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She looked to it, then back to him, finally taking a seat. “If you run, I’ll shoot. It’s very simple.” He raised an eyebrow and she nodded.
“Tea or coffee?” he asked and she frowned.
“What?” she asked.
“Or juice?” James asked.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“For you to talk. I told you I wouldn’t hurt you, so for now, you’re considered a guest in this house,” he said.
“A captive guest,” she corrected him.
He shrugged. “Minor detail,” he said with a small smile.
He made himself a coffee as Lachlan pulled up a seat beside her and Deacon sat on the other end of the kitchen bench.
“I’ll have a coffee,” Deacon said.
“Me too,” Lachlan said.
James’s eyes darted toward her. She looked more confused than anything, which was exactly what he wanted. Whatever she’d been brainwashed with, he had to show her an alternative—the truth—before she would start talking.
James had said he wouldn’t hurt her if she played along, and regardless of what she thought, he intended to keep his word.
“I can’t drink with my hands cuffed,” she said, pointedly.
He looked to Deacon and nodded. Deacon removed the cuffs, leaving a seemingly surprised Jenna seated on the stool.
But James wasn’t worried about her running because they’d activated the lockdown of this house the moment the garage door had closed behind them. No one was getting in or out of this house now, not without deactivating the system. And if she tried to break a window, she’d soon discover that every window in this house was bulletproof glass.
“Are you hungry?” James asked.
“No. What I would like to do is leave, so why don’t you ask me what you want so we can get this over with,” she said.
James nodded, turning his attention back to the coffee machine. He took his time, making one for everyone but Jenna.
When James’s barista chores were complete, he pulled a stool around the island bench and sat facing her.
“What is your relation to Widow?” James asked.
She stared at him blankly.
James took a sip of his coffee. “I told you I wouldn’t hurt you, if you cooperated. If you refuse, you’ll find out just how skilled I am with a scalpel. Please don’t make me repeat the question.”
She continued staring at him. He didn’t think she was going to answer him, but eventually she spoke. “Why do you call her Widow?”
“Widow is actually short for Black Widow—that’s the name the CIA have for her because Widow started leaving her web mark on her victims—all men, that we’re aware of. Sometimes she drew it on, sometimes she carved it into the flesh. That fact, combined with the undisputable claim that she’s the deadliest assassin this world has seen in some time, she was given the code name of Black Widow.”
“But you don’t fear her,” Jenna said.
James studied her. “What makes you say that?”
Jenna’s eyes narrowed. “Because you knew she would come for you, and you did it anyway.”
He kept his face impassive. “Did what?” he asked. The conversation was not going in the direction he’d intended, but right now she was talking and he wanted to keep it that way.
She looked at him then shook her head. Her eyes became pools of disgust.
