She visibly swallows. “He just wanted updates. How many guards you had. Where she was keeping his daughter.”
I scoff. “Hisdaughter. The man’s a fuckin’ sperm donor, nothin’ more. He doesn’t give a shite about the wee girl. And the envelope?”
Her jaw trembles as her eyes plead with me for mercy. “He just asked me to give it to her. I swear I didn’t know what was inside. That it would make her take off.”
I smile but by the sudden smell of piss I know my smile is tainted with my fury. “And telling my girl I was fuckin’ you at night? What’s your excuse for that?” Yeah, I had watched the surveillance video of Sam’s whole day. This conniving cunt hurt my girl with her petty bullshit.
She squeezes her eyes shut. There are no more answers she can give me.
I pull the trigger, splattering her deceitful brain out the back of her skull.
My boys are already moving in to clean up as Sully and I push back through the doors.
Chapter 45
Samantha
Rona and I are in the cramped bedroom in the back of the plane. The first hour, I told her stories to keep both our minds off our predicament. She’s asleep now and I can only lay here, gripped with anxiety, silent tears soaking the pillow.
Killian would know I left by now. He’ll be trying to find me. I’m sure Michael knows that, and he’ll have a trap ready for him. God, if anything happens to Killian because of me. A quiet sob escapes my throat.
The door cracks open. Then Michael appears. He looks at Rona’s sleeping form, then flicks his chin for me to follow him.
I sit up, a wave of nausea gripping me, and follow him back out to the seating area. He motions for me to sit in the grey leather seat across from him. I do but keep my eyes glued to the window. A thin layer of gauzy white clouds streak by every few seconds.
A stewardess comes over and sets a glass of water and a plate of fruit in front of me.
When she leaves, Michael barks, “Samantha, look at me.”
I grit my teeth and meet his gaze. My stomach drops and my breathing picks up. I force myself to hold his eyes. Those soulless holes in his head.
He nods, satisfied, and adjusts his suit jacket. A sinister smile touches his lips. “An Irish mobster, really?” He clucks in disappointment. “I thought you had better taste than that.”
“Guess you don’t know me at all.” I can feel the heat creeping up my neck and realize it’s anger. How dare he insult the only man who’s ever cared about me and Rona. Who’s ever protected us.
He must see it in my eyes because his brow lifts. “Oh,” he says, his gaze narrowing, calculating. “You actually care about him. How interesting.”
Shit.
His jaw clenches. “Did he fuck you?”
My nostrils flare. I glare back at him, staying silent.
Then he lurches forward and his hand clutches my throat, squeezing until I’m fighting for air and seeing pinpricks of light. His eyes are two black pits that I’m in danger of disappearing into. I scratch at his hand, trying to get free.
“You let someone else touch my property?” he seethes.
Finally, he loosens his grip enough for me to suck in a breath. But instead of letting me breathe, he presses his mouth against mine, squeezing my jaw with his other hand until I open with a whimper and he can force his tongue inside.
I gag and scratch at his grip, try to bring my knee up, but he blocks me.
He forces himself on me until tears are streaming down my face. Then he pulls his mouth away and licks the tears off my cheeks. “I missed these tears,” he whispers. He runs his thumb over my mouth and then drops his gaze to my body. “I told you, your body, your soul… are mine. And I will so enjoy breaking youall over again.” He grabs me roughly between my legs. “Maybe I’ll stick another baby in you.”
My knees reflexively squeeze shut. I can’t keep the fire out of my eyes. I hate him so much. I want to burn him alive. Unfortunately, he notices the fight in me, and it gets him excited. He shoves his hand into my yoga pants and underwear, roughly moving his fingers over me, pinching my sensitive skin.
“Looks like nothing’s changed. We’ll need to get some lube for this dried-up cunt,” he growls in my ear. Pulling his hand out, he smacks my cheek and leans back. “Eat something. You’ll need your strength for what I have planned.”
I move my gaze back out the window, feeling sick that he’s touched me. Now I want to set myself on fire. I won’t survive him again. Not after knowing what it feels like to be touched by a man who actually cares about my pleasure… about me. I shrink into myself until the numbness is all that’s left.
