Personal Demon Page 83


Griffin was holding Carlos in the boardroom. My father had yet to arrive. Ideally, I would have had Griffin quietly relocate Carlos until we got there, but there was no way to do that without the other guards knowing, and no matter what I said, the first guard my father asked would tell him where to find his son.

 

 

I LEFT THE car at the front door and ran in, Paige jogging behind me.

“Is my father here?” I asked the desk guard.

“Y—yes, sir. Upstairs. With your—”

“How long ago?”

“Umm, two, three minutes?”

I threw the car keys on the counter as I passed. “It’s outside. Have someone park it.”

The private elevator would still be on the executive level, so we took the staff one as far as we could, then the stairs the rest of the way. Paige waved me on ahead—she’d catch up.

As I raced through the door, voices drifted from the other side of the floor.

“If you’ll just wait, sir.”

“Get out of my way, Griffin,” my father replied.

“I need to update you—”

“Move, Griffin. Now!”

I knew Griffin would step aside. No one disobeyed a direct order from my father.

I broke into a run.

“Dad,” Carlos said. “I heard—”

“You spoiled little brat.”

A crash and a yelp from Carlos. I rounded the final corner to see the guards at the end of the long hall, clustered around Griffin.

“Griffin, stop him,” I called.

“I can’t—”

“Who did my father leave in charge?”

“Lucas, I can’t—”

“I am in charge, and I gave you an order.”

A moment of shocked silence then, as I drew close, Griffin nodded and went into the room.

“Mr. Cortez, you don’t want to do this,” he said.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” I muttered.

I yanked the guard blocking the door out of the way. Carlos lay on the floor, blood dripping from his nose, eyes glued to our father as he advanced on him.

“What happened, Carlos?” my father said, voice low. “Was it because I wouldn’t advance you money to buy a new sports car? Or because I stopped buying off the whores you beat up? Or because you got sick of having to work for a living? No, not work. Just show up. Because that’s all I asked of you.”

“Papá—” I said.

“Stay out of this, Lucas.” He didn’t turn from Carlos. “I gave you every opportunity. An Ivy League education…and you wouldn’t show up for class. A five-million-dollar trust fund…that was gone before you turned thirty. A VP’s salary, with zero responsibilities…and you whine because I expect you here by ten every morning. I always knew you were a vain, vacuous, vicious brat, Carlos, but I blamed your mother’s influence. I told myself you just needed guidance. I was wrong. Your brothers, Carlos…”

“Dad, I—”

“Your brothers!” he thundered.

His hands flew up in a spell. Carlos seemed frozen, making no move to cast back, as if he’d forgotten he could, as if this was a nightmare he couldn’t escape even by simply diving out of the spell’s path.

So I leapt into it.

The energy bolt hit my side and I convulsed, blacking out for a split second before hitting the floor and jerking back to consciousness. Consternation crossed my father’s face, then vanished as his expression went blank.

“Lucas, get out of the way.”

“Yes, Lucas,” Carlos said. “We wouldn’t want to see you get hurt.”

I pushed to my feet and got between Carlos and my father…earning a shove between the shoulder blades for my trouble.

“You heard Dad. Get out of the way. You don’t want to spoil his fun. He’s been dying to do this for twenty years. Dying to beat the snot out of me. Tell me how he really feels.”

“Lucas, get out of—”

“No.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Carlos said. “You just can’t help yourself, can you, Lucas?”

 

“Papá, listen—”

“Go save someone who needs saving,” Carlos cut in. “He’s not going to kill me. He might hate me. He might wish I was dead. He might wish he could do the job himself. But he can’t. I’m all he has left.”

“No,” my father said slowly. “You aren’t.”

His gaze shunted to me. Carlos snarled in rage and I spun to stop him from attacking our father. His eyes met mine and I realized it wasn’t our father he was after. Before I could dive out of the way, he kicked my feet out from under me. As I fell, his arm went around my neck, crushing my windpipe as he yanked me back onto my feet.

I opened my mouth to cast, but couldn’t speak. When I jabbed my elbow into his chest, his arm tightened, cutting off my air.

“You’re right, Dad,” he said. “I’m not all you have left. But I can fix that.”

With his free hand, he grabbed my hair and yanked my head back, letting our father watch as I wheezed and gasped.

“Do you know how easy it is to kill someone like this? How fast I can do it? Faster than you can cast a spell. But don’t take my word for it, Dad. Give it a shot.”

“Carlos, let him go. He only wanted to help. Let him go and we’ll talk.”

Carlos laughed. “Whoo-hoo. Listen to that. Who wants to play ‘voice of reason’ now? What’s wrong, Dad?” His arm tightened so fast I gasped, eyes bulging. “Am I making you nervous? You should see your face, Papá. Sure, you’ll grieve for Hector and William, but this—” He heaved me backward. “This one would hurt.”

“If you—”

“Oh, that’s the way. Threaten me. Come on, Dad. Tell me what horrible things you’ll do to me if I hurt your baby boy. You say I don’t pull my weight around here? At least I show up. This one spends his working hours trying to destroy us. He moves clear across the country to get away from you. Marries a witch. Adopts a Nast. You build him an office, and he uses his trust fund to buy it from you. Sets up shop fighting Cabals with your money.

Anything to screw you over. But you keep chasing him, like a pathetic SOB who wants the one piece of tail that can’t run away fast enough.”

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