Page 122 of Freckles

I do remove my heels, not because of my aching feet, but because they have three inches of stabbing ability, and that’s better than my bare hands any day.

As I pad along behind him, I try to remind myself of every conversation where Kincaid—and even Ezra, Onyx, and Tyson on occasion—have reassured me Lance is a gentle giant. Unfortunately, their stories all have the same qualification…until he’s not.

I try to turn my fear into a joke. “Is this like the ending toGoodfellas, where Lorraine Bracco doesn’t go down the long alleyway to her almost certain death?”

“Well, no. Obviously not.” He grins over his shoulder, then walks backwards for a few steps. “Because you are following me, aren’t you?”

I stop in place. “That wasn’t quite the response I’d hoped.”

He laughs, and the sound does more to ease my worries than anything else. Especially when his menacing expression relaxes into a lazy smile. He reaches for my hand, tugging me forward until I match his pace.

“Hey. Some of us are a few feet shorter than others,” I protest when his long stride requires me to break into a jog.

“Sorry.” His face softens even further with a private smile. “Bella reminds me of that all the time, too.”

Bella is the jewellery salesgirl from the harbour cruise. Despite what I overheard, he doesn’t appear to be growing bored with her. If he still deals in six-month contracts, they’re onto their second or third.

“Ta-da,” he calls, opening a door at the back of the warehouse and throwing it wide. “I was hoping this could be an engagement present, but Kincaid has ignored all of my hints, so it’s just a run-of-the-mill, everyday present.”

My heart crowds into my throat as I peer around the corner, taking a few seconds to decipher what I’m seeing.

A man is tied into a chair, his face colourful with bruises, his lips and eyes grotesquely swollen.

“Say hello, Roderick.”

When he opens his mouth, I flinch from the jagged stumps that were his teeth. “Francesca. Please help me.”

Blood turns to ice in my veins as I recognise his voice. It’s been the better half of a year, but I still remember. He’s the contact turned blackmailer. The one Richard warned me was a bad man.

“Now usually I wouldn’t allow this, but seeing as it’s a present, if you prefer to rescue this man who so casually tried to exploit your vulnerability, that’s up to you.”

Lance reaches inside his leather jacket and produces a flick-knife that he passes to me.

“It’s the button on the side,” he instructs, and I push it, jumping when the long blade shoots out.

“If you want him to go free, cut his bonds, and I won’t stop him escaping. Likewise, if you’d prefer not to kill him yourself, give me the word and I’ll take over.” Lance locks eyes with me, his right eyebrow arching slightly. His irises are just a shade darker than Kincaid’s. “But I thought you deserved the chance to end him yourself since you’re the one he caused so much bother.”

“I didn’t cause anything!” The man cries, chest hitching while blood trickles down his disfigured face like gory tears. “Please. I only ever tried to help you.”

Lance holds up a finger, then finds a discarded wad of cloth on the oil and grime-stained floor, shoving it into the man’s mouth, muffling his screams. “That’s better. You need silence to think.”

But I don’t.

Perhaps if he’d gone through with the job, I wouldn’t hold such a grudge, but the way he took my hard-earned money, then threatened to use my desperate words against me, hardens my heart. The wound of being separated from Kincaid is still fresh.

I switch the knife from hand to hand, staring at the sharp blade. “Is there another way?” I ask and the restrained man’s eyes light with hope.

“Besides setting him free?”

“No. Besides the knife.” I give a rueful smile as Roderick screams into his gag. “The last time I tried to stab someone, it didn’t go very well.”

Lance presses his lips together, looking faintly amused. “I have some plastic bags.”

“Yes. That sounds perfect.”

It also means I don’t have to stare into the man’s eyes. Even with his head wildly whipping from side to side, I manage to pull the two plastic bags into place, grabbing the leftover plastic at the back of his neck, then twisting it to form a seal.

His body bucks wildly but the restraints are good and tight. My hands are never in danger of being knocked free.

---