Page 115 of The Art of You

“Let her go.” Callie’s throaty rasp had me trying to twist to look at her, but his hold of me was too strong, and my efforts were wasted. “Don’t touch her.”

“I’ll get to you in a moment, Miss . . . what does your husband like to call you again? Right, right.” He kept hold of me, smiling, while turning his head her way. “Little Miss Tennessee Whiskey.”

“You son of a bitch.” At least her voice was working, unlike mine, and her chair legs made thud-like noises against the concrete as if she were trying to physically hop her way to him.

I was as stuck in place as were the words behind my lips, though. Feeling trapped inside one of the world’s most disturbing paintings. Like a Francisco Goya mural. Not so much afraid right now, but sick to my stomach.

“Now, what was I saying?” He dismissed Callie’s continued pleas to leave me alone and found my eyes again while pulling my hair harder. “I thought I lost you Friday night in that crash, and I felt something I hadn’t in a long time.” He angled his head. “Fear.” A slow smile slipped across his lips. “Because you’re only allowed to die bymyhand.” He narrowed his gaze on my mouth like it was his next target.

I jerked my head back when I realized what he was about to do. He covered my mouth with his in a sloppy, disgusting kiss, and I did the first thing that came to mind as Callie yelled for him to stop.

I sank my teeth into his bottom lip, hoping to draw blood.

He finally let go of my hair and throat to break free from the strong grip my teeth had. With his face hovering only inches from mine, he ran his tongue over his bloody lip, dragging it across his white teeth and following it up with a creepy-as-fuck smile.

And then the fear hit. My body had yet to catch up with my head, because I was still lacking the anxiety-driven chills I’d expected to have.

“They’re going to kill you for that. For all of this.” Callie’s words broke me free of my frozen-in-shock state.

“I’m certainly hoping they’ll try, or I’d be very disappointed,” the asshole said nonchalantly.

I was a second away from finally getting my voice to work when I clamped my teeth shut at the loud sound of a door banging closed and an angry voice echoing through the space. “What the hell is going on? I just saw your last Instagram post.”

Keith dragged his thumb along the line of his lips, catching more blood before standing tall to face off with whoever was there.

I looked over at Callie sitting next to me, only five or so feet away. No tears, just a look of defiance and anger simmering in her eyes. The drugs had to be losing their grip on her, too.

“Green,” Callie mouthed, and I followed her gaze to see Rose’s husband rounding our chairs to confront Keith.

“What in the hell is going on?” Green demanded as Keith went to the tripod. “You said the Instagram account was just to throw them off. That the cameras were to keep an eye on them. That photo you had me deliver, and the explosion . . . all of itwas just to fuck with them and ensure we set them on the path we wanted, and . . .” Green’s voice trailed off and he tore both hands through his hair. “You promised no one innocent would get hurt. So, why are they here in the same factory your brother died, and why in God’s name did you post the location to Instagram? Why are there over twenty armed men here?”

“You forgot to ask about the C4 in the garage. You miss that when you came in?” Keith played the role of psychopath rather well. His voice may have displayed a casual arrogance, but he seemed even more unhinged than his brother—the man Enzo had killedhereapparently.

I hadn’t recognized where we were before because of the drugs, but now it all made sense. Keith brought us back to where, in his mind, it all started.

“No one innocent gets hurt. You promised me.” Green stabbed the air in my direction.

“I didn’t take the pregnant one.” Standing behind the tripod, focused on the screen of the camera as if watching me through the lens, Keith shrugged. “That’s me being a good boy.” He lifted his chin and winked at Green.

Oh, the sick bastard.But that meant . . .Maria’s okay, thank God.

“You never told me you planned to kidnap these women.” Green’s voice cracked. “Do you have the AG tied up here somewhere, too?”

Jesus, was this really happening?

“No, I sent someone to his house to kill him.” Keith stepped around the camera, his hand going to the sidearm strapped to his outer thigh.

“Fuck. This is . . .” Green winced, shaking his head. “I can’t be involved in this. The plan was to use them to kill the terrorists for us. Share the results and consequences of the bad intel with the world that led to Rose dying.” He gripped his hair,pulling at it. “Then, and only then, we’d expose the truth that they killed your brother. But at no point, did we discussmurderingthese women in the name of revenge.”

He was spiraling, and this could be good for us.

Green lifted his chin to the ceiling, breathing hard as his hands went to his hips. “I got you the money. The intel. I did everything you needed. Hid your real identities so deep not even God himself could find the truth until I wanted anyone to.”

“There is no God, or my family would be alive.” Keith shot an angry look at Green while removing his 9mm from the holster. “What’d you really expect me to do once you told me the truth about what you found out about my brother?” He gestured back and forth between me and Callie with his gun. “I read Lorenzo Costa’s statement he gave the CIA. He murdered my brother right here. Payback is a motherfucking bitch, and he’s about to find out the hard way. Everyone dies but him. Living with all that blood on his hands will be a fate much worse than death.”

At his words, I finally managed to speak. “Your brother was a killer. He wasn’t innocent. I know that’s what you think, but he killed innocent people, just not my sister.”

“You’re lying,” Keith snarled. “There was no evidence of that. I’d have known. Green would’ve found out.”

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