Страница 248 из 349
The muscles in her jaw tense. “Don’t try to trick me with a strategic word choice. Tell me. Right now. If I do this for you, will you get that information for me?”
My pulse kicks with her determination. Despite her being a pain in my ass, her dedication is inspiring. “Yes.”
Her chin hitches.
She’s hooked, even though she doesn’t want to be.
“Then you’ll slaughter him?” Her tone holds a new level of criticism, the dose thick and brutal. “Your own father. In cold blood.”
Fuck her. Seriously, fuck her misguided naivety.
Nobody can judge me for my plans more than I’ve already judged myself.
At one point, Luther Torian was all I had.
He kept my mind active after my mother’s death. He taught me to be strong for the sisters who buckled under the weight of their emotions. He showed me how to clasp revenge in both fists with patience and efficiency.
He was my mentor.
Now, he’s my adversary.
“This isn’t a bad deed, Anissa. I’m not pla
It isn’t a hard concept to grasp. To me, it’s common fucking sense. The more I have to convince her, the stronger I am in my own convictions.
“I have to think.” She frowns, the battle for understanding reclaiming her features. “I need time.”
“We don’t have any. My father would already have heard about my arrival.” I start toward her. “He’ll wait a day, maybe two, to make sure I wasn’t followed, then he’s going to come out here. You need to be onboard with the plan before he shows up.”
“You should’ve thought about that before you deceived me a thousand times.” She walks around the island counter, placing more distance between us. “I need time. Otherwise, I’ll give you a flat refusal now and deal with the consequences.”
“You don’t want that.” It’s a slight threat. The barest nudge toward a better resolution. “You can’t tell me you’d prefer my father to walk away unscathed instead of receiving the lethal punishment he deserves. You know what he’s done. There’s no—”
“Don’t guilt me into making this decision. You’re threatening my career. You’re trying to destroy my morals. I can’t simply sit back and watch you break the law.”
“But you’re happy to sit back and let those women continue to suffer? That’s some fucked up logic, Nissa.”
“Go to hell.” She hits me with a scathing glare. “You know they’re more important to me than anything else.” She swings around and stalks for the hall. “But I said I need time, and that’s what I’m going to get.”
Christ, she’s stubborn.
So fucking stubborn.
“He’s going to turn up una
“No.” Her stride doesn’t falter as she speaks over her shoulder. “What I need is clarity, because at the moment, my head is filled with static. Either leave me alone until I can think straight or take no as my answer.”
My limbs grow tense. Every nerve and muscle pulls tight. “I can give you a few hours.”
“You’ll give me as long as I need.” She turns to face down the hall, and disappears from site.
I listen to her fading footsteps, then hear a door open and close, shutting me out entirely.
Nobody has ever dared to disrespect me the way this woman does. Male. Female. Fed or criminal. She’s fucking delusional with her self-assurance, and I can’t help respecting her for it.
I fucking hate it, but I still respect it.
No more negotiation will happen tonight. No matter how necessary it is to my success.
“Fuck.” I pace the kitchen, ru
I swipe at the counter, sending containers flying, the destruction smashing to the floor. Glass scatters. Food splatters. A huge fucking mess is laid bare at my feet, and it’s more psychological than physical.
I can’t let her get to me.
Anger is a weakness. A deficiency. I’m above the emotion, yet Anissa siphons it from me without effort.
She fucks with my head. Messes with my decisions. She shouldn’t even be here. Dragging her along was an act of irrationality—of fucking instability. If I thought she wouldn’t have me in cuffs at the next available opportunity, maybe I’d admit defeat and send her home… Maybe.
Then again, her defiance is like a drug.
I can’t stop craving another hit despite the dangers.
I grip the counter, my hands clenched against the marble until my breathing slows and my pulse settles. There’s power in action, not reaction.
I need to get back to basics.
Think. Strategize. Plan.
“I gather your chat didn’t go well.”
I cringe at the sound of Luca’s voice and keep my hands clasped against the counter. I don’t have the patience to speak to anyone right now. There’s no calm to be found.
His footsteps approach. “Get some sleep. She’ll be less scared in the morning.”
“She doesn’t get scared,” I seethe. Or weak. Or vulnerable. Or any other emotion you’d fucking expect from a woman abducted from her own country.
“Then she’ll be less of a bitch.” He passes behind me, moving toward the destruction on the floor. “Go get some sleep. I’ll clean up the mess.”
He lowers to his haunches and reaches for a shard of glass, then another, stacking them in his palm.
“Get going.” He doesn’t bother to look at me as he speaks. “You need the rest more than I do.”
My blood boils with his placating attitude. The coddling. Who the fuck does he think he is?
No, it’s me. I’m ru
I dig my fingertips harder against the marble and clench my teeth.
She’s eating away at my temper to the point where my patience is non-existent.
I wouldn’t have thought I’d need more space when I’m secluded in the middle of nowhere, but even a remote island feels suffocating with the cloying churn of my mind.
I shove from the counter and stalk for the hall. I don’t slow until I reach her door, then I listen for a moment, hearing the grate of a zipper and the pad of soft footfalls.
She’s not throwing furniture or screaming in anger. Her control is better than mine, which only makes my blood burn hotter as I stalk away.
I don’t stop myself from slamming my bedroom door before I punish myself with a long, cold shower.
Sleep isn’t an option. There’s no use when I’m wound up. Instead, I grab my Mac and slide into bed, logging into the surveillance app to pull the feed from her room into view.
There’re two angles, one from the front-left corner, another from the back right. I can see every square inch of space, and she’s not in any of it.
The instinct to panic is overwhelming and entirely unjustified.
She can’t escape.
All the windows are alarmed. There’s no boat. I worked hard to lock away any sharp objects. All the knives and razors, along with the cleaning products, are stored in a safe place.
If she’s going to attempt to kill me, she’ll need to do it with a lamp, or a fucking bedside table.
I continue to remind myself of the precautions, but my apprehension doesn’t ease. My pulse rate only increases, pounding through my temples.
I’m seconds from sliding out of bed to go in search of her when the adjoining bathroom door opens on the screen before me, and she walks into view, tousling her wet hair with a towel, while another is wrapped around her body.
All my panic stops.
Everything does.
My thoughts. My pulse. My breath.