Page 143 of House of Payne

I pour myself a shot and study the glass.

My phone rings again, jolting me out of my reprieve.

I answer without looking. “Hello?”

“London? It’s me. I need your help.” My dad’s voice is low and scratchy. “Do you think you can get away?”

I glance around and lower my voice. “Dad, what’s wrong? Are youokay?”

“You need to get here.” His voice is urgent. “Now.”

I frown. “Dad, I can’t. What’s going on?”

There’s a cacophony of voices, and the sound of a struggle.

Then the line goes dead.

My heart is pounding as I pull the phone away from my ear and dial Noah’s number with trembling fingers.

“Come on, pick up.” A few moments later, I hang up and shove the phone into my pocket. My mind races as I pace the kitchen, sorting through my options. I try my dad, again and again, only to receive the same busy tone. The minutes stretch on, and there’s a heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach. I down my drink and sneak upstairs to the guest room.

Half an hour later, I make it to the small servants’ quarters on the ground floor. I remember the back exit there, duck out of the house and lift the hoodie over my head. I break into a jog, praying no one stops me, making my way to the service gates. I fall to a crouch, moving through the thick foliage around the service road, looking for a way over the complex walls.

I find a tree near the West wall, and climbing it brings back childhood memories that I quickly push away. There’s no time for nostalgia, not when I can be caught at any moment.

One branch hold my weight well enough to allow me to cross the wall, and the drop down send s a jolt through my whole body.

Lucky you didn’t sprain your ankle.

I break into a spring. My hoodie falls back, and the wind whips through my hair, but I don’t care.

I have to get to my dad.

No matter our differences, he needs me, and no one is going to stop me from helping him.

Hang on, Dad. I’ll be there as soon as I can.

I’m covered in sweat when I hurl myself into the backseat of a taxiand hunker down.

He hits the gas and peels away from the estate.

I throw money at him and race from the car before it comes to a complete stop. My heart is in my throat, and I breathe a sigh of relief when I spot my dad’s car in the driveway. Then I burst through the front door and see the overturned side table and shards of glass on the carpet.

“Dad? It’s me.” I creep into the house and flick on the lights. In the living room, I pause when I spot a vague outline. A heartbeat later, I hear a muffled cry and lurch toward the sound, barely able to make out two outlines pressed against each other.

“London, you shouldn’t have come. They lured you here. It’s a—”

Before my dad can finish his sentence, an arm clamps down on my shoulder. I stumble backward, my shriek is cut off as a pair of arms wrap around me from behind. I buck and thrash and throw my head backward, earning a grunt in response.

The last thing I see is my father and Noah’s pale faces, their hands bound, and their mouths moving soundlessly.

Then, the world goes black.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Mason

“How close can we get without drawing attention?” I frown at the map on my desk. “He’s paranoid for a man running for senate.”