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“That’s none of your business.”
“Yes, it is. We’re talking about my future wife.”
“But you’re with Natalia,” I said.
He shrugged. “So? Manon knows I have certain appetites.”
My stomach curled. The man was fucking sick.
“Manon can fuck whoever she likes, only no starry-eyed boyfriends.” He sat back with his hands crossed over his belly. “My plans haven’t changed. And I will not let some lovesick nobody tell me otherwise. Now, best you leave and not come back. Yes?”
He slanted his evil head, and hell, I wanted to wipe that sneer from his mouth. If the devil had a face, it would look like Reynard Crisp.
And I was about to provoke Satan himself.
“I saw what happened here at the back, early Sunday morning, around 2:30 a.m. to be exact. I filmed it all.” I paused, but he remained silent. “Gun shots. The van. An SUV driving off, stuffed with bags that I’m sure weren’t heading for charity shops.”
“How do you know it had anything to do with me?”
“Because the slain men worked for you. I’ll send it to you. I’ve got other copies.”
“You’ve shown Caroline?” he asked, remaining neutral.
“No one else knows, and it will all go away if you leave Manon alone.”
His chuckle was more like fingernails scraping a board. “And there’s the clincher. You’re blackmailing me.” He sniffed. “You wouldn’t be the first. And I’m sure you won’t be the last.”
“Well?”
He nodded slowly. “Okay. Send me the tape, and I’ll give you my answer.”
I pulled out my phone and sent it to his number.
When his phone vibrated, he picked it up and clicked on the link. His face remained blank as he watched the footage.
“How do I know you’ll keep your word?” he asked, putting his phone down.
“I just will.”
“She’s that important to you that you’ll risk your life for her?”
“I’m not risking anything here, just a job that pays well.” I went to walk away. “Will you put a stop to this marriage plan?”
His mouth twisted like he was mulling over my demands. After a longish pause—because, I sensed, men like Crisp hated to lose—he nodded. “Can’t impede on young love now, can I?”
I left in a hurry, watching my back.
For good reason, I soon discovered.
It had been easy.
Too easy.
First a shadow, then footsteps, and before I could bolt, Goran had me in a hold. I kicked the gun out of his hand and pummelled into him like he was the punching bag at Reboot.
Just as he fell to the ground, in my periphery, I sensed another figure—probably Goran’s bearlike brother, Alec.
A shot rang, which barely missed me.
