Dizzie stepped back out of range. She curled her fingers into her palm and balanced on the balls of her feet. She turned her left shoulder toward Portia, to protect her head from Portia’s longer reach.
Portia stared at her hand, shaking it.
Dizzie hoped Portia’s hand hurt as badly as her cheek did. “You fight like a girl,” she taunted.
Portia lunged again. Dizzie took advantage of her impulsiveness and swung her right fist, striking Portia in the jaw.
Portia’s head swiveled and she dropped to the mattress.
Thank god. Dizzie’s hand hurt like a motherfucker and she really didn’t want to have to punch her again.
“You hit me!” Portia brought her hand up to her lip. It came away bloody.
Dizzie experienced a sense of satisfaction. “You hit me first!” It was a reply better suited to the playground. Or actual sisters. “What do you want from me?”
Portia didn’t answer. She sat up and stared at the blood on her hand. “They wouldn’t let me see him. I don’t even know how much he suffered.” Portia’s pain was palpable, striking Dizzie harder than any physical blow.
What was Dizzie supposed to say to that? “I’m sorry.” It would never be enough.
“You’re sorry,” Portia snarled. “You delivered the bomb that killed my husband but you’re sorry. You nearly buried me alive. Oops, you’re sorry. You nearly buried Killian—the man you’re fucking—alive. But you’re sorry. That’s supposed to make it all better?”
Portia’s words—her pain—rained down on Dizzie like blows. She flinched, but didn’t hide. She deserved it.
“If it’s any consolation, Portia, you were both supposed to die.”
The voice sent chills down Dizzie’s spine. She knew that voice. The last time she’d heard it, she’d been locked in this same damn cell.
She whirled around, her hands curled into fists. Leopold Brunswick stood in the cell’s doorway, looking ruffled. His hair was mussed and his usually pressed suit appeared slightly rumpled. He wasn’t even wearing a tie.
“You two are really acting like sisters.”
Portia pushed off the mattress and faced her father’s assistant. “Did my father send you, Leopold? Are you here to tell me to go back upstairs like a good little girl?”
Apparently, Portia thought the guy was an asshole too. Bonus points for her.
“Oh no, Portia. Your father didn’t send me. If fact, if he knew why I was here…” He laughed.
The sound gave Dizzie the creeps. She wished Portia hadn’t dismissed the guards.
“If he knew what?” Portia taunted him. “I know you like to throw my father’s power around, Leopold. It makes you feel special. Makes you feel like you’re a part of the family, right? When you do my father’s bidding?”
Portia laughed. It was cold and bitter. The perfect Ice Queen laugh. “Well, guess what? The courier here has more of a shot at being part of the family because, newsflash, she already is.” Her voice carried a tinge of hysteria.
Hadn’t her sister heard what the man said? Taunting the man who wanted them both dead didn’t seem like a good plan.
Dizzie’s gaze volleyed between the two of them. Trapped as she was in a cell between two of the people who ran the Tremaine Corporation, her lack of power had never been more evident.
This was a private battle. There was obviously bad blood between the two of them. Maybe Dizzie could use that to her advantage.
The fight with Portia had positioned Dizzie close to the door. Unfortunately, Leopold blocked the doorway.
“You are such a bitch, Portia. I wish the bomb had taken you out, the way it was supposed to. Both of you.”
Dizzie’s jaw dropped and she took a step back, hitting the glass wall.What the hell?Had Leopold just confessed to being behind the bombing?
“You set me up with the bomb?” The words flew out before her brain caught up.
Leopold turned his attention to her. “You’re definitely not the brainy sister, are you? It was so simple to take the package to business services. And you’re so predictable, taking whatever extra shifts you can.”
