Mitch (Justice, #3)



“All we have to do is wait for them to come out of the house and get enough away from it that we can nab her.” Amber nodded. It was the fourth time he’d told her what their plan was. She didn’t even bother telling him for the tenth time that this was a stupid plan. First of all, she was just one person to take down her daughter; and secondly, every time she asked about what she was to do about the man should he be with her, and he said he had it worked out. But nothing was ever forthcoming about what he had worked out.

“As soon as she is clear, you—”

“Stop telling me what to do.” He took a step back from her anger, and she felt good. But it was short lived. When he hit her with his fist, it first made her sick, but she knew that he’d left something behind when he’d touched her.

The slime, as she’d been calling it, had started yesterday evening. She was in her slumber, her casket closed up and the room dark as night, when she heard something in the room with her. Using a little of her power to turn on the lights, she stared at the thing in front of her and realized with a sudden jolt to the system that he was her mate. And that he was falling apart.

“What has happened to you?” He asked her what she meant, and then he walked in front of her mirror. Of course, there was nothing reflecting back at him, but she got up to go near him. Not to touch him but to get a better view. “Your skin, it’s melting. Like...I don’t know, like you’ve been turned into a candle and you’re falling apart with the heat.”

His hands touched his face, and she watched in horror as his fingers entered his flesh and moved it around like mud after a rainstorm. Amber had to turn away or be sick. She’d never thrown up in her life that she knew of, and she wasn’t about to do it now.

“You’re going to fuck this up.” Amber turned to him now, shielding her mind at how badly he was looking as the night wore on. He’d told her he felt no different than he had before, but she could see it. He was going to be a puddle soon, and she’d be left all alone.

“I’m not going to mess it up. And I really hate that word. Use something else.” He laughed at her. That was another thing she hated, when he laughed at her. “I’m to stop the car when it gets to this point, and then I’m going to try and see my daughter. If she’ll see me. Which I doubt. She’s not returned any of my calls for days now. And even when I try to contact her, she’s blocked me. It’s like hitting a hard solid wall of nothingness. I don’t know how this is going to work either.”

“If you make this look good, then she’ll stop for you.” When she asked him what he meant by that, he only told her to do it. The man’s lack of help in this was going to make her stake him. If she even could. “Have you heard from my sister?”

“Millicent?” He asked her what other sister he’d be talking about. “I don’t know, Horatio, maybe you have in your head that she and I have luncheons together if we could, or we’re the best of friends. Or perhaps you’ve mistaken me for given one bit of concern for the woman who hates me as much as I do her.”

“Then I will take that as a no. I wonder where she’s off to. I know she wants in this house as much as we do.” She asked him why he’d think that. “Well, she sure has been asking me a lot of questions about what we’re going to be doing once we were inside.”

“She asked me too.” He nodded, but Amber thought that perhaps Millicent had another plan in place. “Do you think she means to kill me off once we’re inside?”

“And why would we do that? You’re the only one that is alive enough to move things around for us. We need you to sell off the stuff for the cash.” Well, she thought, that hurt. “And who will help us kill Victoria once we’re in the house? You have to do it, Amber. You’re the only one that can.”

The car coming down the drive kept her from replying. There was plenty to say too. Why was she doing all the work? What were they going to do with all these riches once they got them? Who was she supposed to contact to sell them? Things like that were questions she’d been asking Horrie for days now, and all she ever got in response was that he had it under control.

“What does that say on it?” The van, a big white one with lettering on the side, zoomed past her before she could step out to get it to slow. There wasn’t even time for her to see who was driving the thing, much less try to get inside of it to get her daughter. “Did you read what that said?”

Kathi S. Barton's books