Page 200 of Deceit

This woman, whom I’ve tackled unapologetically, is Emmy Lou Rhodes.

And I still can’t fucking believe I’m looking at her right now.

“You have a lot of explaining to do,” I declare through clenched teeth as soon as Mills’s door clicks shut behind them. “And I’m so fucking pissed right now.”

“I know.” She takes my hand that’s still stroking the spot that I accidentally hit and pulls it away.

It instantly pisses me off.

It actually makes me snap.

Tearing my hand from hers, mine wraps around her throat as I push her backward until she’s pinned between me and the wall.

I want to crush her until she’s dust.

I crave to hurt her as she did me so much worse than Camilla ever did. The pain I felt from the loss of Emmy will never compare to anything else I’ve ever felt in my life.

I can’t forgive her for this.

Especially when there are so many unexplained answers to questions that I can’t find now except for why—why did she do this to me?

To all of us.

Clenching my free hand, I remember that my Glock is still in my palm and that she never took it.

She gives me too much credit.

She believes that I care so much as to not reap revenge on her in any way I see fit for how I’m feeling.

Lifting it, I nudge the tip of her jaw with the barrel. “How long were you going to make us all suffer, Emmy?”

She locks her pretty gaze with mine, unaffected by my action. “When Alexander was dead.”

“And why do you wanna kill your boyfriend? Did he not make you come enough?”

Her nostrils flare but she opens her mouth anyway. “Because…”

“Because?” I impatiently shove the gun deeper into her flesh. “You’ve never been on this side of me before so do yourself a favor and answer my fucking question.”

“You mean elbowing me in the face wasn’t—“ The hammer of my gun clicking back shuts her the fuck up but she doesn’t see that I don’t have my index finger on the trigger.

No, that’s a little too risky for the game I’m playing right now.

I haven’t passedGoyet.

“Answer. My. Fucking. Question,” I snarl through my extremely tightened jaw.

“That’s my business,” she replies softly. “If I tell you…you’ll take it away from me.”

My brows knit. “Take what away from you?”

“Killing him.”

“Who fucking cares who kills him? He’s a rich prick who tried to havemekilled by his goons.”

“I know…I was there.”

I fuckingknewit.

---