Page 29 of Tempting Devil
“I actually do have one more question, if you can spare another minute of your time.”
“Certainly.” Brian flashed a smile. “Anything to make the decision easier.”
In one swift move, I removed the trocar from its hiding spot and plunged it into his stomach.
“How much did you make when you sold me?” I growled, my eyes flaming with fury.
He parted his lips, confusion and panic overtaking his expression. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he stammered in a strained voice.
“Then let me refresh your memory.” I leaned closer, relishing the fear in his eyes. “Five years ago, you were hired to clean a crime scene. When you arrived, the victim was still alive, so you conspired with a certain soon-to-be United States Senator to make a bit of money. Instead of finishing the job, you brought the victim back here, patched him up, then sold him.” My jaw clenched. “Sold me.”
Recognition flashed in his eyes, his complexion paling even more as he struggled to free himself from my hold. But he was no match for me. After all, I’d spent four years fighting for my life on a regular basis, thanks to him.
I could easily overpower him without even breaking a sweat.
“They said you died. That’s why I stopped getting?—”
“Getting what?” I roared, twisting the trocar around in his stomach.
A piercing wail ripped through the room as more blood stained his white suit shirt. “A cut,” he shouted, his face scrunched up in agony.
I paused my motions. “A cut?”
“It was part of the deal. A finder’s fee, so to speak. Any time you won, I got a share of the proceeds. But they told me you died over a year ago.”
“They lied,” I sneered, removing the trocar from his stomach, his eyes widening in terror in the seconds before I plunged it directly through his heart.
Years ago, this sort of thing would have sickened me.
That was before I became desensitized to death and torture. Before I had no choice but to live and breathe it every second of every day.
Now I was able to look into the eyes of the man who put me in that hellhole as he struggled for every last gasp of breath until blood sputtered from his mouth and his body went limp.
Chapter Twelve
Imogene
“Now that you’ve had some rest and it’s just us girls,” Mom began, twisting her body toward me as we sat at the counter of a trendy bar in Buckhead. “How are things with Gideon?”
The sound of glasses clinking and low chatter filled the air, but since it was a Sunday night, it wasn’t too crowded.
“They’re good,” I lied.
Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Is that really the answer you intend to go with, or do you want to take a minute and formulate a different response?”
“What do you mean?” I shifted uncomfortably on my barstool, avoiding her gaze as I took a sip of my old fashioned, savoring in the sharp burn of the bourbon as it warmed my insides.
“As much as I’d love to think this impromptu trip is simply because you miss your mother, I have a feeling something else prompted it. Especially since you’ve been…off.”
“Off? Off how?”
“Don’t forget I carried you inside me for nine months. Raised you to be the amazing woman you are. I know when you’re not being completely honest. Not to mention, I’ve noticed you wince anytime Lachlan mentioned Gideon today. He may not have picked up on it. Or maybe he did and didn’t want to say anything. But I’m your mother. I earned the right to call you out on your bullshit after enduring thirty hours of labor.”
This was one of the main reasons I wanted to come out here. Not just to get away from California and everything going on, but so my mother could help me figure out which way was up. Sure, I could have talked to Melanie. But I needed someone who could look at the situation with fresh eyes. Who understood me the way only a mother could.
“You’re right,” I admitted with a deep exhale.
“I know.” She gave me a playful wink as she took a sip from her champagne. Then she angled toward me, uncrossing and recrossing her legs.