Page 111 of Wicked Duty
The warmth on Marco’s face melts away. He readjusts his posture, and the line of his body changes so completely, he almost becomes a different person. He picks a spot ofnonexistent lint from his sleeve. “You may change your mind when you see this.”
He exudes boredom. Like this entire conversation is beneath him now.
The hair on my arms rises. “See what?”
When Marco shows me his phone, all the air rushes from my lungs.
I’m staring at Heather Kincaid. My friend and fellow model. She sits on the floor with her wrists bound behind her and tears streaming from her terrified eyes. “Is this some kind of sick joke? I don’t understand.”
Marco’s voice drops to a businesslike tone, all pretense of friendly concern evaporating like water on hot pavement. “I will trade you,” he gives me a mirthless smirk, “her for you.”
Alarm roots in my chest while confusion dizzies my head. Only my years in foster care stop me from reacting. I learned early on that tears and dramatics only cause you to look weak.
Despite the anvil sinking deep in my stomach at the sight of Heather’s face, I need to remain as calm as possible. To be strong for her.
Losing my cool won’t do her any favors.
Cotton-mouthed, I set my jaw. “Why are you doing this?”
“Let’s just say that Viktor Roguilin is a very important patron of mine.” He sips his tea with infuriating calmness. “When he makes you an offer, it is nonnegotiable. And he seems to want you very badly.”
My blood freezes to ice cubes in my veins as the pieces finally settle into place.
This was never about the modeling competition. It was never even about my testimony.
The wallet. It’s all about me and the wallet.
The one I no longer possess.
Under the table, I clutch my phone between my sweat-dampened hands. My thumb presses down on the side button, holding for dear life.
Chapter 43
Callum
Darren leaves as quickly as he arrived. I wish I had that luxury. My muscles burn with the desperate urge to track Lucy down.
How did I manage to destroy everything in a matter of hours?
I can only imagine the bullshit swimming in her head about me, about us…most of it wrong.
I need to find her and apologize. If she refuses to listen, as I suspect she will, then I plan to resort to any means necessary to force her to see reason.
“Despite the mess you seem to have created, you succeeded in the mission I assigned you.” Shane pulls a cigar from his breast pocket and lights it. “You’ll be paid accordingly?—”
“I don’t want your fucking money.” The words are damn near a growl.
Shane smirks. “I suppose you think you’re in love with her.”
My tongue thickens in my mouth. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Only love can vanquish greed.” Shane rises from his chair, again gesturing to a member of the security team. He waves at his laptop and the wallet. “Find Rory and have him come collect these. I have other business to attend to.”
Shane leaves with smoke wafting in his wake. The remaining three guards trail after him.
I squeeze my phone, fighting the urge to go ballistic while despair floods my veins. I ruined something amazing with the only woman who ignites a fire in my soul. Meanwhile, Shane Gallagher’s dispensing fortune cookie wisdom.
My worst fear stares me in the face. I spent too much energy on filling my tank with technical competence and tactical excellence while leaving the deeper parts of me on empty. My ability to execute any mission flawlessly doesn’t matter because I’ve forgotten how to care.
