I shut off the phone. That was enough. He’d explained the situation precisely. The greedy fucker, Loring, was selling his child to the highest bidder. Meanwhile, he knew this Brit was capable of killing his own brother to inherit the family legacy.
Amanda wouldn’t believe it if she didn’t hear it from Steven himself. She was so desperate to please her father that she would make some excuse. Now she couldn’t deny what had happened.
I would show her when the time was right. And she wouldn’t stop me when I took apart her father’s empire, brick by bloody brick. Maybe she would even help me.
“Thank you for that, Steven.” I tossed him a long zip tie. “Put that through the metal ring there and bind it around your wrists.”
“What are you doing?” He shrank back, a fresh sheen of sweat forming on his brow.
His accent grated on my nerves.
I pointed the gun to the left and shot a round into the sea. “Quit stalling.”
The coward started crying.
His fingers shook as he tied the plastic length. “Are you going to kill me?”
I want to.“No.”
The relief turned his mewling sobs into sniffles. “Why are you doing this? I can pay you! More than whoever sent you to blackmail me!”
Sliding my gun into the waistband of my pants, I glared at him. “You think someone sent me?”
He nodded.
“Vaffanculo,” I muttered sharply. “As if I wasn’t capable of orchestrating this on my own.”
“Well, who the hell are you then?” Steven spat.
I pulled out a knife and flicked the stiletto open. “Maybe it’s better you don’t know the truth.”
“Hold up, mate!” Steven began to squirm. “I told you everything! You said you weren’t going to kill me!”
Rummaging in the bag, I pulled out two other tools. I ignored his stammering protests. He didn’t matter. His part in this story was over. One small parting gift from me, and I would send him back home to live out his days as he wished.
Flicking on a lighter, I heated the blade. “Relax,” I growled. “You’re going to take that boat over there to England.” I jerked my chin to the northwest.
“Then what’s with the knife?” he cried.
My lips tipped up in a grin. “You know what she tastes like.”
His howl pierced the night. The sea breeze caught it, carried it across the bay, and buried it under the waves. Our silent secret.
Rising, I walked toward the Brit. My knee pressed on his thighs, holding him still. I gripped his jaw, one handed, which was difficult, and shoved the pliers past his lips. Sweet screams of fear lanced the air. Humming along with their melody, I caught his tongue. Stretched it out. Hated that the measly piece of pink muscle had touched my girl.
“You shouldn’t have kissed her,” I murmured, words filled with darkness. “She was never yours.”
The hot blade slid through the flesh like butter.
It made a fucking mess.
I had to heat more metal, press it on the bleeding stump so he didn’t die on me—because that was never the intention. No, Earl Steven was going to live a long, healthy life—minus the tongue—and know that he didn’t get the girl.
Chapter 19 –Amanda
Water crested over itself, forming a frothy white peak. With a rush, it barreled up the sand, spreading salty fingers far and wide. Not finding its prey, it retreated to build back on itself and try again.
I forgot how loudly the ocean sang as it crashed relentlessly onto the shore. The steady drum hailed the rising sun, which streamed from behind a cloud. Shutting my eyes, I leaned against my bent knees.
