Page 112 of Collateral Claim
Slada picks up his legs. “You mean the doctor you threatened to kill?”
“I changed my mind about her. I like her now,” Connor says.
“Too late.” I groan as I lift Cass into the back of the SUV. He lost weight, but he’s still a big guy and as heavy as the ton of bullets that Cass might want to load Daniel’s chest with when he finds him. I’m done with him. Cass can deal out revenge on his own time.
Once Cass is loaded into the car, I grab his wrist so it doesn’t dangle, and something flashes before my eyes. I pick up his hand. On his pinky finger is Scarlett’s engagement band.
You know what they say about angels?
They deliver.
You know what they don’t say about them?
Bad men shouldn’t chase them.
“Thank you,” I whisper to the big guy in the sky, then I take my brother home.
Chapter 45
I hate Scarlett Pembroke
Endo
When Scarlett Pembroke heard me announce our engagement in front of all the elites of our country, she clutched her pearls. After all, we’d never even met before I showed up to collect her from her father’s birthday party.
She wore a beautiful beige silk gown with pretty sandals. Her toes were painted pale pink, and her chestnut-brown hair was pulled back into a bun so neat and tight, I thought it might give her a headache.
While I held the hand she slipped a princess-cut diamond engagement ring on, Scarlett covered her shock with a well-practiced, polite smile. She wouldn’t let me kiss her on the cheek, and threatened to knee me in the sac.
Given her upbringing, the fact that she was daddy’s good girl, and a medical school graduate who, upon graduation, signed up for volunteer work in the country her deceased mother emigrated from, when I took Scarlett Pembroke as collateral, I predicted she would be a pain in my arse.
I was not wrong.
I hate Scarlett Pembroke.
I hate that I fell in love with her even more.
Chapter 46
The funeral
Scarlett
The weeks after I struck a bargain for Cass Macarley’s release felt like reality punched me in the face and made my nose bleed. Once the dust settled with Endo, my father transferred all his possessions to me and designated Wilfred as my keeper. Which means my father made me wealthy, but Wilfred is taking over that wealth.
Apparently, my dad is done playing small and wants to enter the public arena, where he can do more evil on a greater scale. But the issue is that his money is dirty, and if found out, he could face a lifetime in prison. So he’s severing ties, cleaning house, and giving up all his possessions to his eldest daughter, who people see as a doctor with a charitable reputation.
He is using me. My father is a criminal and a sociopath. Wilfred is the son he never had.
Two decades of my education were paid for with the blood money from wars in foreign lands. My father financed networks that incited wars I never even knew were fought. Meanwhile, Ilived my happy little obedient life, thinking I was doing so much good by donating my time to his friends, who helped finance his endeavors.
As far as I’m concerned, all of today’s attendees can shrivel up and die. I wish I had it in me to tell the pastry chef to poison the wedding cake. But mass murder is best left to my father.
I can’t erase the blood on his hands or the fact that my degree was financed from that money. Everything I own came from that. I’m stained for life. Which is why this beautiful wedding dress Charlotte is fastening at my back is an obsidian mourning dress instead of a pearly white one. It’s beautiful, if somber.
My sister is wearing a matching dress.
“Hey,” she says from behind me, where she’s fixing my corset.
