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She shakes her head. “They’re two of the Murphy sons.”
The name registers, her eyes widening. I step forward, crouching in front of her. “If it were up to them, they’d kill you. I’m the one who convinced them to let you rot in a jail cell.” I drag the knife in my hand along her nylon pantyhose. “Maybe I’ll give you the choice, Amelia?”
The tearing of fabric is the only sound in the room as I slice the stockings. “Ian had a choice. He could have watched them kill me. But he stopped them. I wonder what he would say right now if he’d survived and he found out you were the reason I died?”
“He’d thank me for taking out the trash,” she snaps.
“No.” I shake my head. “He’d hate you for taking the mother of his children.”
I dig the knife into the center of her knee. She lets out a pained shriek I ignore. “What will it be? Death or prison?”
“You’ll pay for this,” she says through gritted teeth. “They’ll come after you, and this time they won’t fail. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Sounds like she wants death,” Sean chirps from behind.
“How disappointing,” I sigh. “Willing to die to protect her image. I forgot to tell you. If you die, the truth still comes out.”
I stand with a straight face, feigning indifference despite the nerves bubbling in my gut. “Orange wouldn’t look great on you anyway, Amelia. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure your death is slow and painful.” I snap my fingers. “Sean. She’s all yours.”
Sean approaches, brushing back the hair from his face with a gun in hand. “Thanks, Sam.”
I nod, stepping back.
He peers down at Amelia, who is too scared to move despite not being restrained. I offer him the knife, but he shakes his head. “My type of torture is psychological.”
“Jail,” Amelia blurts. “I’ll turn myself in. I swear. Please, just, don’t hurt me.”
I barely drew blood, but I imagine that Sean’s type of madness is worse than anything I could have done physically to her. Declan rounds the couch and pulls me to his side. He presses a kiss to my cheek, then drops his forehead to my temple. “She doesn’t deserve your mercy.”
My chest tightens. “She doesn’t,” I whisper. “But Ian does.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Myassissoreby the time Sammy comes to a stop in a wooded area of her family’s farm. The horse I’m on is old and slow, just the right temperament for me. But Sammy’s is young and spunky. The entire two-hour ride here we spent playing catch up as she continuously left me in the dust.
“Here it is,” she says, hopping off the chestnut mare.
She grabs the reins and ties it to a tree branch, then heads toward me, doing the same to my horse as I climb out of the saddle.
“Here what is?” I ask, clanging around the cliff. “Where you brought boys to hook up with?”
A dusting of red tints her cheeks as she heads for the dirt path along the peak of the cliff. “We did more than that. We smoked and drank, too.”
“You smoked?” I ask, trailing behind her.
“There’s much you don’t know about me yet.”
She spins around, so she’s walking backward, a grin on her face, and I fucking love how happy she’s been lately. Love the way she’s been showing me this carefree side of her. It makes me want to never leave the farm, and we’ve already been here for an entire week.
We continue up the trail, covered by the thick wooded area, until we reach the top. There’s a clearing, the sun shining in as we look over the edge and down toward more woods. She tugs my hand and drags me down to the ground.
“You want to know what I did?” she asks, crawling into my lap. “With all those country boys.”
Her lips brush against mine in a light touch. I glide a hand up the hem of her shirt, my thumb stroking the warm skin of her hip. “Learned how to deep throat so that when you met me, you’d be able to take the biggest cock you’ve ever had without gagging?”
Her teeth tug at my bottom lip, a soft giggle escaping.
“No,” she whispers. “I never gave head. I was a pillow princess.”
