Page 76 of Pure Vengeance

“We’ll meet in two hours at your house,” George snapped. “No guards, and if I see the dog that killed Steve, your sister is dead.”

The call dropped and I blinked to hold back tears of fury. Once I had myself under control, I looked up at my wife. “God, Natasha. I hope to fuck you know what you’re doing.”

Ignoring me, she tapped her phone screen and held it to her ear. “Hey, Teresa. I need a huge favor. Can you come get Dante and Angel? I have a slight emergency, but I’ll pick them up in the morning.”

Her eyes twinkled as she listened to the reply. “Thanks. It’s nothing serious. I just don’t want to leave them alone. I’ll give you some of that lemon cannelloni I made too. See you soon.”

Nonplussed by her cheerfulness, I followed her into the kitchen and waited while she pulled a large aluminum baking tray from the freezer and placed it in a canvas shopping bag.

Dr. Mendez didn’t waste any time, and soon had Dante and Angel loaded into her truck. Giving us a wave, she drove away.

“Okay. That takes care of that.” Natasha strode back inside and to her bedroom, then pulled a large duffel bag from her closet.

“What are you doing?” I resisted the urge to shake her and ask what the fuck she was thinking.

“Plotting mayhem.” She unzipped the bag and I gasped at the sight of its contents.

“Holy shit.”

Smiling faintly, she pulled a sawed-off shotgun from her bag, along with several throwing knives, boxes of ammunition, and two semiautomatic pistols. After handing me one of the pistols and a box of ammo, she said, “Hope your homeowner’s insurance is paid up.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Natasha

“Go ahead. Ask.” I loaded the shotgun and set it to the side, then slid the knives into their sheath.

“Ask what?”

“Don’t you want to know why I have a Sarah O’Connor stash of weapons and money?”

“I’m sure you had your reasons, but I am curious about the C4.”

“It was on sale.”

“My sister looks for Kate Spade and Chanel,” he murmured. “My wife looks for military-grade explosives. It’s sexy.”

I rolled my eyes but didn’t reply.

He cleared his throat and took a drink from his plain black coffee. “Sorry. Do you have a plan?”

“Yes.”

When I didn’t elaborate, he sighed heavily. “Natasha, you asked me to give you my trust, and I did, even though I would rather die than give you up to George and his friends.”

“Keep that thought. I’m planning to use you as a meat shield.” I smirked, then added, “Those divorce papers haven’tbeen filed, and as your wife, I’d inherit everything if I let you and Saoirse die.”

I wished I believed my lies. Even after everything he’d done, I couldn’t let Lachlan lose his sister, and I didn’t want to lose him either.

“Would you stop?” he snapped. “For fuck’s sake, woman. Forget how much you hate me and tell me what’s going through that crazy fucking head of yours because I am losing my shit here. My sister?—”

“He won’t get to keep either of us,” I interrupted, keeping my voice calm. “See, I’m fucking tired of assholes who think it’s okay to hurt innocent people because someone they’re related to pissed them off. I’m stopping it. Now.”

To his credit, his cheeks turned ruddy, and he didn’t meet my eyes for several seconds. “And now I understand the mini urban-warfare kit.”

“Yeah. I’m not letting anyone hurt me again, and I promise to keep Saoirse safe too.”

“How are you going to stop them?” He spun and looked out the window, his tense shoulders stretching the seams of his shirt. “We can’t just shoot them. We might hit Saoirse.”

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