Page 95 of Redd

Holding the back of the chair, I cleared my throat. My nerves started to skip, jumping and popping as a weird mix of adrenaline and uneasiness flooded my body. On the drive there, all I felt was anger, a bitter rage that made me hate her father as much as the man that had held her captive.

Bijou had told me about how Diablo had insinuated that her father was the one to put her there to begin with. I couldn't understand it, and I didn't want to believe that a parent would willingly subject their child to that kind of torture.

Then I thought of my father, and my beliefs changed. Maybe it was possible, maybe it all made sense when I put it together. The bar, the men. . . There was no other reason that fit.

It made me more furious than I had ever been before. What excuse could he possibly have for that?

And then I saw him, I saw the weathered look on his face. Tired eyes, deep sadness and depression spilling in from every corner; I almost felt sorry for him.

He looked like he had been living in a hell of his own.

Sitting quietly, he cupped his hands together on the top of the desk, and just stared at me. We both sat in silence, waiting for the other to break it. I had this whole plan in my head, about how I was going to shake him down, make him feel real bad about what he had done.

I wanted him to know exactly what he had done to his daughter, to feel it, to hate it, to want to fix it so badly he dropped to his knees and begged me for forgiveness.

But now. . . I didn't know where the hell to begin.

Lifting his thumbs, he shrugged his shoulders. “Are you looking for a job? A membership? What are you here for?”

Shaking my head no, I took in a deep breath and scrubbed my forehead. “No, nothing like that.”

Eyeing me, his lips curved down. “Then what are you here for?”

“I need to talk to you aboutsomeone.”

“Someone?” Pushing back in his seat, his lids lowered. “Did my daughter do something? Did Lila do something? If she did, I will—”

“Oh, no,” shaking my head, I sat taller in the chair. “Your daughter didn't do anything.”

Resting his hands on his round belly, he sighed with relief. “Okay, then who are we talking about? Do you have a complaint about one of my staff?”

Spit it out! Just fucking say it already!

“I'm here about someone else, and not someone that works for you.”

Rolling a hand in the air, Pierre shifted in his chair, giving me an awkward smile. “Look, we can play this cat and mouse game all day, or you can get to the point.” Firming his jaw, his eyes met mine. “Get to the point.”

Who are you really Pierre Garrel?

I felt like I was walking this fine line, trying to feel him out. There was a pit in my stomach, it crunched up tight and refused to ease up.

What if I don't like what I hear?

Would I kill him right here? Would I make it quick and fast and not let him suffer? Or would I drag it out, make him feel every ounce of pain as I tore his nails from the beds and stuffed them down his throat.

Did he have the ability to understand what he had done to his own daughter?

Fuck! Why is this so difficult?

Rocking my jaw back and forth, I stared him down. “Diablo.”

Pierre's face turned ghost white as his hands stilled and his breathing slowed down. “I don't know anything about him, I've already told another officer that.”

“I'm not a cop, Pierre.”

“Then why are you here asking me about that man? I have nothing to do with him.”

Don't lie to me. . . I don't like liars.