3. Good Luck

3

GOOD LUCK

SOPHIA

I'm stunned into silence for a long moment. Blood pounds, and my face and ears grow warm with humiliation as realization of my idiocy clouds my senses. I'm startled by the thought that this could be true, not just some lewd fabrication that Caddell is spewing. Though the chance is small, it's possible. I refuse to believe him without obtaining a DNA test for good measure.

God, do I even want that? The truth. What would Mazen do with it? What would I do with it?

"So, she can heed orders."

At the sound of his animated voice, I lift my head to him, keenly aware that this night will go down as the longest night of my life. If I survive it, that is.

"Good. Like I was saying, for your sake, you'd better hope Mazen gives two shits about you. If he doesn't comply with the ransom request Knox issued, you'll be dead before their dog … what's his name? Jupiter, is it? Yeah. Before he takes his morning shit. Frankly, I'd like to see how the media sp ins that one. People love that dog. He is a cutie, I will admit."

Taking a quick, sharp inhale, I breathe out another appeal as hopelessness settles in the pit of my empty stomach. "You might as well let Knox have at it then because Mazen won't comply. Especially after you planted the notion that I'm keeping secrets from him. He probably hates me now. Good luck getting a dime. They probably all hate me now and are glad you took out their trash."

"I want to send a picture of me covered in your blood to your piece-of-shit father rotting in jail."

This tangent is disorienting.

"Hell, I had planned to do just that." He motions to a large black bag and shovel resting against the brick wall behind him. "This revelation unfolding is too good to miss though. Knox will be upset. The poor fucker is still jaded. That whole if I can't have her, no one will mentality he has is rather childish if you ask me. I honest to God want to see how this all pans out now. Call it curiosity."

Setting my lips into a stubborn line, I stare wordlessly at him from my chair. Finally, I manage a reply. "Curiosity killed the cat, you idiot. He's not going to pay you. I told you he's not my real boyfriend. His publicist staged our relationship for the media. It's nothing more than a facade to trick listeners into thinking that their idolized singer has a heart, a good side."

"What kind of angle do you think the publicist will play when the world learns of your child … his child? Maybe she'll plant it like there was a sordid affair between the band members, and you didn't know who the father was, so you went into hiding, only for them to find out the truth ten years later. It could be a soap opera or a romance novel. I love it." He grins wide, devouring the sound of his own ignorant voice.

Ignoring his taunt, I try to erect a wall of defense against him. "If Lorenzo is your friend, business associate, or whatever the hell you call two morally screwed-up men plotting the demise of his son, you would know that you can't ruin his son's life without some blowback. The news of Mazen fathering a child will surely impact his in-the-spotlight governor father. Who's to say that Lorenzo isn't trying to capitalize on you? You out his son, and he gets the glory, playing the grandfather-in-mourning card."

"Staged or not, you owe me. I'm collecting. Lorenzo won't be a problem. I can assure you. We both want the same thing."

"Which is?"

"What does everyone want? Power. He wants to ruin his son's career. Haven't you been paying attention, Sophia? Lorenzo never wanted his son to be a musician. You're the answer to that."

A thick chill forms between us.

"Mazen would have given up everything if he knew he had a child. He wouldn't be the rock star he is today. He'd be by his father's side, running their business and raising little Roman."

Bile rises in my throat at another mention of his name, but I welcome the burn. It takes a solid ten seconds before I swallow. The fiery tingle is a reminder that I'm still alive, even if only as Caddell's sole entertainment. My life is in shambles while he looks as chill as one can be.

"Evidently, the family business you're referring to runs deeper than politics."

"Beautiful and smart. It's a pity you didn't marry Knox. I think you could do better than owning that little tattoo studio."

I toss my head back in laughter. "You don't have to smooth-talk me. You've already won. My father is behind bars. It's been ten years since his damn arraignment. What do you get out of all of this? If Lorenzo wants Mazen to stop making music, what's your reward for engineering that demise?"

"Your father can't pay me from behind bars, now can he? I don't care that his life is ruined. He still owes me. Which means you owe me the one hundred fifty thousand dollars he embezzled. Either your little lover comes calling and pays up or you're as dead as the man who was shot as a noble sacrifice to frame your good ole dad, which landed him in jail for his unfaithfulness to me."

A mixture between astonishment and anger clouds my vision. I knew my father couldn't have killed a man. Embezzling money from someone as slimy as Caddell? Sure. That's believable. Did he spiral after my mom's death? Absolutely. I never believed he could stoop so low as to commit murder. Suddenly, it all makes sense. He was caught skimming money from Caddell, so he set my father up, leaving the debt incurred from stealing from him onto the shoulders of me and my sister, Lacey.

"You framed him for murder because he stole from you?"

Caddell's lips flatten as he stiffens under my scrutiny for once. I hear his quick intake of breath, and for a minute, I feel like I'm the powerful one in the room. Sure, I'm still tied to a chair. My bladder feels like it's expanded big enough that it could house a grand piano in its large quarters, and I'm fairly certain that my face resembles that of an MMA fighter after a title upset. In this fleeting moment, he's speechless, which means I hold a sliver of control over him. Surprise is written across his face at my audacity to call him out.

"No one steals from me."

"And no one has that kind of money either, least of all me. I wouldn't have run from you in the first place if I could have just written you a check, called it a day, and been on my merry way. So, are you going to try to incriminate me for a crime I didn't commit, too, or are you going to have Knox do it so you don't have to stain your pretty hands? It's what you're good at, right? Calling the shots, but never enforcing them yourself."

His right hook comes out of nowhere. The impact jars my cheek, moving my head to the side, away from my perpetrator.

"Knox has been my informant for years, you foolish girl." He jumps up from his seat in front of me again, wrenching my throbbing face in his rough, callous hand once more before he tilts my chin up so I'm forced to look directly into his soulless eyes. "Have you not been listening? If you had a pot to piss in, it'd already be mine. I have every reason to believe that Mazen will call. He'll pay your debt, and then I'll end your miserable life, track down Roman's DNA. There's got to be something you saved of his. I'll solve my old friend Lorenzo's problem too. Mazen will be crippled by your loss and the loss of a child he didn't even know he had. It's a win-win."

I grit my teeth, biting back the words that are desperate to escape the cage my teeth are housing them behind. I'm desperate to throw it in his face again that he doesn't have the balls to do anything himself. The heavy sting of my throbbing cheek silences me enough to hold in my desire to fire off another question.

My willpower is short-lived when I ask only seconds later, "How will my death help Lorenzo gain Mazen's compliance?"

"He'll spiral. Hard. I have no doubt. When Bethany—I assume you know about his deceased sister—died, he went off the rails. He'll be shattered by the news of your death and about Roman. Lorenzo, the best father in this sunny state, will be there to pick up the pieces."

"I think you're underestimating how much Mazen hates his father," I sneer as the beginning of a smile tips up the corner of my mouth. Rebellion should have been my middle name, yet my parents settled on Rose. "You see, his sister, Bethany, would still be alive if their wack job of a sperm donor hadn't sealed her fate by putting her into a vehicle with her brother, knowing he had been drinking. Mazen despises his father."

There's a plot hole the size of Texas in his plan.

I watch as Caddell's face goes grim, his mouth dipping into a grimace of despair. His determination falters in the next heartbeat. I can see the realization settle in the deep lines of his face. He knows I'm not lying. No ransom will be paid tonight. My father's debt will only be paid with my bloodshed.

I straighten my shoulders, clear my throat, and raise my chin with an icy stare in his direction. If this is the end, I'm going to run my mouth until my heart stops beating. "He blames Lorenzo for taking his sister away from him. Just like I blame you for stealing my son from me and framing my father! You're nothing but a washed-out, small-sack, middle-aged man who's trying to keep his empire from crumbling. News flash: you've been chasing me for years, banking on a pipe dream that I'd ante up. Which means that empire you think you're sitting at the top of is already turning into rubble at your feet. Why else would you be so needy for a payday?"

"Don't for one fucking second insult me. You might have felt safe, running from Chicago and settling here, but you've been on my radar. You just haven't had jack shit that I could take from you. That heap of a building you rent wouldn't cover a fraction of the debt I'm owed. The only way I saw it happening was you winning the lottery or paying with your life, and I promise my balls are plenty big."

He cups his junk through his dress pants. I instantly want to hurl.

"Your boyfriend will pay the ransom by"—he looks at the gold watch on his wrist—"midnight. Or you'll be the perfect late-night snack for the sharks."

I struggle against the zip ties around my wrists. "Don't you listen, or is it only when you can hear yourself speaking that you actually pay attention? He isn't my real boyfriend," I repeat like a broken record. "He doesn't give two shits about me. I work for hi—"

That's it. An epiphany clamors against sensible rationality in my chest. I pray like hell that Caddell is as money hungry as he claims he is. Regrouping, I square my shoulders as my thoughts reel, assembling a plan to get out of this unfortunate situation. My lips part in surprise before a thoughtful smile curves them upward.

I will not become shark food today.

"I have a contract with Mazen's label, Near Death Records." A sudden feeling of optimism soars in my chest like a hot-air balloon whizzing into the big, open blue sky. " That's how you'll get paid. They're paying me to date him."

"Go on," he instructs .

"It's simple. All you have to do is …" I pause. My determination to get my plan out falters when a lump in my throat stalls my breathing. I swallow down my nerves that are sharp as the point on a tack. "Let me go." Anticipation stirs in my chest as hope blossoms. A bloom flourishes in the space for the first time in hours. "I won't tell anyone about what happened. I'll … I'll tell them I needed some space or something."

"And what, you ran into a brick wall as you were hell-bent on getting away from them?"

"Listen, I want you out of our lives just as much as you want your money. This is how we both walk away, alive and satisfied. Once the tour is over, I'll earn my check from their label. I'll pay you. You have my word, and then we'll end this delightful partnership like two colleagues who will never ever need to cross paths again."

"Your face, Sophia," he presses, stating the obvious for the second time as he ignores my plan entirely. "You can't just stroll around the city like that and not cause alarm. People will ask questions."

"Shit." Think. "I'll say I got mugged outside of my apartment. Like I told you, none of them care about me like you think they do." My body wants to revolt at the words as soon as they leave my dry, parted lips. "They won't even bat an eye at my appearance. I'm nothing more than their tattoo artist. I swear it."

I try convincing my tormenter, knowing, at least hoping, that I do mean something to them. Even if I've been harboring a giant secret about my past. Though I know damn well that as soon as any member of the band sees me, they're going to lose their shit and demand answers. Answers I'll fight like hell to protect. I don't need a mirror to know that my face is battered, like my heart. Because as I try to smile wickedly at Caddell, the pain that tugs as my cheeks pull wide is nothing compared to the lashes Knox unleashed, threatening those I loved before he dragged me down the steps and into the path of his awaiting uncle.

"When's payday?"

Hook, meet fish.

I spit on the floor, finding a perverse pleasure as it spews across the toe of his shoe when I reply, "Four weeks."

In a swift move, Caddell grabs a fistful of my hair in his iron-clad grip. I can feel the roots screaming as his blunt clasp rips them from my head. I'm truly fearful that I'm going to have a bald spot with how many times he's done this same move.

"Don't fuck this up, Lozier." His sharp eyes bore into mine. His threat is tangible as his fingers now hover at the base of my neck. "You'll get it far worse than your daddy ever thought possible."

On my next breath, the rope around my wrists loosens. I didn't even realize he was cutting me free. Greed is by far the most powerful sin.

"My trust is waning by the minute."

On shaky legs, I rise, chin held high. "I have more to lose than you," I say through gritted teeth as Caddell's brow arches in question. "My family"—I realize briefly that the band, their adorable dog, and everyone I've met while working for them are lumped in that declaration, along with my sister—"will not have a hair on their heads disturbed while you wait for this money. Do you hear me?"

He nods, listening to my every demand as if my words were coated in gold themselves. "You have my word."

I turn, holding myself together with mere pride, refusing to fall by the weight of his stare as he watches me walk up the wooden steps. It takes every ounce of control left in me not to turn around and tell him that his word means nothing to me.

One foot in front of the other, I climb, even though my body feels like crumbling. Because if getting beaten to shit has taught me anything … it's that I'm more resilient than I ever thought possible.

When the basement door swings wide, revealing a freedom I prayed for … hours … a whole day—hell, I don't even know how much time has truly passed—nothing but rage fills my chest, and I know that I'll happily go through hell and back if it means protecting those I love.

Lacey, Mazen, Oliver, and Cannon.