Donna frowned. “Likeme? Like yo’ ass!”
She rolled her eyes and reclined her seat. “Damn, this is nice. I wish Victoria was living like this when I was fucking around with her.”
Lincoln sat up and glared at Donna. “What did you say?”
Donna’s eyes widened because she knew she had just fucked up. “I didn’t say nothing, baby.”
“Oh, you said something,” he countered. “You had a thing with Victoria Storm?”
Donna sucked her teeth. “As soon as you run down everybody you fucked, I’ma do the same.”
“Okay, let’s do it!” Lincoln blurted to Donna’s surprise.
“You don’t wanna do that,” Bella muttered the warning to Lincoln.
“Shut up, Bella!”
“You shut up!”
“Can you both shut up?” Taylor requested before pulling a blanket over her face.
It was then Bella was reminded why they were passengers on Victoria’s luxurious private plane.
TAYLOR
Taylor followed Lincoln through the multi-car garage to a door that led inside the house. He picked the lock and pulled his weapon from its holster. Donna twisted the knob and eased the door open. With weapons drawn, Lucas, Bella, Donna, and then Taylor quietly followed Lincoln inside.
The inside of the Swiss Estate was just as picturesque as the outside. The clean white walls were nearly as crisp as the clean white snow that capped the mountains surrounding the breathtaking estate.
Taylor inhaled, remembering her training as she entered the mud room with her .45 ready to fire. Piano music wafted from inside the house. No doubt, the pianist had been classically trained. On top of that, whoever was tickling the ivory was drowning out any accident noise from their break in.
With Lincoln carefully leading the way, they made their way down a hall. With no resistance, they walked up a set of stairs and arrived on the main floor. They tipped across the slate tile and entered a large living room. Between the impeccably chic furnishings and the floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the gorgeous mountainous backdrop, the house was ready to be shot for Vogue Living.
Taylor stepped toward the white Grand piano. “Let me see your hands,” she ordered with her weapon trained on the familiar face.
Lincoln joined her while the others spread out about the room. With his pistol pointed at her head, he walked around the piano and yanked her from the stool. He pushed her against the wall, making it easier to watch her every move. “Sloane Vidal,” he called in a whisper.
The assassin looked over at Taylor. “Hello again.”
Taylor was tempted to let one go and shoot her right between the eyes. But Lincoln said she was off limits. Besides, Lucas had already shot her in the head, but the bitch didn’t die.
“I was told that you were off limits,” Lincoln informed.
The assassin raised a brow. “You mean someone gives a damn whether I live or die?”
“Nah,” Lincoln shook his head. “It just means you sold your soul to the devil, and its hers to take.”
“You know why we’re here?” Taylor asked.
Sloane looked at her with glossy eyes. And to Taylor’s surprise, she saw sadness.
“I know why you're here,” she confirmed with a sorrowful sigh.
“He was told that you’re off limits. I’m tempted to end you here and now. I don’t have to look over my shoulder.”
The assassin chuckled. “Such children,” she scoffed. “Ah, ma cher amie. There is no contract,” she explained with a heavy French accent. “It is never personal.”
Taylor’s hand started to shake. From deep in her soul, she wanted to knock the condescending look off her face with a bullet. Even though the assassin hadn’t pulled the trigger herself, it was because of her that Taylor’s father was dead. “Where is he?” Taylor demanded through gritted teeth.
