Page 74 of Deadly Passion

“I want to be sure we’re not overheard,” I insist. “The information I have is… compromising. After my recent publicity, we can’t be too careful.”

He rubs his hands together in glee. Information is power, and he knows it.

“I completely understand,” he replies. “Lead the way.”

He follows me beyond the church, meandering through the gravestones. We pass through a thicket of trees which offers little visibility at a distance. No one else is around. We’ve been lucky to avoid an onslaught of journalists, so I assume the McGowan family hired security or paid for the cemetery to be locked down for the occasion.

I pay attention to the names on the stones as per Bram’s instructions, like I’m ticking off stops on a treasure trail.

“You’re getting close now,” Freddie says in my ear. “Head left, behind the trees. You’ll see the stone. Callen’s ready.”

“I hope you know that I don’t believe what people are saying about you,” Trout gushes. “Rumours are just rumours! I know you and your family are people of honour.”

“Yes,” I reply with a deadpan expression. “We are.”

Trout steps forward, and Callen flies at him from behind the headstone without warning. My lips stretch into a smile. Trout’s piggy eyes bulge in shock as Callen tackles him to the ground and pins him between his thighs.

A strangled noise comes from Trout’s throat as Callen plunges a needle into his neck. Suddenly, Trout’s survival instincts kick in. He thrashes around, attempting to break free. Whatever drug Callen injected him with is taking longer than expected to have an effect. Trout opens his mouth to scream, but Callen’s ready with a backup plan. He grabs a chloroform-soaked rag with his gloved hand and holds the fabric to Trout’s mouth until he stops struggling.

When he’s unconscious, Callen stands and wipes his jacket. Behind him, Freddie makes his way to join us from his vantage point in the undergrowth, carrying a bungee cord that they’ll use to hog-tie Trout and carry him to his final resting place.

“We’ll take it from here,” Callen says.

I nod and kick Trout in the ribs for good measure. “They’re moving to the graveside. Everyone will be gone soon.”

The two of them get to work. They roll Trout onto his front and bind his wrists and ankles.

“I’ll see you at the house later,” I say, reluctant to leave but knowing I must go. “Have fun.”

Callen winks. “Ivy will.”

No one will even notice Christopher Trout has disappeared…

CHAPTER 44

BRAM

That’s him.

Shit, I need to move.

I slide lower in my seat to make sure I’m concealed from view when I see Seb’s icy blonde hair bob past. I watch in the wing mirror as he strolls casually through the cemetery gates and into a waiting car. From his calm composure, no one would guess that he’s returning from delivering a man into the arms of his killers.

The Dukes would be furious when they learned I hired a car and followed them here, but I couldn’t stay behind knowing that my friends were putting themselves at risk. I could monitor the CCTV from anywhere, but someone had to be nearby if anything happened.

Rested on the passenger seat, my laptop streams all the nearby camera feeds and continually monitors their communications over the air. I’m tracking their phones to keep tabs on their movements, and I’ve also tapped into their earpieces, so even when they’re not talking to each other, I can hear everything—not that they need to know.

I switch off my link to Seb’s button camera and earpiece as the car whisks him to the wake. His part of the mission iscomplete, and I’ll check in on him again later. When he was at the funeral, I heard what people were saying whenever they got close to him and how they blamed him for what happened to Beatrice. Although he doesn’t care about false rumours, he’s got a sensitive side. He’ll always carry guilt over her death, despite it not being his fault.

I hit the button to increase the volume and listen to Freddie and Callen. They’re whispering as they drag Trout to the crypt where Ivy’s waiting. I wonder what’s going through her mind.

She’s about to reunite with the man who killed her sister…

CHAPTER 45

IVY

After applying the final touches to my make-up, I admire the result—a sultry smokey eye with layers of mascara and perfectly applied red lipstick. My tight black crop top fits snugly over my tits and pairs well with my high-waisted jeans. By some miracle, they hug my thick thighs but don’t hang loose around my waist. Men will never understand how hard it is for women to find good-fitting jeans. They’re a holy grail product, like a condom that makes men feel like they’re riding bareback.

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