Page 51 of Deadly Ruck
She sniffed. "I'm sorry." Her voice wavered like she was about to burst into tears. She looked as though she was. Her reddened eyes glistened.
I knew it wasn't entirely fake. Skinner tried to kill her. That would rattle anyone. It sure as hell rattled me. If we'd taken a couple of moments longer, she would have drowned, or he would have strangled her. We would have lost her. I would have lost her.
That reality sank in with her, maybe before I pulled her from the water, leaving her shaken. I wanted to take her away from this building, wrap her up in a warm blanket and tuck her away from the world.
When this was over, I might do exactly that.
"You have nothing to be sorry about," I told her gently. "Just tell him what happened."
She swallowed hard and nodded. "Okay."
"Tell me what?" King pushed himself back from his desk and walked around it. He stopped in front of us, eyes on Chelsea.
I remembered what Skinner said about King ordering women who look like her. I'd be blind to miss the hint of lust in his gaze. A part of him was enjoying her vulnerability. If Dallas and I weren't here, he'd probably act on it. For him, this was some kind of fantasy scenario.
Sick fucker.
"I went down to the pool to speak to Doctor Skinner," Chelsea said, her voice still shaky. "I was hoping he'd keep training me in aqua therapy. Even though I don't work hereanymore, I still want to learn. Maybe I could, I don't know, start my own therapy business. Or… or something." She shook her head and blinked until tears rolled down her damp cheeks.
"I'm sure you'd do very well at that," King said soothingly. "I understand why you'd like to train more with Otis. He's very good at what he does."
He was very good at being a complete and utter asshole, I agreed silently. The world was better off without him.
"Yeah." Chelsea sniffed. "But when I went down there, I found him lying in the pool. I jumped into trying to save him. But it was—" She let out a very convincing sob. "It was too late. I tried to resuscitating him. The guys did too." She looked from Dallas to me, then back to King before whispering, "He's dead."
Surprise was back on King's face, but it was short lived. He nodded slowly. "That's unfortunate. I'm not sure I believe that's what happened though, Doctor Miller."
She cocked her head at him and sniffed. "I don't understand. What are you saying?"
He crossed his arms. "I'm suggesting maybe it wasn't an accident."
She sighed and stood up straighter, the façade gone.
"Okay, you're right. I went down there to talk to him and he tried to kill me. If it wasn't for these two, I never would have survived. He tried to drown me."
"That's more like it," King said. "Why would he do a thing like that?"
"Because I gave him some bad news," she said evenly. Her voice was clear and confident now. I made a note not to play poker with her. I'd lose my shirt and a whole lot more. Although, I'd willingly give her my shirt and everything else I had. "I told him Carlos Jones is dead."
Once again, King schooled surprise off his face. "How would you know a thing like that?"
"You mean, how do I know when you don't?" she asked.
She actually seemed amused by his question. This woman. If anyone doubted she was a mafia princess before this, they wouldn't now. She stepped into the role like she'd done it all her life. Whatever happened from here on out, she was never looking back.
"Because I killed him."
King pressed his finger to his lower lip. "You're an interesting woman, Doctor Miller. You killed Carlos Jones, then you killed Otis Skinner."
"Oh, I didn't kill Skinner," she said lightly. "That was Dallas. Right in the nick of time too. Word of advice, don't let him hit you with a football boot."
"I wasn't planning to let him do such a thing," King said. "Have you come to kill me too?" For the first time, he looked slightly nervous. He measured us and seemed to be reminding himself at least two of us were big, strong rugby players. And Chelsea, she knew how to kill a man and not leave a mark. Anyone who underestimated her was a fool.
"I don't want to kill you," Chelsea said easily.
"You don't?" he asked carefully. He knew something was going on, but couldn't figure out what it was. Maybe she'd offer him some kind of deal in return for his cooperation. He could become one of the Brantley family lackeys, or something like that.
"No, I don't," she agreed.
