Page 68 of Payback

I narrowed my eyes and placed my hands on my hips. “That sounds like drinking Armagnac off my body.”

“Out of her belly button?” Henry threw on a rugby shirt and jeans.

“I can think of better places.” Blake pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. He threaded his fingers through his hair and somehow managed to style it.

Chuckling, Edward slipped on a pair of boxers and walked across the room. He wrapped his arms around my middle and pressed a kiss on the juncture of my neck and shoulder. “Did that help?”

I closed my eyes and sighed. “Until I climaxed, but the nerves are creeping back.” Twisting in his arms, I rested my head on his shoulder and inhaled his cypress and cedar scent.

“It’s understandable.” He hugged tighter. “But Rudolph can’t legally take you away without the consent of your mother.”

“But illegally…” said Blake.

“We won’t let you out of our sight.” Henry embraced me from behind and kissed the crown of my head. “We can spend summer in one of the villas. There’s one near Valencia in case you want to practice your Spanish.”

“Or we can spend the summer in Largs Castle.” Blake reached between them and ruffled my hair. “It’s my stepfather’s private residence.”

“That might be an option,” said Edward. “We can take a car and drive up to Scotland. Pay for petrol with cash, in case Rudolph decides to trace our cards, and stay there until term starts.”

Unease settled in my stomach. Hiding from Rudolph wasn’t the answer. “He knows where my brother and sister live. I’m sure he’ll do something to them if I disappear.”

Everyone’s shoulders sagged. Edward groaned. “Apart from murdering him ourselves, what can we do?”

Henry’s nostrils flared. “He’s a fragile, old man. One punch, and—”

“It’s manslaughter,” said Blake. “There’s an article on one-punch killings on the BBC website.”

“Even if you don’t kill him, he has the power to ruin you.” I wrapped my arms around my middle. “Maybe we can visit Philippe in prison and see if he’s willing to testify against Rudolph.”

Edward sighed. “It’s worth a try, but I fear that Rudolph already has a contingency plan to deal with those who know his deepest secrets. Something more binding than a non-disclosure agreement.”

Blake shouldered on a blazer. “What about Charlotte’s honey—”

My eardrums reverberated with the boom of a gunshot.

Chunks of wood splintered from the door. Before I knew it, Henry yanked me down and threw himself over my body. Ice flooded my veins. This had to be one of Rudolph’s guards, come to drag me to that asylum in Moldova.

I raised my head and found Mr. Carbuncle storming toward us with a sawed-off shotgun, his bloodshot eyes boring into mine. Terror seized my heart in its crushing grip. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t scream, couldn’t tell Henry to run. By the time I forced in a breath, the caretaker slammed the butt of his gun on Henry’s head. His entire body went limp, and he crushed me under his weight.

A scream ripped from my throat, and I placed my hands on Henry’s shoulders, trying to get out from under him. My blazer lay a few feet away. If I could reach it and the pepper spray, it might buy some time for campus security to arrive—or the police.

With an almighty kick, Mr. Carbuncle shoved Henry aside, grabbed my wrist, and yanked me to my feet. Blake rushed at him, but the man pushed him hard into the wall.

“Stop,” I cried.

“Carbuncle.” Edward pointed something at the man. I couldn’t see what, but he said, “Let go of—”

Mr. Carbuncle aimed his gun at Edward and fired.

Cold shock hit me in the gut. My legs gave way, and I fell to my knees. He had shot Edward in retaliation for Edward shooting him.

Mr. Carbuncle picked me up and threw me over his shoulder. He ran down the stairs like a rampaging bull, shoving screaming students aside. Each movement aggravated the remnants of the wounds he had given me a month ago, and nauseating contractions seized my stomach. I emptied its contents over the man’s broad back, but he didn’t flinch, didn’t falter.

He reached the downstairs hallway and raced through the entrance hall.

“I will not condone this behavior in Elder House,” cried the voice of Mr. Jenkins. “Stop, before I call campus security!”

Bitter loathing rippled through my insides, and dregs of puke spilled from my lips. Mr. Carbuncle was long past reasoning. He had shot Edward. Mr. Jenkins needed to call for a police swat team, not threaten him with a group of underworked security staff.