“But why?”
“You really don’t know? Why, you’re the perfect weapon.”
Weapon. I squirm instinctively. The guy behind me tightens his grip. Ruth steps closer until she’s near enough for her perfume to wrap around me as tightly as the Irish man’s grip.
“Sasha loves you,” she says. “But Peter doesn’t know who you are exactly. When you die, and Peter learns the truth, and learns thatSashaknew and didn’t tell him… Well, you can imagine what’s going to happen next.”
My blood goes cold. She’s going to kill me.
“Now take her to the office. I’m going to squeeze a little more worry out of Sasha.” She flicks her eyes to the bodies. “And dispose of them somewhere out back. Use cement.”
A sound echoes through the space. The sound is coming from the driver’s body. I think back to what he’d said, thathe’d been ignoring Peter’s calls. Ruth convinced the poor SOB to go rogue, then killed him anyway.
Ruth steps over to the driver and plucks his phone out of his pocket. “Peter,” she says, amusement in her tone. “Probably wants to know that the package has been delivered.” She silences the phone, tosses it aside. The phone skitters across the floor with a clatter.
“Take her,” she says, a wry smirk on her face. “Because, my dear, our fun is only just beginning.”
CHAPTER 41
GABBY
Afew minutes later, I’m tied to a metal chair in what used to be an office overlooking the warehouse floor. Half the blinds are broken and hanging at angles, stripes of sickly light cutting through the space. The air smells stale, with blood and the faint tinge of gunpowder mixing with it all.
Ruth is seated across from me, legs crossed, totally composed. Down below, I watch as the men flip the bodies onto blue tarps. They take them out one at a time, likely to dump them unceremoniously into some ditch. Then their blood will be power-washed off the concrete, and it’ll be like they never existed.
And there’s a very good chance I’ll be joining them once I’ve outlived my usefulness.
It’s all so surreal. I’m possibly minutes away from losing not only my life, but the lives of my babies. I can’t think about it. I just have to focus on finding some way to get out of thismess.
“Comfortable?” she asks sweetly.
“Sure, it’s like I’m getting the deluxe death package, instead of the standard.”
Her smile sharpens. “There’s that little tongue of yours. You really are your mother’s daughter.”
The words hit like a slap to the face. I stiffen. “You knew my mother?”
“Not well.” She studies her manicure. “But I knew enough to know that she was a problem. Louisa always thought she could play in our world and not suffer the consequences. And when it all became too much, she thought she could simply slip out at her pleasure. Really, when you think about it, everything we’re dealing with now all comes back to her stupidly selfish decision to leave.” She smiles again, as if realizing something humorous. “And now her daughter is going to die because of her decisions.”
I shift in my seat. “You think you’ve got it all figured out. But you don’t know a goddamn thing.”
She laughs. “Don’t I? You’re just scared.”
“Not in the slightest.”
Another wry smile. “Denial always ran in your family. Your father has it in spades.”
“Well, when you’re pregnant, worry comes with the territory. Not that you’d know about loving anything more than yourself.”
“Oh, you think you’ve figured me out, hm?” Her eyes flick to my belly and back up. “Those babies. Such a lovely littlecomplication.”
Her mention of the babies causes a fresh wave of nausea to roll through me. “If you think you can use them to make me beg, you’re wasting your goddamn time.”
“Oh, Gabriella.” She leans forward, a faux gentleness in her tone. “I’m not trying to make you beg.” She leans forward with a smile, as if we’re sharing gossip over brunch. “Let’s beveryclear, love—I’m going to kill you. Don’t doubt that. That part’s settled.”
The words land cold and heavy between us. My heart skips a beat, but I try to remain as cool and composed as I possibly can. I don’t want to give her the satisfaction of seeing me crack.
“Okay, so why are you talking my damn ear off? Bored? Or just a narcissist who can’t resist a captive audience?”
