn’t know why the building affected me so. It wasn’t like I’d never seen a house before.

  But this one was different.

  Draped in midday sun, it looked alive. Emotion basked from its elegant white-framed windows. An invitation issued from its mandarin-painted front door. It was the perfect blend of East and West, masculine and feminine, holiday and home.

  “What is this place?” My voice barely registered over the warm breeze coming up the cliff. The city glittered in the distance while we stood on a hilltop with a cove below and sandy beaches finishing the postcard perfect vista.

  Elder’s hair gleamed blue-black, looking wet as oil and just as deadly. His t-shirt encased his muscular chest while his dark almond eyes shuttered whatever things he felt when staring at the abode before us.

  “It’s mine.”

  “Yours?”

  He swept a hand through his hair, taming the wind-swept locks. “The only property I have on land.”

  I thought of the Phantom and how idyllic the floating home was. How Elder was born to be on the ocean. How the thought of him living in this place fit so brilliantly and at the same time didn’t fit at all.

  Before I could ask more questions,
he strode forward. His loafers quiet on the sandstone tiles, the manicured rose bushes cheery and colourful with reds and pinks and yellows—a petal salute to their long-lost landlord.

  He glanced over his shoulder. “Come.” He strode off without waiting, as if the pull of the dwelling worked just as potently on him as it did on me.

  I followed, not because he’d told me to but because I couldn’t imagine not entering that house. The cupboards beckoned me to open and hunt down any personal artifacts of the man who’d rescued me. Kitchen drawers and bedside tables—all of it pulled at my curiosity until I hummed with the need to be nosy.

  Reaching the bright orange front door, Elder pulled a single key from his pocket. Hanging from it was a Japanese character I recognised from school—the calligraphy for ‘long life’.

  Did he wish long life for this house or for him? Or for the person in his thoughts right now—a family or loved one he would never see again?

  Jealousy swelled then popped as I stabbed it with a pin of rationality. Today had been a learning curve of emotions with guilt and regret and now jealousy. Why was I jealous of Elder’s past? Why did I study his body language hoping his fingers would tell me or his shoulders would slip in his tale? How could I begrudge a previous lover or friend when he looked so alone as he inserted the key and unlocked the festive front door?

  If someone had told me to imagine Elder’s house, I would never have pictured this. It was the exact opposite of the Phantom. The Phantom was sleek and refined with cool off-whites and rose-gold accents. This home was warm with creamy exterior, yellow sashes, and the odd flair of bronze.

  The door swung open as if someone passed over its threshold daily rather than however long since Elder last visited. The house didn’t just yawn wide for us to pass, it practically inhaled with hope for guests.

  Moving forward, Elder breathed deeply.

  I copied, dragging the scent of honeysuckle and sun-warmed berries into my lungs. Instantly, I relaxed as if this was my place, and I was finally where I belonged. As if I’d always been searching for this oasis. Where my troubles remained on the cliff’s edge outside, and nothing and no one could find me.