Page 1 of Blackmailing Belle (The Lost Girls #4)

Chapter 1

A Lapful of Leverage

THE BEAST OF BOSTON

I thumb the edge of the file I have open, scanning the contents for the third time.

Twenty-eight years old. Owner of Chapter Three, Belle’s Romance Bookstore.

"She’s perfect." My words are low, bordering on a growl.

Hesitation swirls around the two men across from me like a physical cloud.

I close the file, moving it to the end of my antique walnut desk, reaped from the trees of Neverland itself. The heavy curtains are drawn, casting the room in enough darkness that Lucien and Tock can’t get a good look at me, though I see both of them perfectly.

Long slivers of afternoon light manage to break through the velvet curtains and stretch across the floor. My lip curls as I cross the red antique rug, noting the claw marks scored into its fibers. Mrs. P has offered to fix it many times, but I always tell her to leave it. I need the reminder of what I am.

I’d only ruin the new carpets.

No, it’s best to see, to be aware of the damage I do .

I pour two fingers of rum with my left hand. My human hand.

"Speak," I command.

The crystal glass grows lighter as I drink, the silence broken only by Lucien and Tock's urgent murmurs. They shift and fidget, elbowing each other forward until Lucien finally breaks.

"I don’t think this will work." My enforcer runs a hand through his floppy blond hair.

Lucien’s admission spurs Tock to gather his courage. The large, muscled man adjusts his round glasses. "What if she says no?"

Half my mouth curls back in a humorless smile.

"I don’t pay you two to think," I address Lucien’s concern, ignoring the impossibility of the second question.

The rest of my drink burns all the way down my throat, but not enough. It’s too smooth. The harder life gets, the stronger I need my alcohol. That way I feel I have some power over the pain.

It doesn’t control me if I choose it.

Instead of bowing, scraping, and scurrying away to fetch the girl for me, Tock sucks in a deep breath. "Dragging this young woman into this, we don’t normally. . ."

A familiar sting and burn spirals through my muscles, spearing up into my brain. The glass shatters in my hand, shards slicing through my palm and fingers.

A roar erupts from me even as my vision turns red. Anger burns and boils me from the inside out.

Grabbing the entire bottle of 1902 Jolly Roger rum in my clawed paw, I hurl it against the wall between them. Both men flinch as it smashes in a spectacular spray of brown liquor and glass too close to their heads.

Tock instantly backs up several steps, bowing, avoiding eye contact and submitting to my wrath. Lucien freezes in place.

Before I realize I’ve moved, I’m bearing over Lucien. Saliva dribbles out the corner of my mouth, my fangs elongating and contracting as a deep hunger for blood grips me.

His blood.

I hear it racing through his veins, begging me to tear into him like he’s no more than a piece of meat. “What would you have me do?”

Fur sprouts on the backs of my hands before receding just as quickly.

"I’m running out of time." The words come out of me in a low, dangerous growl. My enforcer does his best to hold his ground, but Lucien reeks of fear.

His eyelids flutter as if he has to fight to keep them open to meet mine.

"Yes, boss." There’s a tremor in his voice that makes me want to rip his throat out all the more.

I’m on the edge in a moment, balanced on the tipping point. It would be so easy to let go. To give in and tear out that bobbing Adam's apple.

Lucien knows better than to turn and run. That will only excite me more. He may be lanky and fast, but he’s still just a human. He wouldn’t stand a chance against my speed and power.

"I-I’ll get her for you," Lucien says, his words wavering while the blood drains from his face, turning his skin waxy and pale.

"We’ll bring her to you," Tock confirms. Sweat beads along his mahogany brown forehead.

Sense hammers into my violence-fueled brain. Turning my back on my men, I stalk to my desk.

"See that you do. "

Only after I hear the click of the door close after him do I let out a heavy sigh. Exhaustion and disgust weigh me down.

I bare my teeth, stepping back from the edge. My men have always been unflinchingly loyal, but this is the first time I’ve seen them balk at a command. They’re used to the production and selling of Thorns. They are often busy blunting the tiny sharp teeth of our rivals who think they can replace me or take over my business. Those mutts are becoming more bothersome by the day.

But this? Manipulating a girl who has no idea what she’s worth? It’s not the job my men know, and I can feel their unease.

Soon, our enemies will need to be dealt with permanently, but for now, we have another pawn to maneuver in our game of power and control.

What if she says no?

Lucien’s question wasn’t even worth a response.

No one says no to the Beast of Boston. I’ve made sure of that.

Everyone has a pressure point, a price. Luckily for me, Isabelle Lockhart’s has fallen right into my lap.

I stare at the live security feed along the wall. A couple of the screens are cracked beyond repair, but they’ll be replaced by tomorrow.

My leverage is currently sitting in a concrete cell in the basement. And that leverage guarantees me what I need.

Isabelle .