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“Emma is going to ask you some questions.” Grant’s voice was low and commanding, but sounded nothing like the Dominant tone he used on me. No, this one had a brutal, arctic quality to it. He raised the gun and pointed it at the crazy man still glaring daggers at me. “You’re going to answer them, politely and respectfully. Understood?”
Wesley didn’t respond, simply slid his angry glare from me to Grant.
A humorless chuckle rolled off Grant’s throat as he strolled to the kitchen, returning a few seconds later gripping a large knife. Without a word, he slammed the blade deep into the wood between Wesley’s splayed legs.
Wesley’s eyes widened and muffled cry of terror leaked behind the duct tape.
“Listen up, shit for brains. You got two seconds to decide if you want to play games, or answer questions,” Grant growled.
Whimpering, Wesley frantically nodded toward me.
“Wise choice,” Grant drawled before ripping the duct tape off his mouth.
Sucking in a hiss, Wesley narrowed his eyes on me. “What do you want to know, bitch?”
As fast as a flash of lightning, Grant’s fist collided with Wesley’s mouth.
His head snapped back, and blood spilled down his chin as his screams of pain filled the air.
I don’t think you know how truly evil and ugly my dark side is, baby.
Grant was right, I didn’t. And though the high-pitched screams bouncing off the walls made my stomach swirl, something dark, and evil, and ugly wended through my veins.
Getting a taste of your own medicine isn’t fun, is it?
“I saidpolitelyandrespectfully, cockbag,” Grant barked, yanking the knife from the chair before slowly oscillating it in Wesley’s face. “You insult her again, I’m gonna start cutting off your fingers. Understood?”
“Yes. Ask your question…Emma,” Wesley snarled, blood dripping from his chin.
Grant stepped behind him and silently placed the knife down, then pulled out his cell phone. After tapping the screen, he nodded to me and placed the device—undetected on the table—behind Wesley’s back.
“You said you were only marrying me because it was part of your plan. What exactly is your plan, Wesley?”
“It doesn’t matter now. You’ve ruined it. You, and that asshole,” he spat, glancing over his shoulder at Grant.
Inwardly reminding myself I was dealing with a complete nut-job, I tried to use it to my advantage.
“Not necessarily,” I lied. “Tell us what it is…maybe we can help.”
“Why would you want to help? I’m going to kill you.”
His confession turned my blood to ice, but I refused to cave.
“Kill me? What good will that do?”
“Not just you, I’m going to kill them all…you, your parents,andmine.”
Behind him, Grant shook his head in disgust.
“Why are you going to kill us all?”
I purposely worded my question as if he was still going to carry out his irrational plan. He wasn’t, but…
“You can’t be that…” Wesley paused and darted a glance back at Grant, then snarled. “For the money! For the power to rule the fucking world!” he roared, before a menacing laugh rolled from his chest.
“You wanna know how I’m gonna do it?” he taunted with an evil grin. Before I could respond, he continued. “Once your face heals up, I’m throwing you a littlewelcome homeparty. Since we can’t risk you running away again, like you did the day of ourwedding. I’m only inviting our parents. A big crowd might make you freak out, since you’re still so mentallyunstable.”
Pot meet kettle.
