“Why? What are you thinking? Do you know who killed them?”
“I need more information.” His eyes were on her face, and this time, he told his leopard very firmly to listen for any note of deception. “Why did you really come here? You read about Evangeline marrying. I know that is true, but you came here looking for answers about your parents, didn’t you? You thought Fyodor might have those answers.”
For the first time, her gaze slid completely from his. Just for a moment, but he caught it. There was the briefest of hesitations. “I did read about Evangeline getting married. I didn’t have anyone else to turn to. I really don’t have other friends, and I’m not trying to sound pathetic. It’s the truth. I came here because I was afraid. As for answers, what would Fyodor know about my parents’ deaths?”
She’d turned that around neatly, but he wasn’t buying it. He paced across the room, sending her a scorching look. “You don’t want to play games with me, baby. Not when I have to protect my family. You fucking tell me the truth. I want to know why you’re here. Cut the bullshit and get to the facts.”
“I have told you the facts.”
He moved fast, a blur of speed. He had her down on the bed, his fingers wrapped around her throat while he loomed over top of her. He let her stare into his eyes. Flat. Cold. Glacier cold. Ice blue. Let her see the kills. So many. Too many. Let her see he was capable of ending her life right there. He let her feel it as well, his fingers easily cutting off all air so that she fought him instinctively, her body thrashing, her feet drumming, her fingers trying to pry his loose.
Only when he was certain she understood the rules did he let her go. She gasped. Wheezed. Fought to pull air into her burning lungs. He got up and got her a glass of water. When he returned she was sitting up slowly. She clearly considered throwing the water in his face, but when he stared her down, she took small sips to allow it to slide down her swollen throat.
She glared at him, but he could see he’d gotten his point across. He hated the fact that he couldn’t disconnect with her. He had perfected the ability in his youth. It had been the only way to survive. Now, with Ashe, even knowing she was lying, he couldn’t disassociate. He was disciplined enough to stay in control, to continue to give her that flat killer’s look that kept her in line, but for the first time since he’d been a child with a father forcing him to hurt others, he felt what he was doing.
She cleared her throat, winced, and then glared some more.
He indicated the glass of water in her hand. “Drink some more. The cold will help.”
She didn’t argue. She drank. He leaned against the bureau, managing to look lazy and unsympathetic. It required all of his acting skills. He waited. He’d done enough interrogations to know when someone would crack. He’d scared her. He’d also pissed her off. She wasn’t completely cowed, which would have been better for them both, but he liked the fact that she wasn’t.
“My mother was a victim of human trafficking when she was just fifteen. At least, that was what was in her journal. I knew where she kept it. She was terrified of her father.”
“From Russia?” The moment he heard the description of her mother’s leopard, the thick, lighter-colored coat, it made sense. Some of the female children were auctioned off or sent to work for a man who ran the brothels for Lazar. He moved the women constantly so they would never make any friends.
“How did she come to be with your father?”
“He was from another country, but very wealthy. His father bought girls at an auction and he purchased my mother and gave her to his son for his birthday.” She cleared her throat and then took another sip of water.
He was patient. In any interrogation it was important to read the one being interrogated. Every nuance. Every expression. He knew when to stay quiet and when to push. He didn’t so much as raise an eyebrow.
“Her leopard rose and was claimed by my father’s leopard. When my father realized that he couldn’t ever marry her, or be with her on a permanent basis, that his father planned to give her to others and then return her to the man who’d sold her when he was finished with her, they ran. My father took enough money to survive for years if they were careful.”
“They had to have been extremely careful to last, what? Twenty years?”
She nodded. “At least I thought they were careful.”