Jethro reclined, eyeing up his penmanship. There, on the pad of my middle finger, he’d completed another JKH.
A debt for a debt.
A tally for a tally.
The residual pain couldn’t compete with my other aches and bruises. It was rather refreshing to have a wound that was sharp, rather than bone-deep and throbbing.
Jethro turned off the gun and handed it to me.
Wordlessly, he splayed his beautiful long fingers and never stopped looking at me as I inked my ownership on his mirroring finger.
My lines were straighter this time, more confident. I embraced the marks because now it only bound us tighter together, rather than recorded a new debt.
When I’d finished, he had two branded fingers.
Like for like.
Same for same.
Jethro nudged my foot again, keeping his face blank and almost cruel. I pressed back, never looking up as I turned off the gun and placed it back in its box.
Awareness scattered over my forearms. I couldn’t stop a gentle sigh as Jethro deliberately brushed my pinky with his, tucking away the discarded vial and locking the lid.
Cut muttered, “Good to see you learned from your past mistake and things are following accordingly.” Waving at the sideboard groaning with food, he added, “Eat, both of you. You have a large schedule.”
My throat closed at the thought of what that could mean.
Cut narrowed his eyes. “Jethro, you’re in charge of the Carlyle shipment. The stones arrive in a few hours. You know what to do.” Turning his cold glare on me, he smiled. “And, Nila, you’ve been summoned by my mother, Bonnie, for tea in her boudoir.”
My heart raced.
Jethro threw me a look.
What about our plans?
He glared at his father. “Ms. Weaver was subjected to enough yesterday.” His voice lowered as he spoke through clenched teeth. “Give her a few days, for fuck’s sake.”
Knives and forks screeched across crockery as the Diamond men turned to see Cut’s reaction.
Cut fisted his hands on the table. “Don’t you—”
“Um, sir?”
All heads turned to the youngest member of the Black Diamonds, a twenty-year-old man named Facet. His floppy blond hair and kind eyes were a direct contradiction to the leader he now addressed.
Cut’s forehead furrowed. Black anger covered his face. “What? What is so fucking important you interrupt me mid-sentence?”
Facet shifted awkwardly. “Sorry, sir. Won’t happen again. But, eh...we have company.” His eyes flew around the room, looking for someone to help bear the brunt of his leader.
No one moved.
The guy sucked in a breath, reluctantly delivering his news. “I tried to stop them from entering the grounds. We did what you said. But they ignored us.” Sweat gleamed on his upper lip. “Even the gatekeeper at the lock house couldn’t stop them.”
“What the hell are you talking about, boy?!” Cut exploded.
Facet jumped. “They have a warrant, sir. They—they barged past, regardless of our warnings. We reminded them that we own their department—that our brotherhood is beyond their reach.” He hung hishead. “It didn’t do any good.”
The entire table sucked in a breath.
