why this must happen. She has suffered enough. Now, only death or Priscilla will provide her the comfort I cannot.”
Lewis fought to control his expression. Isaac’s barb made him seethe. The treatment of women in the order had long been a point of contention between them, but this was neither the time nor place for another discussion on the subject. He forced a smile.
“Isaac, will you be able to see Harry before the meeting?”
“Of course. And he will do what is necessary. Unfortunately, love is the easiest emotion to manipulate.”
“Good. I ’ll coordinate the purge. Bowen, I want to be ready as soon as we have the go ahead from the others.”
“No problem,” Bowen promised. He took a final swallow from his drink and tapped Isaac on the shoulder. “We ’d better get going before it gets too late.” They stood and moved to the door.
“Thank you both for taking the time. We ’ll have more to celebrate soon. And when we do, Isaac, I’ll break out the really good stuff. It makes the whiskey we had tonight taste like swill!” Lewis clapped Isaac on the back and laughed. Isaac showed his yellow teeth briefly before stepping away from the one man in the NSO he truly despised.
When Bowen ’s car was out of sight, Lewis returned to the living room, ruminating on Isaac’s remarks. From his perspective, Vanessa Kovalic could never suffer enough for the humiliation she had caused him. He would have his men search for her when he instigated the purge. If alive, they would find her and he would finally be able to levy the punishment she so richly deserved.
When she had come to work for him, he had been delighted. Lush, exotic, and full of the pride so unbecoming to women, she had been difficult to train. He had savored the lessons, sure of his inevitable domination, but the bitch never broke completely. Instead, her screams and cries faded first to silence and then to something worse.
One morning, she had lain on the polished, wooden floor of his sleek bedroom and laughed at him. No matter how many times he had hit her, she did not quit. The audacity of her mirth had finally rendered him impotent. Her eyes gleamed in triumph as she pointed out his failed thrusting. He had only managed to control his hatred out of necessity. Had it not been for Harry and Isaac, he would have killed her then.
Lewis picked up his whiskey, drained it, and hurled the empty glass across the room. It shattered against the marble fireplace. His mouth curled into a tight snarl. Seizing the bottle off the bar, he went in search of Lucy. He found her in the den, curled up in front of the TV, where she watched an old movie on DVD, a half empty glass of water and a wadded up tissue on the table next to her. He sidled closer. The sight of her small, bare feet further enraged him. Grabbing a handful of her hair, he dragged her off the couch and across the floor. Her screams enhanced an already powerful arousal.
In the bedroom at the top of the stairs, he threw her against a wall and snatched a pair of handcuffs from an assortment on the bureau. “Grab the ring, Lucy,” he growled. Turning to face him, she stumbled, her blue eyes wild and her powdered face streaked with tears. “Grab it,” he commanded again. This time she reached for the ring suspended from the ceiling. He cuffed her wrists to the heavy, metal loop and ripped the shimmering, lilac dress off her body. Then he instructed her to turn around.
CHAPTER 17
After Bowen’s car was out of sight, Isaac slipped into the alley behind his modest Brownstone, turned right, and followed the narrow path between buildings until he arrived at the abandoned bakery. He reached inside a broken window and pulled a string to unlock the heavy door.
Pushing it open, he eased into the black interior and made his way from memory to the staircase. The climb was laborious and his heart pounded with every step. At the fifth floor landing, he bent over the railing, heaving.
Lewis fought to control his expression. Isaac’s barb made him seethe. The treatment of women in the order had long been a point of contention between them, but this was neither the time nor place for another discussion on the subject. He forced a smile.
“Isaac, will you be able to see Harry before the meeting?”
“Of course. And he will do what is necessary. Unfortunately, love is the easiest emotion to manipulate.”
“Good. I ’ll coordinate the purge. Bowen, I want to be ready as soon as we have the go ahead from the others.”
“No problem,” Bowen promised. He took a final swallow from his drink and tapped Isaac on the shoulder. “We ’d better get going before it gets too late.” They stood and moved to the door.
“Thank you both for taking the time. We ’ll have more to celebrate soon. And when we do, Isaac, I’ll break out the really good stuff. It makes the whiskey we had tonight taste like swill!” Lewis clapped Isaac on the back and laughed. Isaac showed his yellow teeth briefly before stepping away from the one man in the NSO he truly despised.
When Bowen ’s car was out of sight, Lewis returned to the living room, ruminating on Isaac’s remarks. From his perspective, Vanessa Kovalic could never suffer enough for the humiliation she had caused him. He would have his men search for her when he instigated the purge. If alive, they would find her and he would finally be able to levy the punishment she so richly deserved.
When she had come to work for him, he had been delighted. Lush, exotic, and full of the pride so unbecoming to women, she had been difficult to train. He had savored the lessons, sure of his inevitable domination, but the bitch never broke completely. Instead, her screams and cries faded first to silence and then to something worse.
One morning, she had lain on the polished, wooden floor of his sleek bedroom and laughed at him. No matter how many times he had hit her, she did not quit. The audacity of her mirth had finally rendered him impotent. Her eyes gleamed in triumph as she pointed out his failed thrusting. He had only managed to control his hatred out of necessity. Had it not been for Harry and Isaac, he would have killed her then.
Lewis picked up his whiskey, drained it, and hurled the empty glass across the room. It shattered against the marble fireplace. His mouth curled into a tight snarl. Seizing the bottle off the bar, he went in search of Lucy. He found her in the den, curled up in front of the TV, where she watched an old movie on DVD, a half empty glass of water and a wadded up tissue on the table next to her. He sidled closer. The sight of her small, bare feet further enraged him. Grabbing a handful of her hair, he dragged her off the couch and across the floor. Her screams enhanced an already powerful arousal.
In the bedroom at the top of the stairs, he threw her against a wall and snatched a pair of handcuffs from an assortment on the bureau. “Grab the ring, Lucy,” he growled. Turning to face him, she stumbled, her blue eyes wild and her powdered face streaked with tears. “Grab it,” he commanded again. This time she reached for the ring suspended from the ceiling. He cuffed her wrists to the heavy, metal loop and ripped the shimmering, lilac dress off her body. Then he instructed her to turn around.
CHAPTER 17
After Bowen’s car was out of sight, Isaac slipped into the alley behind his modest Brownstone, turned right, and followed the narrow path between buildings until he arrived at the abandoned bakery. He reached inside a broken window and pulled a string to unlock the heavy door.
Pushing it open, he eased into the black interior and made his way from memory to the staircase. The climb was laborious and his heart pounded with every step. At the fifth floor landing, he bent over the railing, heaving.
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