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He looks at her as if she’s crazy, and then he glances at me.
I walk next to Quin and gaze up at him with all my love, before turning back to look Jack dead in the eye. Thinking every evil thought I can, I give him a sweet smile.
His heart monitor starts going crazy, and he tears at the electrodes on his chest, trying to rip them off.
“Daddy Jack?” Daisy tries to hold his hand. “What’s wrong? What can you see? What’s helookingat?”
Jack shakes his head. “Nothing.”
The others start to move closer with concerned faces, as they look at the still-beeping machine, Jack, each other.
“I’ll get the doctor back,” Loosh says, rushing out.
Jack’s eyes are still on me, and I can actually see him believing I’ve come back to haunt him. His gaze travels down to the replica bracelet on my ankle that Quin said would really freak him out to see while we stand next to each other — and he was not wrong in his prediction.
Jack starts to wrestle with his sheets, to get out of the bed, but while he was looking at me, Thaddy ejected more ketamine into his IV line, so as soon as Jack finds his feet, he keels over, falling to the ground when everyone steps back instead of reaching out to catch him.
Quin drapes his arm over my shoulder and pulls me in closer under his wing, as he grins at me. “Well, that couldn’t have gone better if I’d planned it alone.”
He lifts me into his arms and thrusts me up against the nearest wall, for a kiss that probably shouldn’t have so many spectators. He slips his hand under my dress, to check on the mess he made of me earlier, pushes his fingers inside me, and curls them until I moan like a smitten little bitch.
He leans back, sucks at his swollen lips, and then devours me with his hungry eyes, as he barks an order at his brothers. “Get him back in bed, for Phase Two,” he says. He pulls his fingers from my pussy and sets me back on the ground, keeping me mostly hidden from the others with his size and giving me a chance to recover.
I grab his hand and take his glistening fingers to my mouth, to suck them clean for him, while his gaze burns hot enough to scorch.
I lick at the mix of his seed and my arousal. “Hurry the fuck up with Phase Two, babe. Or Curty will need to be picked up from his after-school soccer practice before you can fuck me again.” I give him a cheeky smile and tuck his cock away for him, before I step back into position.
27
QUIN
My father stirs, rousing from his brief chemically induced nap. He’ll wake in the same hospital bed as before, only without any bedding, and with décor that’s drabber and more depressing than the lasthospital room, so he’ll believe he’s in a new facility — much like he now believes he has a terminal brain tumor.
It’s a ruse we’ll leave him to believe until he dies.
None of it’s real.
Really, we’ve abducted him and locked him in a box, while neutralizing all the dangerous live wires, snares, and chain reactions he set in place as insurance mechanisms. It was a lot easier to turn his lackeys than we thought. Jack’s not an especially likable guy, and there was a lot of people falling over themselves to help bring him down.
Amazing what can be done with a splash of cash, a few favors here, a mended bridge there, some leverage lifted from other places… Many of his assassins were actually grateful to be relieved from duty.
Once identified, most of Jack’s death threats have only gotten easier to dissolve over the years, as we’ve righted his wrongs and repaired relationships with people he’s harmed, and now that we’re free, the Montgomery boys are in a stronger position than ever, and we’ll move forward as a family we can all be proud of.
All that’s left to do is take out the trash.
It’s only us in Jack’s fake hospital room now — and Kira, who’s standing behind the nearby wall of privacy curtains, so Jack won’t see her until we want him to. The in-our-pocket doctor left a while ago, after playing his part beautifully, but he’s quite adamant Jack’s fit as a fiddle and should live for a good long while.
But it’s time to saygoodbye.
“Wakey-wakey,” I say, slapping Jack’s face a bit too roughly.
He bats my hand away and grumbles, rubbing at his eyes. A frown settles on his face when he tries to move his neck, and I pat him on the arm. “It’s a neck brace,” I inform him. “You hurt yourself when you fell.”
He feels the neck brace for himself and looks around the room. His frown deepens. “Where am I?”
“We’ve moved you to a long-term-care facility.”
“On whose authority?” he demands to know, really waking up now.
