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“Jesus Christ,” I muttered. She’d actually tried to shoot me. The lady had brass balls, I had to give her that.
And then I heard it.
A tiny whimpering sound.
I turned and felt the air get sucked out of the room.
Standing in the hall behind me was a beautiful girl, looking as pale as a ghost. Evangeline. She wasn’t looking at me though. She was looking at her feet.
Timothy’s head was resting inches away from her toes, not unlike an obedient dog, waiting for a treat.
Mother fucker.
“Evangeline.”
I reached out towards her, as if I could stop her from seeing what she was seeing. As if I could stop her from knowing. Knowing about me. Knowing about any of this.
She lifted her gorgeous head and blinked at me. Twice. Total deer in fucking headlights.
Well, fuck.
Guilt kicked in, as did my self protective instincts. As if on cue, my brother arrived.
He didn’t say a word. He just looked at Tiny and the guys who had come to help. And then he looked at me, and the girl, and back at me again.
His eyebrows alone spoke volumes.
“Figure it out,” he said in a low voice before turning towards the woman who was standing there with her arms held behind her back. “Let’s take this downstairs.”
Tiny nodded and headed towards the servants quarters. The kitchens were down there. We even had a room just for butchering meat. It was a good place for wet work.
“Doc is down there. Unless he took off.”
“Did he see?”
I nodded. We both knew he wouldn’t say shit. But we had to know who knew what. Knowledge itself wasn’t power exactly. Understanding who was smart enough or who knew enough to potentially fuck you up was a much better skill.
And Evangeline definitely knew too much. If she was anyone else, the kill order would have been given. But Vince must have seen the look in my eyes when he looked at her.
I was fucking terrified.
And part of me was thrilled.
Because now, I got to keep her. Whether she liked it or not. Now, I had no choice but to keep her.
Keep her or kill her.
There was no in between.
“Come on,” I said gruffly, taking her arm. I’d been protective before but now things were different. Now she belonged to me. I felt total ownership and authority over her.
She let out a squeak as I lifted her up and carried her up the stairs.
“What–,” she started but I just shook my head. The poor girl was in shock. After the last couple of days she’d had, I didn’t blame her.
I carried her through the house to my suite, kicking the door shut behind me. I set her down just long enough to lock the door, using a key this time. I saw her eyes widen as I put the key in my pocket. The message was clear. She was a prisoner. I couldn’t afford to be coy about it. She had to understand, for both of our sakes.
I took her arm again and propelled her into the living room.
“Sit,” I commanded, pointing to the couch. She sat. I poured two whiskeys and threw one back before refilling my cup.
I set a glass down on the waterfall glass coffee table and pushed it towards her.
“Drink.”
It wasn’t an offer. It was a a command.
Chapter 10
Evangeline.
“I don’t want anything, thank you,” I said primly, trying to ignore the fact that the gorgeous man sitting on the couch beside me was a killer.
A murderer.
He’d cut off that man’s head.
Tremors were working their way through my body. My legs would shake, then my arms, then my torso. I was pretty sure that I looked calm, other than the whole constantly vibrating thing.
Not that it mattered how I looked.
“Drink it,” he ordered me. I exhaled and took the glass, taking a small sip. It felt like drinking fire but it instantly warmed me up. I hadn’t even realized I was cold.
He cursed and took a black and navy brocade throw blanket off a chair on the other side of the room, wrapping it around me. I thanked him again and took another sip when he told me to.
“You should have stayed in here,” he growled at me.
I just nodded.
“Who . . . was that woman?”
He stared at me, a muscle ticking in the sharp line of his jaw. The man has cheekbones that could cut glass, I thought randomly. His dark eyes were as hard as diamonds.
“She was the wife of a client. I have . . .” He sighed, running his hand through his hair. It was so normal, so human, that I relaxed a little bit. “We run a few casinos. Underground here and above board in Vegas. The . . . the guy owed us a lot of money.”
“So you cut off his head,” I said flatly.
