She grabbed my wrist and squeezed it. “I know you’re a good man. I know you’re better than this.”
I watched new tears well up inside her eyes before they bubbled and dripped out. Her fingers wrapped around my wrist just the way she gripped my arms when we were in bed the night before. Something shifted inside me, a feeling I couldn’t identify. I wasn’t even sure if it was good or bad. “I’m not a good man. I take intelligence from friends and allies, and I sell it to their enemies for a profit. I’m not better than the law since I refuse to obey it. I live by my own rules, my own moral code. If I want to sell you, I will. I don’t give a damn if you’re an innocent woman trying to save lives. To me, you’re just a pawn in a game. Your suffering and your death mean absolutely nothing to me.” I twisted my hand from her grasp. “Nothing.”
I sat on the couch and watched the minutes tick by. The large hand of the grandfather clock moved round and round, marking down to the moment when Bones would land on the field outside my home.
I sipped my scotch, feeling the ice cubes press against my lips as I drank. When the glass was empty, I refilled it and rested it on my knee, staring at the clock again. London had stopped sobbing fifteen minutes ago. Even with her door closed to her bedroom upstairs, I could still hear her cries.
They annoyed me.
Finley entered the room. “Sir, the helicopter has just landed. Bones will be here shortly.”
I raised my glass to him. “Thanks, Finley.”
He nodded and left.
I abandoned my drink and rose to my feet, adjusting my tie without seeing myself in a mirror. I placed my hands in my pockets and walked to the front door. “London, get your ass down here.” I’d give her a second to take a breath before she walked downstairs to be claimed by this madman. But if she waited too long, I’d walk up there and drag her down by her hair.
Finley opened the front door and ushered Bones and his two cronies inside.
“Always a pleasure.” I shook Bones’ hand.
“Likewise. And where’s my little pleasure?” He wore a gray suit with a black tie, standing at my height but with much more fat around the middle.
“She’s coming.”
“Excellent.” Bones handed a suitcase to me. “It’s all in there.”
While Bones was evil, he wasn’t a cheat. If he said the money was in there, I knew he was good for it. “Thank you.” I set it down beside me.
Bones extended his hand again, and one of his cronies pulled a chain from a bag. It was black and heavy, and at the end was a collar meant to bind around someone’s neck. It was old and rusty, probably worn by other slaves he’d had before London. He opened the collar and separated the two pieces of metal, ready to wrap it around her neck.
He was going to have her on a leash for the entire ride to Rome.
I stared at the metal and thought about all the things he would do to her, about the way he’d already punched her in the face and given her a black eye. Bones was big and strong. London didn’t stand a chance against him.
Memories from last night flooded my mind—the scorching kisses she gave me and how tight her pussy was. Bones would never give her that kind of sex, the merciful kind. It would only be chains, whips, and broken bones.
I actually felt sorry for her.
“What’s taking her so long?” Bones asked with a sigh. “I should be getting back. Besides, I’m eager to play with my new toy.” He grinned in a sickening way, one eye smaller than the other. His teeth were crooked, and he smelled like old garlic.
I looked at the chain again, feeling uneasy.
“Crewe,” Bones said with a growl. “Did you hear me?”
I came back to the conversation, still utterly confused. I didn’t have a clue what was happening to me. All I could think about was London hopping on one foot as she tried to run from Bones with her other leg broken. She would be tortured every single day, unable to sleep because she would be so terrified. If he didn’t kill her, she would die from a heart attack.
Or she would kill herself.
For the first time in my life, pity rose in my heart.
“I’m sorry you’ve come all this way, but I’ve changed my mind.” I couldn’t stop staring at the metal collar, wondering how heavy it would feel once it sat on London’s shoulders. “I’ll compensate you for your trouble.”
Bones raised an eyebrow, his rage burning under the skin. “Is this a joke, Crewe?”
“I’m afraid not.” I snapped my fingers. “Finley, retrieve the yellow envelope in my desk drawer.”
“Right away, sir.” Finley darted down the hallway and disappeared.
“Was this all a sick game?” Bones demanded. “I didn’t realize you were the stupid type.”
I moved the briefcase to his feet, returning the money. “It was never a game. I’ve just realized how she could be better suited.” Finley returned with the envelope and handed it to me. “But I’m compensating you one million for wasting your time. I understand you’re a busy man.” I dropped it into his hand.
His anger disappeared once he felt the wad of cash.
“I’m sure there will be no hard feelings.” It was the easiest million he would ever make in his life.
Bones handed it to one of his cronies and silently asked him to count it.
I pretended not to be offended.
“What are you going to do with her?” Bones finally asked.
“Not sure. Might keep her for my own entertainment.”
Bones didn’t smile, but he no longer seemed jovial. “Can’t blame you.” He grabbed the suitcase and handed it off to one of his men. “Good evening, Crewe. Until next time.”
I followed him to the door. “Until next time.” I watched him walk out and return to the helicopter far away on the field. Clouds covered the sky and it looked like it might rain. In fact, it would probably pour. I felt the cool air brush against my skin, and I wondered exactly what I had done. I’d risked pissing off one of my greatest allies—all for one woman. That conversation could have gone much worse. He could have declared war on me, making me an enemy for wasting his time. Somehow, I got lucky. If I hadn’t given him that cash, things could have ended quite differently. Instead of making back the money Joseph owed me, I lost more of it.
How the fuck did that happen?
9
London
I couldn’t go down there.
My legs refused to move. I couldn’t hold my own weight. I hadn’t left the bed since Crewe walked out. The tears came and went. Just when they stopped, they’d start back up again. My chest carried a permanent ache that wouldn’t go away.
I considered jumping out the window and trying to break my neck. But from the second story, it just wasn’t high enough. Crewe seemed like a man with guns in the house, but I hadn’t found any.
How did my life come to this?
The day before I was dragged out of my bed in the middle of the night, I had just finished my rotation on the surgical floor. I was fascinated by my patients, genuinely concerned for their recovery and their lives. I felt a high, a rush from doing something meaningful.