Page 122
Story: Freckles
I do remove my heels, not because of my aching feet, but because they have three inches of stabbing ability, and that’s better than my bare hands any day.
As I pad along behind him, I try to remind myself of every conversation where Kincaid—and even Ezra, Onyx, and Tyson on occasion—have reassured me Lance is a gentle giant. Unfortunately, their stories all have the same qualification…until he’s not.
I try to turn my fear into a joke. “Is this like the ending toGoodfellas, where Lorraine Bracco doesn’t go down the long alleyway to her almost certain death?”
“Well, no. Obviously not.” He grins over his shoulder, then walks backwards for a few steps. “Because you are following me, aren’t you?”
I stop in place. “That wasn’t quite the response I’d hoped.”
He laughs, and the sound does more to ease my worries than anything else. Especially when his menacing expression relaxes into a lazy smile. He reaches for my hand, tugging me forward until I match his pace.
“Hey. Some of us are a few feet shorter than others,” I protest when his long stride requires me to break into a jog.
“Sorry.” His face softens even further with a private smile. “Bella reminds me of that all the time, too.”
Bella is the jewellery salesgirl from the harbour cruise. Despite what I overheard, he doesn’t appear to be growing bored with her. If he still deals in six-month contracts, they’re onto their second or third.
“Ta-da,” he calls, opening a door at the back of the warehouse and throwing it wide. “I was hoping this could be an engagement present, but Kincaid has ignored all of my hints, so it’s just a run-of-the-mill, everyday present.”
My heart crowds into my throat as I peer around the corner, taking a few seconds to decipher what I’m seeing.
A man is tied into a chair, his face colourful with bruises, his lips and eyes grotesquely swollen.
“Say hello, Roderick.”
When he opens his mouth, I flinch from the jagged stumps that were his teeth. “Francesca. Please help me.”
Blood turns to ice in my veins as I recognise his voice. It’s been the better half of a year, but I still remember. He’s the contact turned blackmailer. The one Richard warned me was a bad man.
“Now usually I wouldn’t allow this, but seeing as it’s a present, if you prefer to rescue this man who so casually tried to exploit your vulnerability, that’s up to you.”
Lance reaches inside his leather jacket and produces a flick-knife that he passes to me.
“It’s the button on the side,” he instructs, and I push it, jumping when the long blade shoots out.
“If you want him to go free, cut his bonds, and I won’t stop him escaping. Likewise, if you’d prefer not to kill him yourself, give me the word and I’ll take over.” Lance locks eyes with me, his right eyebrow arching slightly. His irises are just a shade darker than Kincaid’s. “But I thought you deserved the chance to end him yourself since you’re the one he caused so much bother.”
“I didn’t cause anything!” The man cries, chest hitching while blood trickles down his disfigured face like gory tears. “Please. I only ever tried to help you.”
Lance holds up a finger, then finds a discarded wad of cloth on the oil and grime-stained floor, shoving it into the man’s mouth, muffling his screams. “That’s better. You need silence to think.”
But I don’t.
Perhaps if he’d gone through with the job, I wouldn’t hold such a grudge, but the way he took my hard-earned money, then threatened to use my desperate words against me, hardens my heart. The wound of being separated from Kincaid is still fresh.
I switch the knife from hand to hand, staring at the sharp blade. “Is there another way?” I ask and the restrained man’s eyes light with hope.
“Besides setting him free?”
“No. Besides the knife.” I give a rueful smile as Roderick screams into his gag. “The last time I tried to stab someone, it didn’t go very well.”
Lance presses his lips together, looking faintly amused. “I have some plastic bags.”
“Yes. That sounds perfect.”
It also means I don’t have to stare into the man’s eyes. Even with his head wildly whipping from side to side, I manage to pull the two plastic bags into place, grabbing the leftover plastic at the back of his neck, then twisting it to form a seal.
His body bucks wildly but the restraints are good and tight. My hands are never in danger of being knocked free.
As I pad along behind him, I try to remind myself of every conversation where Kincaid—and even Ezra, Onyx, and Tyson on occasion—have reassured me Lance is a gentle giant. Unfortunately, their stories all have the same qualification…until he’s not.
I try to turn my fear into a joke. “Is this like the ending toGoodfellas, where Lorraine Bracco doesn’t go down the long alleyway to her almost certain death?”
“Well, no. Obviously not.” He grins over his shoulder, then walks backwards for a few steps. “Because you are following me, aren’t you?”
I stop in place. “That wasn’t quite the response I’d hoped.”
He laughs, and the sound does more to ease my worries than anything else. Especially when his menacing expression relaxes into a lazy smile. He reaches for my hand, tugging me forward until I match his pace.
“Hey. Some of us are a few feet shorter than others,” I protest when his long stride requires me to break into a jog.
“Sorry.” His face softens even further with a private smile. “Bella reminds me of that all the time, too.”
Bella is the jewellery salesgirl from the harbour cruise. Despite what I overheard, he doesn’t appear to be growing bored with her. If he still deals in six-month contracts, they’re onto their second or third.
“Ta-da,” he calls, opening a door at the back of the warehouse and throwing it wide. “I was hoping this could be an engagement present, but Kincaid has ignored all of my hints, so it’s just a run-of-the-mill, everyday present.”
My heart crowds into my throat as I peer around the corner, taking a few seconds to decipher what I’m seeing.
A man is tied into a chair, his face colourful with bruises, his lips and eyes grotesquely swollen.
“Say hello, Roderick.”
When he opens his mouth, I flinch from the jagged stumps that were his teeth. “Francesca. Please help me.”
Blood turns to ice in my veins as I recognise his voice. It’s been the better half of a year, but I still remember. He’s the contact turned blackmailer. The one Richard warned me was a bad man.
“Now usually I wouldn’t allow this, but seeing as it’s a present, if you prefer to rescue this man who so casually tried to exploit your vulnerability, that’s up to you.”
Lance reaches inside his leather jacket and produces a flick-knife that he passes to me.
“It’s the button on the side,” he instructs, and I push it, jumping when the long blade shoots out.
“If you want him to go free, cut his bonds, and I won’t stop him escaping. Likewise, if you’d prefer not to kill him yourself, give me the word and I’ll take over.” Lance locks eyes with me, his right eyebrow arching slightly. His irises are just a shade darker than Kincaid’s. “But I thought you deserved the chance to end him yourself since you’re the one he caused so much bother.”
“I didn’t cause anything!” The man cries, chest hitching while blood trickles down his disfigured face like gory tears. “Please. I only ever tried to help you.”
Lance holds up a finger, then finds a discarded wad of cloth on the oil and grime-stained floor, shoving it into the man’s mouth, muffling his screams. “That’s better. You need silence to think.”
But I don’t.
Perhaps if he’d gone through with the job, I wouldn’t hold such a grudge, but the way he took my hard-earned money, then threatened to use my desperate words against me, hardens my heart. The wound of being separated from Kincaid is still fresh.
I switch the knife from hand to hand, staring at the sharp blade. “Is there another way?” I ask and the restrained man’s eyes light with hope.
“Besides setting him free?”
“No. Besides the knife.” I give a rueful smile as Roderick screams into his gag. “The last time I tried to stab someone, it didn’t go very well.”
Lance presses his lips together, looking faintly amused. “I have some plastic bags.”
“Yes. That sounds perfect.”
It also means I don’t have to stare into the man’s eyes. Even with his head wildly whipping from side to side, I manage to pull the two plastic bags into place, grabbing the leftover plastic at the back of his neck, then twisting it to form a seal.
His body bucks wildly but the restraints are good and tight. My hands are never in danger of being knocked free.
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 49
- Page 50
- Page 51
- Page 52
- Page 53
- Page 54
- Page 55
- Page 56
- Page 57
- Page 58
- Page 59
- Page 60
- Page 61
- Page 62
- Page 63
- Page 64
- Page 65
- Page 66
- Page 67
- Page 68
- Page 69
- Page 70
- Page 71
- Page 72
- Page 73
- Page 74
- Page 75
- Page 76
- Page 77
- Page 78
- Page 79
- Page 80
- Page 81
- Page 82
- Page 83
- Page 84
- Page 85
- Page 86
- Page 87
- Page 88
- Page 89
- Page 90
- Page 91
- Page 92
- Page 93
- Page 94
- Page 95
- Page 96
- Page 97
- Page 98
- Page 99
- Page 100
- Page 101
- Page 102
- Page 103
- Page 104
- Page 105
- Page 106
- Page 107
- Page 108
- Page 109
- Page 110
- Page 111
- Page 112
- Page 113
- Page 114
- Page 115
- Page 116
- Page 117
- Page 118
- Page 119
- Page 120
- Page 121
- Page 122
- Page 123
- Page 124