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“You’re going to the Treehouse?” Eli asked as his men hopped out and opened the security gate they’d closed just yesterday.
“Yes.”
“What’s your plan?”
Montgomery thought for a moment about how he should approach the Treehouse, wondering if Claire had any advice that would allow him to creep up unnoticed. She knew the property better than anybody standing in the tunnel.
He looked at Eli as his men climbed back into the golf cart. The thought of Hartley up in the Treehouse with Karol, bound and at risk on the partially rebuilt structure, pushed all his strategic thoughts aside. “My plan? To kill the fucker.”
CHAPTER30
Hartley couldn’t comprehend what she was seeing. She glanced at the monster beside her, crouched and mumbling like a deranged creature. The planks of the platform under her trembled, and she looked back at where the monster stared.
A cloud boiled above the trees, lit at the bottom by an orange glow. A rumble made its way into her consciousness, swelling to a deafening roar that shook the Treehouse, seemingly from within. The air thickened, smelling like chalk and dirt, and a hint of smoke threaded through it all, sparking worry.
“Say bye-bye to your fairytale castle, princess.” Jackal giggled, his voice sickeningly sweet. “And your husband.”
Her blossoming fear muddled his words. What fairytale? The castle meant nothing to her. It was at best a revenue-generating structure, and actually more like a little-used building that Cavendish had to pay taxes on. But then the second part of his comment hit her like a truck.
“Monty,” she whispered, her voice choked with pain.
“Oh, yes, poor Monty,” Jackal sneered. “If my cocktail of explosives hasn’t turned him to ash, he’ll be buried under all that wonderful, heavy stone.”
Her chest collapsed, like crystal shattering under heavy pressure.
Monty...
She remembered his eyes, looking into hers in the dim glow of his flashlight. Her mind raced with all the unspoken words, unsaid apologies. Emotions swirled in an ever-tightening circle, pulling her in, threatening to drown her.
“No,” she moaned to the sky, refusing to believe what the monster was telling her. Monty could have gotten out in time. He was strong and smart.
And so was she.
She needed to buy time. She searched for what she could say, something that would delay him tapping the tablet and blowing up another building. She had to keep him from blowing up Topkapi, where Claire was. To give Monty time to get to her. Because above everything, she knew he would do that or die trying.
Then the creature giggled, his face a mask of glee as he looked down at her.
She didn’t think. Driven by pure emotion, she kicked her bound legs forward, aiming for his ankles. She connected, and he teetered, surprise replacing his look of glee. She recoiled for another attack, but his hand snaked out and covered her face, pressing it against the rough wood of the floor.
“Thatwas a waste of effort,” he crooned, his expression twisting in contempt. “Did you love your husband? Will you miss him?”
With one more shove against her face, he stood. Then his boot connected with her thigh in a burst of flaming pain. Another kick struck her stomach, leaving her gasping for breath as everything around her turned red.
When the world came back to its normal range of colors, he gripped her hair and yanked her head up. He shoved the tablet in front of her, leaning close to breathe his sour words all over her face.
“See what’s next?” he asked, giving her head a shake.
She focused on the screen, the names of the properties sliding in and out of focus. The one labeled English Manor had a flashing red circle around it.
“That’s where Karol met his bitch for the first time,” he noted.
His hand released her suddenly, and she just caught herself before her head smacked the floor. He sank to kneeling beside her, his eyes distant. The tablet rested on his thigh, only loosely held now.
She watched his face roil in a contortion of expressions. Confused and melancholy, then rage-filled, then lost, then hideous—on and on, undulating between emotions.
He’d sat close enough to her legs that part of her sweatpants fabric was under his knee. She would have to be fast to pull herself free and kick him in the head before he could react. Fast and accurate, and God help her if her core let her down.
“You’re plotting,” he said, causing her eyes to flash back to his. He was Jackal now, but Karol couldn’t be buried too deeply.
