Page 110 of Stutter

It was smart, brilliant even – better than something I would’ve thought of, not just simply slipping Simon something, but to make sure it was slow and painful, barely enough to cause a tickle in the throat before he could even think it was an allergic reaction. Seeing him turn red in the face made me want to giggle like a child.

But I can’t giggle right now. Not with Prescott’s death glare on me.

“You’re the last person alive that was there. None of this is a coincidence.”

I don’t respond. Everyone knows that’s true. Not that I was the last person that was signing my name to the ledger and had to stop after writing my first initial into the fucking book made of one of the first founding fathers of the Syndicate because they found her right as I started writing my name.

I’d never seen my father so disappointed in me.

Even now the mere memory of the look on his face makes me sick to my stomach.

“Get her to me quickly. I’m getting bored. I have a Watcher on her already. If you don’t get her to me in time, he will.”

“Who’s the Watcher?” I ask, taking a sip of my strawberry-infused wine.

“My half-breed.”

Shit.

“I haven’t seen him around.”

“He’s good at what he does.” He reminds me.

“You pulled him from the city just to follow her around?”

He looks at me as if I’m the dumbest motherfucker on the planet. “Surely you’re not that stupid.” He says dryly.

I’m not. If he’s having her watched, he knows it’s not just Jonas. Which is dangerous. One wrong look toward his future wife and Jonas goes crazy. I can’t imagine what a former FBI agent with a killer aim who still has access to a gun will do. Yeah. I broke into his place, too. Four guns hidden in easy-to-get places. All are registered in his name. Not to mention Damon. I mean the way he took care of the senior Whitmore was smooth as fuck.

Easy to say these fuckers don’t play. Especially when it comes to their woman.

Could have been my woman.

But that’s why I’m doing this.

To prove myself.

She’ll see.

That’s why killing Riordan had been so fucking easy.

Told him it was the best place to deliver a shot if he had a scope.

To even think he could get rid of Raven when he was already strung out on his prescriptions, popping Xanax and Bupropion like it was an immediate-release tablet. Insane.

I mean, he had every right, and all his ire was directed at the right person… but going after her, burning down her house with her still inside… her death would have brought more do-gooder cops sniffing around.

Couldn’t have that.

So maybe I lied to him a little.

Maybe I made sure he was a tiny bit closer to death by the time the rope snapped.

I shrug my shoulders at Stephen, tilting my head back a bit.

“Get me the girl. If I have to find other means of getting her, you won’t like the outcome.” He says with a smile, waving at someone who’s gotten his attention.

And so I’m left standing in the corner by the large Christmas tree that has fake, empty boxes beneath it, that’ll be thrown out come January.

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