Page 77 of Sweet Revenge
“Or what?” Peter leaned close to Evie, inhaling the scent of her hair. “This doesn’t concern you, but I suppose you can stay. Hands where I can see them. That’s it,” he added when Declan held his hands up, palms out. “Now where were we?”
“We were talking about how you’re delusional.”
Peter tightened his grip on her throat, squeezing until she sputtered. “I said stay back!” he screamed, pressing the gun to Evie’s temple when Declan took another step into the room. “You move again, and she fucking dies. Which would really disappoint me because I want to take my time with her.”
“Declan.” Evie coughed, her fingers clawing at Peter’s hand. “I’m okay.”
“See?” Peter’s laugh was tinged with madness. “She’s fine!” He loosened his grip on her throat but didn’t remove his hand.
“I would have found you a lot faster if Kiah hadn’t stiffed me.”
“Kiah?”
“I paid her to find you, and she took my money and ran.”
“So you punished her.”
“Of course. I couldn’t let her get away with that. She was much easier to find than you have been, though. She couldn’t stay away from that hick brother of hers and his horse-faced wife.”
“So you killed them too? As punishment?”
He shrugged. “Enough about them. Let’s talk about us.”
“There is no us.”
He leaned down to trace his tongue over her earlobe, and she shuddered. “Of course there is, my dear. We have a history. I’ve spent so much money looking for you. Not that it matters,” he continued. “My Anna was worth everything to me. There’s no amount of money I wouldn’t have spent to make you pay.”
“I didn’t kill your wife,” Evie rasped. “The other driver did.”
“Well, he’s dead, now isn’t he? Can’t kill a dead guy. But you, you’re right here. Living, breathing.” Peter’s gaze slid to Declan. “Fucking. Maybe killing you isn’t enough. Maybe you should watch your lover die first.” He raised his arm, leveling the gun at Declan’s chest.
“No! No, you don’t have to do this.”
“I mean, I know I don’thaveto.” Peter chuckled. “But it might be fun for me! Tell me, do you love him?”
“What?”
“It’s a simple question. Do you love him?” He punctuated each word with a wave of the gun.
She held Declan’s gaze, heart pounding. “Yes. Yes, I love him.”
“Good.”
He took aim at Declan again, and she shoved her hand up into his elbow. The bullet missed its target, instead firing into the ceiling above Declan’s head. When Peter swung at her, she ducked, driving her elbow into his stomach and knocking him back a few steps.
She could hear Declan scrambling behind her, lunging forward and shoving her behind his back. When Peter raised his gun again, Declan brought his arm down hard against Peter’s elbow, and she heard a sickening crack that had Peter screaming, the gun clattering onto the floor.
Evie dove for it at the same time Peter did, and they both scrambled for the weapon. Evie hissed at the pain in her side from the glass as she skidded across the floor, kicking out at Peter when he gripped her foot and tried to yank her away.
Before he could put his hands on her again, Declan gripped Peter by the back of his shirt and hauled him to his feet, punching him in the face. Peter’s head snapped back, and he reached up with his good arm to cradle his bloody, broken nose.
Evie pushed to her feet, gun in hand, as Peter fell to his knees and Declan took aim. Peter looked past Declan to Evie, the blood from his nose coating his teeth when he grinned at her, eyes wild.
Heart pounding in her ears, she watched Declan shoot him once, twice, a third time in the center of his chest, Declan shoving her back when he lurched forward. Rolling onto his back, Peter pulled his hand away from his chest, staring in awe at the blood that covered his fingers.
“Anna,” he breathed as the life left his eyes.
On a choked sob, Evie stumbled forward, and Declan turned in time to catch her, wrapping his arm around her before she collapsed. Standing over Peter, eyes dark and ruthless, Declan leveled his gun and put a bullet through the center of Peter’s forehead.
