“Send Rudy and Orson to the motel. Chad too. Put an end to this too-stupid-to-live Neanderthal and bring his body back here. Hope should be able to say goodbye to her lover.”
“Simon, don’t!” I cry. Leaning as far forward as I can, I pray he’s as predictable as West hoped. “You don’t need to do this. He’ll never get to you. Not with all your security. He’s harmless!” I don’t have to fake my tears. Every one of my nerves feels like it’s on fire, and the more I struggle against the zip ties, the more my wrists and ankles burn.
“No one who knows my name is harmless,” Simon snarls. His hand flies, catching me across the cheek. The taste of copper fills my mouth. “You cost me millions in bribes. I almost lost everything because of you.”
He’s pacing now, back and forth so quickly, I can’t follow him. It’s too hard.
“I got the FBI investigation shut down—that was another two million by the time I was done—but all the businesses you used to hide my money over the past three years have been red flagged.” He mops his brow with a fresh handkerchief.
I’ve never seen him this out of control. This Simon could do anything. Snap and kill me in seconds. Give me to Rex or Kyle or Orson and tell them to do their worst. Slit Bettina’s throat just for fun.
He snaps his fingers, and I jerk. Rex and Kyle flank my chair. Each grab an arm—mine, of course, so it hurts more—spin me around, and shove the chair up to a folding table.
I lift my gaze, and suddenly it doesn’t matter how much pain Simon causes me. Because ten feet in front of me, Bettina lies on the floor. Her chest stutters with each breath. Fresh scratches, bruises, and—oh my God—cigarette burns line her inner thighs. Her short uniform dress is ripped open all the way from her neck down to the hem, and though she tried to cover herself, I don’t think she’s wearing panties.
“Bettina!” I whip my head around, searching for Simon. Fuck. I’m so dizzy now, I want to throw up. “What did you do, you bastard?”
He swoops in from my left side. “I promised you she’d suffer.” His thin lips curve into a smile, and too late, I start to suck in a deep breath. I know what’s coming.
Simon wraps one hand around my throat, squeezing so hard, I can’t get any air.
My arms and legs jerk violently, desperate to break free, but the plastic ties are too strong. Simon is too strong.
Burning. My chest. Lungs. Prickling pain in my eyes. Can’t think. Air. Need air.
Please.
Simon’s stare bores into me. Spasms rack my entire body. He’s so angry. No control.
“Boss!” Rex shouts, and Simon jerks his hand away.
He’s saying something. Lots of somethings. But all I hear over my own heartbeat is unintelligible ranting. Across from me, Bettina struggles to move. What is she doing?
Deep, heaving breaths leave me exhausted. I barely have the energy to keep my head up. More shouting. Rex. Simon.
“Not until we find the SEAL!” Rex says, getting right in Simon’s face. “This is your fucking plan, boss. Stick to it!”
Simon pulls out his phone and jabs the screen. “Fine. Get the laptop. I’m unlocking the internet.”
The internet. Why?
Rex places a sleek, black computer in front of me, opens it, and presses his index finger to the sensor.
“Simon?” I peer up at him, confused. Bettina manages to sit up, but the motion exposes more of her torso. I doubt there’s even an inch that isn’t bruised.
“You are going to fix your mistakes, my dear, sweet Hope.” He reaches into his pocket for a folded piece of paper. “This is a list of clean companies. Ones the FBI haven’t flagged. You will distribute my assets among these nine entities, and you will do it before the sun comes up.”
“I c-can’t. My head…”
The punch comes out of nowhere. Hard and fast and right to my jaw. Blood fills my mouth. Too much. Spitting it onto the floor, I struggle not to pass out.
“This is your last warning,” Simon snarls.
When he curls his lip, he looks like a demented clown, and the thought almost makes me laugh. Until Rex stalks over to Bettina, kicks her, and presses his boot to her throat.
Simon fists my hair and forces me to meet his gaze. “I’d let my men have their fun with you until there was nothing left, but finding another accountant I can control will take me weeks. Do your job, or your pretty friend dies.”
“I need…my hands,” I whimper. “And…time. It’s hard to think. Stairs…my head hurts so much. Please, Simon. Don’t…hurt her.”
