Page 71 of Queen Of Dark Money

Gattsputtered incoherently as she stepped toward him, confusion and panic written in the lines of his face. “Now, wait just a moment,MissSinclair–”

“Didn’tyou just hear him?I’mnoSinclair, sir.”Shetook a step toward him, the hint of insanity we all kept hidden quickly rising to the surface. “I’mnobody.Certainlynot his daughter.”Sheglanced to his hip, where a pistol would be strapped, if the man was taken to carrying them. “Orare you going to shootme?Notas messy, but still effective.Whenyou send me to the morgue, send the bullet to him, engraved with a bigfuck youfrom me.”

Gattsputtered some more, his face redder than a tomato.Iwasn’t sure if this man was strong enough to regain his composure, soIstood and took her by the arm, leading her over to my own chair, where she sat at my insistent lead.

“Calmyourself, woman,”Iordered, irritated thatIonce again had to take charge in a room full of men. “Nobodyplans to shoot you.”Iglanced back atGatt, who sank down into the last open chair in the room. “Leastof all theguidoover there.”

“Fuckyou,Zantini, you’reItalian, too.”

Ishrugged. “Sicilian.You’reRomanItalian.Bigdifference, mainlander.”

Herolled his eyes and pulled his phone back out, typing furiously. “I’mnot sure whatArthurwants to do with her, but until he gives me an answer, she can’t go anywhere.”

“Thefuck she can’t,” the girl yelped, stepping on my insole in her hurry to cross the room and throttleGattwith her bare hands. “Ican do whateverIwant, and you’re not about to stop me.”

“No, he isn’t, but we will,”Igrabbed her by the bicep, yanking her against me as she struggled in my grip. “Willyou settle the fuck down already?Jesus, you’re more difficult than a damn toddler.”

“Fuckyou, buddy,Idon’t even know you!”Shetwisted more, a strap of her dress sliding down off her shoulder as she struggled against me.Iglanced down her front and spotted a hell of a set of tits there, fighting to escape the confines of herDiordress.

Classy, this one.Shedidn’t even have a bra on.

Icould see her fucking nipples.

Jesus,Icould see her fucking nipples.

Sheused my momentary distraction to her advantage and made a run for it, her heels clacking loudly against the floor as she bolted to the door.Shewas out of it before we could shout at her to stop, and she was so fast that even the security guards didn’t know how to react as she breezed past them and into the hall, heading straight for the front doors.

Weall ran after her, myself in the lead, making a fucking ruckus in our efforts to gain on her, but she was too fast.Likelightning, she was at the door, and she ducked underSeven’sbig arms and slipped out just asIreached her, my outstretched fingers grazing the hem of her skirt as she laughed at me, and disappeared.

Imoved to slip out the door after her, but was stopped cold by the sound of a gun firing, and the screams of a woman who’d just been taunting me moments before.

Someonewas shooting at her.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

KENZIE

Iwas home free, my feet on the sidewalk, and ifIjust kept going,Iwas sureIcould find someone to help me escape these men.Ineeded to get the fuck out of this place, this city, and fast.Letthese fuckers kill each other instead of me.Iwas so done beingEddySinclair’spuppet.

Abullet whizzed by me just asIfelt the fading sun on my skin, andIshrieked, flattening myself against the wall of the patio asIglanced around in the hopes the sniper couldn’t see me anymore.

WasIbeing shot at?

Fuckinghell.

Thatsonofabitch.

Leaveit to my father to take a hit out on me to tie up his loose ends.Notonly had he abandoned me to the dogs, but now there was no doubt he had traced that burner phone and hired someone to eliminate his little problem.

That’swhy he’d done the interview.Thenews appearance guaranteed theKingswould finish me off.Andif they didn’t?Hehad a contingency plan.

AndnowIknew with certainty this had been his goal all along.IfIsurvived, he could ship me off and be done with mefor what amounted to pocket change for him.Butif something happened, like this, for instance, he didn’t have any reservations about ending my life to save his own ass.

Anotherbullet ricocheted off the sidewalk by my feet andIscreamed again, slapping a hand over my mouth in case the gunman planned to use my voice to locate me.

Shit.

“Shit, shit, shit,”Imuttered, tears building in the back of my eyes.Wasthis howIwas going to go out?Plasteredto the side of a building in a city that wasn’t my home, killed by a man hired by my own father?Whatthe fuck had my life turned into?

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