“H-he—he h-h-has . . .” He pointed at the other man when talking became too difficult.
I stepped off his knee and bent over the dead man next to him, checking his pockets with my free hand until I found a small, thick envelope. I pulled it out and opened it, and had only read the first cardstock before everything inside me went numb.
This wasn’t like for like.
He’d lost his goddamn mind.
I looked at the man on the floor from under my eyelashes, and growled, “Kill her.”
He nodded slowly as a sob burst from him, and the front of his pants became wet. “J-j-just do it. Do it. K-kill me!”
I bent down to drop the second cardstock on the chest of the dead man, and then placed the first on the quivering man. I stepped back, pulled out my phone, and took a picture of the men and sent the picture to William with the words:
Because she’s still breathing, one of them will continue to . . .
William’s cards were in plain view, both with bold, swirling letters.
Now you know how it feels . . .
I hope you enjoyed her . . .
After the message was sent, I squatted so I was near the man still alive, but getting closer and closer to losing consciousness with each passing minute, and let my calm slip just enough so he would never forget me, never forget my next words, and would never think to come after what was mine again.
“Three people have lost their lives because they’ve tried to take that girl from me, and another will never walk again. The only reason I’m not going to take my time killing you is because she is still breathing. Consider yourself lucky that you can be a message to anyone else who thinks they can tear her away from me.” I leaned closer and growled, “I would burn the world to keep her safe.”
I stood as I let my calm take over again and walked slowly away from the men.
When I reached my driver, his stare was bouncing from the floor to me, and he was cringing, like he was waiting for something else.
But I’d done enough.
“Get someone over here to dump these men on William’s driveway, and someone else to fix the carpet in my room.”
He dipped his head in a faint nod and avoided meeting my eyes. “Y-yes, Mr. Holt.”
“But don’t enter the house until I contact you.”
“Yes, Mr. Holt.”
I ushered Briar into the house and gave her a look, begging her not to say a word until the door was shut behind us and we were walking up the stairs. “Bla—”
“Why can’t he come—?”
“Listen,” I said softly but urgently as I lifted my phone and shot off a message I knew would be received immediately. “I told you I was going to keep you safe, and I will. I’ll do everything I can so that nothing like this ever comes near you again. And the phone call we’re now waiting for can’t be heard by anyone—even the driver.”
She went still at the top of the stairs. “Is William going to call?” she asked breathlessly, her face pale, and her wide eyes terrified.
My eyes narrowed and lips thinned as I tried to push back my anger. “I have a feeling we won’t hear from William for a long time.”
“Then who . . .”
I brushed Briar’s wild hair back from her face, and continued to cradle her head in my hand in those last seconds before that distinct ringtone went off. My heart was beating so hard I knew she could hear it, knew she could understand the urgency and anticipation in the hard pounding. “My handler at the FBI,” I answered. “I’m going to get us out of here.”
Chapter 39
Run Toward Death
Briar
Lucas dipped his head close, sweeping his mouth along my jaw to whisper in my ear, “Don’t say a word.” He pulled away then, answering his ringing phone and putting it on speaker. He placed his hand on the small of my back, leading me deeper into the living area of the top floor. “David.”
Seconds passed in silence, and Lucas’s eyes narrowed, triggering the most incredible change . . .
The wrath in his eyes since the knocking began burned darker until Lucas transformed into someone I’d never seen before.
He wasn’t the man our driver feared. He wasn’t the man who’d enjoyed torturing the hitman in the garage. This man was truly what nightmares were made of. This was him, whoever he was, and he was beautiful.
As I studied the fury that swirled with his darkness, I realized I had been right all those months ago. He was an avenging angel, even more lethal because he had fallen . . .
That was who this man was, and he loved me.
“I didn’t send that message lightly,” Lucas said darkly, his voice rumbling deep within his chest. “Speak.”
“What happened?” the man on the phone asked immediately, a tremor of panic woven throughout his words.
“William just sent men to kill Briar because he failed at taking her from me last week.”
“What do you mean failed at taking her?” the man demanded, his voice rising with each word. “What happened, and why didn’t you contact me?”
Lucas didn’t answer him, only continued. “I’m done; we’re done. We’re leaving today, and you’re providing that.”
Silence greeted us for nearly a minute before the man said “No,” in a dull, reserved tone.
Lucas slammed his hand down onto the table the phone was now on, and bent to lean close to the phone as he yelled, “Did you hear me? He tried to take her from me. He sent men to kill her. I need to get her out of here, so tell me how we do this.”
“We don’t. You can’t leave. You will stay there and finish—”
“If I stay, they won’t stop until she’s dead.”
A chill so cold it couldn’t be described spread through my body, and I swayed on my feet. The day—the last few days—were catching up with me. My fear was becoming a living, breathing thing as I listened to my devil’s voice twist in agony.
His head snapped in my direction, and he quickly pushed away from the table to wrap me up in his strong arms, steadying me as he pulled out a chair and sat in it, keeping me in his lap.
The adrenaline had faded from me, leaving an exhaustion so deep, I couldn’t fight it. I let my head fall onto Lucas’s shoulder and my body go limp as he held me close—trying to protect me from things I couldn’t push from my mind.
“My hands are tied. We can’t jeopardize everything, all these years, for one girl.”
Lucas went still as stone. After a few seconds, his chest expanded with a deep, shuddering breath. Without moving my head, I looked up to find his jaw clenched and eyes murderous.
“You can’t,” he said calmly, but no less terrifying. “I will.”
There was a crashing sound that came through the phone before the man yelled, “Two months. We have spent years preparing for this, and we’re two months away. You can’t ruin this.”