Page 89 of A Fine Line

Part of me wants to watch and wait and leave a pile of bodies in my wake, but I’ve learned from experience if you find a way out, you take it and then come back later for the kill.

I take a step toward the door, preparing to make a break for it when shadows cross in front of it, and I stop, pressing myself back against the wall. I make out what sounds like mostly chitchat, as no one appears alarmed, and then a woman laughs, and a chill goes down my spine.

There’s no fucking way.

I pull away from the wall, knowing it’s a mistake, but I can’t stop myself. I have to see with my own eyes, witness this treachery for myself, so that I’ll truly accept it for what it is.

A group of people walk in and make their way into the middle of the room where a desk has been set up. At first, all I see is the men, but then one of the men laughs, and they all laugh, and I hear her laugh again.

I take another step forward, and then I see her.

At first, all I feel is relief that she’s alive.

Then confusion. Anger. Understanding.

Then that weight that I haven’t felt on my chest for so long is back, crushing the life from me.

Anguish.

I watch her speaking to the group of men animatedly, familiarly, and my guts twist painfully. Then I hear her say excitedly, “Victor? No way, that’s crazy!” and the man says something I can’t quite make out, but she replies clearly, “I wish he had told me all of that years ago. Would’ve saved us all a lot of fucking trouble.”

And I give up any semblance of hiding and step right out into the middle of the room and say, “Are you fucking serious right now?”

The whole group freeze, and her eyes fly to mine, wide with shock. Her mouth snaps shut, and then she raises her chin and says, “I thought you said that fucker was in chains.”

My eyes widen, my jaw goes slack, and I shake my head as the meaning behind her words sink in. “So, it was all a lie then? Everything you said was a lie?”

I’m quickly surrounded by men, ending up in the same position I was when I first came out of the box, and I don’t fucking care.

My eyes never leave Carolina’s face as she steps closer, stopping when she’s a few feet from me, and she tilts her head to look up at me and asks, “Don’t you read what they say about me in the gossip rags, Tony?”

“What?” I ask helplessly.

She smiles that delicious smile that I yearn for and coldly replies, “I’m a hell of a fucking actress.”

My stomach drops, and I grind my teeth together as I use that split second of surprise to my advantage and lurch for her, managing to grip her throat in my hand and yank her to me as I squeeze.

Her eyes light up in surprise and a little glimmer of what looks to be relief, as I manage to grind out between my teeth, “And I just loved you.”

Then the swarm takes me down, and it’s lights out.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Carolina

TheypullTonyoffof me, and I bend over, choking and coughing at his decent attempt at crushing my throat.

The group of men are actively working on incapacitating him, though he already appears incapacitated, and a familiar voice behind me pipes up, telling them that’s enough.

The men move away, leaving Tony collapsed on the floor, knocked-out cold, and I groan in frustration, my hands massaging my throat as I straighten and turn to see with my own eyes the man standing behind me.

I blink a few times, my memory zapping at seeing this face after so long, and I frown as the past and present collide.

Thinking back, I always knew, deep down, that the one nice bodyguard didn’t make sense in the grand scheme of things. And seeing him here now only proves my theory that no good deed comes without conditions.

I squash down my initial knee-jerk reaction to tell him exactly what I think about his two-faced bullshit, and instead, paste a tentative smile on my face as I say, “Victor. What a surprise.”

He turns his dark eyes on me, skimming me from head to toe and back up again before finally meeting my eyes and replying, “Carolina. Looking delectable as always.”

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