“Obviously. And what else?”

“Nothing.” Except that Susannah would be at Sheila Cunningham’s funeral today. And that there were probably a dozen things the GBI mole had not mentioned.

And I’m scared. There were too many unexpected and unwelcome developments. This had the feel of an iceberg lurking beneath the water. Impact was certain and imminent. Bobby hated to be scared. Charles could always sense fear.

Charles stood up, his lips curled in disgust. “I have to be going.”

“Where?”

“The Cunningham girl is being buried today,” he said. “I would be remiss were I not to attend.” He stepped closer, his shadow falling over Bobby’s chair. And he waited.

Despite sincere efforts to not meet his eyes, Bobby finally looked up, and as always, could not look away. I hate you, old man.

“You disappoint me, Bobby. You are afraid. And that, more than anything else, makes you a failure.”

Bobby wanted to speak, but no words would come and Charles laughed bitterly.

“Your ‘guy’ did not fail at Mansfield ’s house, Bobby. Your ‘personnel’ inside the hospital did not fail. Your assistant did not fail. You did. You sit in this relic of a house, believing you are pulling strings.” Contempt dripped from his voice. “That you are a master. But you are not. You sit here, hiding from the world. And from your birthright.”

Charles leaned forward. “You wish you were a master, but you’re no more than a shadow of what you might have been. All you command is a chain of mobile whorehouses that pander to truckers on the interstate. You play at being a high-priced ‘purveyor of fine flesh,’ but you’re nothing more than a glorified pimp. You were much more interesting when you were a high-priced whore yourself.”

Bobby’s heart was pounding. Say something. Defend yourself. But no words came and Charles’s mouth twisted into a sneer. “Have you found out why Susannah came back? Of course you haven’t. You’ll let her slip away, back to New York City, so far away.” He whined the last three words, mocking. “You could have gone to New York at any point and had your revenge, but you obviously don’t want it badly enough.”

Charles stepped back and Bobby’s eyes followed, like a bird hoping for the smallest morsel. I hate you, old man. Charles shoved his ivory box of chess pieces under his arm. “I’ll not return until you can show me you deserve my respect.”

Charles left and Bobby sat stewing. But Charles had been right. I’ve become insulated. Completely out of touch. The decision was clear. “Tanner! I need you. I’m going out. You need to help me dress.”

Tanner frowned. “You think this is a good idea?”

“I do. Charles was right. I’ve been hiding here for two days, pulling weak strings that keep snapping. I don’t have a lot of time. Where is that trunk of old clothes?”

“You’re going to wear your mother’s clothes? Bobby. That’s so wrong.”

“Of course I’m not going to wear Mother’s clothes, she was too short.”

“And she had hideous fashion sense.”

“Well, that, too. Grandmother was taller. Her stuff should fit. Where is Rocky?”

“Off licking her wounds, I would imagine.”

“Find her. She’s going with me. But first she’s going to show me all the girls she has in the pipeline. Glorified pimp, my ass. Charles will eat those words. But I have given Rocky too much power. I’ll oversee the new acquisitions from here on out.”

Tanner’s eyes gleamed. “I know all her passwords and screen names.”

Bobby blinked. “How?”

Tanner shrugged. “I’m a thief and always will be, but I keep up with technology. I sent a Trojan to her computer that logs all her keystrokes. I know every mark she’s been cultivating for the last six months and where they live.”

“You wily old man. I always underestimate you.”

“Yes, you do.” But he smiled as he said it.

Bobby started up the stairs, then stopped and looked back down at him. “Was I more interesting when I was a high-priced whore?”

“Infinitely. But you can’t do that anymore, so you adapt and move on.”

“You’re right. Make sure the girls are shackled to the wall. Who’s on duty today?”

“It was Jesse Hogan, but…” Tanner shrugged.

“But Beardsley killed him. Hogan was stupid to let a prisoner get the drop on him. Call Bill. If he whines about the overtime, tell him I’ll pay him double.” The guards were one group Bobby kept well-paid. “We need to hire another guard to take Hogan’s place.”

“I’ll take care of it. Anything else?”

Bobby looked around the foyer. “Charles called this house a relic.”

“About that, he was right. This place is drafty and none of the appliances work correctly, especially the stove. It’s impossible to make a good cup of tea when the water never boils.”

“So let’s find another house. I have enough money. Let’s blow this relic.”

Tanner’s gray brows went up cagily. “I hear the old Vartanian house is empty.”

Bobby laughed. “In good time, Tanner. For now, help me dress for this funeral. And make sure my gun is loaded.”

Charles looked in his rearview mirror as he pulled away from the curb. Tanner had given him the evil eye as he’d shown him out, but Bobby had become complacent and needed that kick in the ass. He thought of how far they’d come since the day they’d met. He’d known there was something there, something worth molding. The baggage Bobby carried made his job all the easier. There had been a drive, a need to dominate.

Part of it came from the man who’d raised Bobby with an iron fist. He was long dead, having raised his iron fist to Bobby once too often. Bobby raised an iron fist right back and beat the man to death with it, along with his wife. Tanner had somehow been involved, to what extent, Charles had never been able to determine. He did know that Tanner had been charged and Bobby had helped the old man escape. Since then, they’d been inseparable.

But Tanner was old, as much a relic as that house. Bobby needed to move on. To claim that birthright, because the lion’s share of Bobby’s desire to dominate was genetic. It was an indisputable fact to anyone who took the time to look, but surprisingly, no one had. No one but me. Charles often wondered why no one else had seen what had been so obvious the first time he’d looked into Bobby’s blue eyes.

It was as indelible as a brand.

Speaking of which, Charles had to admit he was a bit surprised at Susannah. She’d gone to the police and told them about Darcy Williams. He truly had not anticipated that. However, he was certain she’d said no more than she’d had to. Six years ago he’d led her to a place she never even conceived existed. He’d shown her the depth of perversion of which she personally was capable. Not once, not twice, but again and again until she couldn’t pretend it hadn’t been her idea, until she despised herself for the depths of obsession to which she’d sunk and clung.

That’s where Bobby and Susannah were different, he mused. Bobby yearned for the birthright. Susannah spurned it. Both were equally intense in their goal.

Intensity made for vulnerability. This he’d learned the hard way.

This morning he’d pushed Susannah and she’d responded by confessing. In hindsight, he should have seen that coming. She’d turned to her faith after the Darcy episode. Her faith and her career. And in both had convinced herself she was back in control. But Charles knew differently. His mentor Pham always said that once one tasted the forbidden, the flavor lingered. Tempted.

Charles could push Susannah where he wanted her to go. It was a challenge.

Today he’d pushed Bobby. Now he had to stand back and see how his star pupil would respond. He sincerely hoped Rocky would be dealt with. He’d been even less pleased with Bobby’s choice of recruit than he’d been with Granville’s.