Part 8 (1/2)

”Mmm.” He thumbs over his stubble. ”It's been four days, Jude. What you waiting on?”

Shaking my head, I groan. ”I don't f.u.c.king know.” I've thought about how to handle this for hours. I know when I send someone to collect from Euan, Joe's guys will most likely be there. And I know that the moment I hand her back to him, I'm f.u.c.ked. Whether she works for him or not, he will get information from her, and she knows far too much already. She knew too much the moment she set foot in my house.

Marney leans over the railing next to me. He squints against the sun and raises his brows. ”You can't treat this differently than you would any other situation. I know you don't like it, none of us do, but she doesn't belong here and she's gonna f.u.c.k everything up as soon as she gets back to Joe.” He inhales, then leans in closer to me. ”Even if she has no idea why she's here, Joe will do whatever it takes to find out what he wants. To know what your face looks like...he'll gut her.”

We stand in silence, staring out into the woods.

”Jude, she's gonna die either way. Think of it that way. If you don't kill her, Joe will. At least you'd be more humane about it, I'm sure.”

I swallow because I know he's right, but the thought of killing her sickens me. I feel this irrational need to protect her, for G.o.d knows what reason. If Joe's intention is to use her, then kill her, surely I should save her? That would f.u.c.k up his plans.

I push off of the railing and pull my phone from my pocket, selecting Euan's number from the directory.

It rings several times, and just when I'm about to hang up, he answers. ”h.e.l.lo?”

”Where's my f.u.c.king money?” I growl through my teeth.

”I...I've got about five thousand, but I can't...I haven't been able to get the rest yet, but I will. I can in a few more days, please, just...”

”Not good enough!” I pause, my mind clouded by thoughts of Joe, my mom and sister...Tor. ”You had three days, and unfortunately the thing of yours closest to me is that girl you so idiotically sent to me.”

”Don't hurt her, please!” he pleads like the pathetic piece of s.h.i.+t he is. For f.u.c.k's sake, is he really begging me not to hurt the girl he willingly sent to me, knowing d.a.m.n well what I'm capable of?

”For each day that you don't pay me, I will mutilate a part of that perfect little body of hers. If I don't have everything in full, plus another ten grand, I will kill her in three days. Got it?”

There is no sound aside from his sniffling and stuttering over the word ”please.”

By now anger has set in. I've been set up, f.u.c.ked over, and this little s.h.i.+t thinks I'll take pity on him. My jaw is ticking, my breath labored. ”And you tell that f.u.c.king uncle of yours he made a very bad decision to f.u.c.k with me.” I hang up the phone, clenching it in my fist.

I can feel my face heating as I turn to Marney. ”Look, I know I've been set up. That's not the issue right now. The issue is whether or not she's part of that set-up, because if she isn't, that makes her an innocent victim. I will not kill an innocent girl.”

”Your job is to protect this”-Marney waves his hand at the house-”not worry yourself about 'innocent victims.' You're not a knight in s.h.i.+ning armor. You're a bookie.” He huffs out a harsh breath. ”You protect number one, no matter what the cost.”

At what point does the cost become too high? Where do you draw the line? Even a man with no morals has to have a line he will not cross.

I stare at him; there's not one ounce of remorse on his face. If it were up to him, she would already be dead. This life is all he's ever had, and it's left him soulless and bitter. Is that what I look like to her? Like a heartless, bloodthirsty b.a.s.t.a.r.d?

He shakes his head like he can't understand what my hang-up is. ”You think she's innocent, but you can't guarantee that. Are you willing to bet your life on it? Caleb's life? Because you need to be that sure. If you can't put your hand on your heart and say that, then you do what needs to be done.”

”f.u.c.k!” I slam my hand against the wooden rail. Is she really worth the risk? Why the f.u.c.k can't I just do the logical thing here?

There's only one way to be sure someone is telling the truth, but my mind doesn't want to go there. If this were a guy, torturing him for information wouldn't be a problem. h.e.l.l, I'd do it myself. So now I'm left with very few options: shoot her, in case she's working for Joe, or do whatever it takes to drag the truth from her in the hopes of proving her innocence. f.u.c.k, she may prefer the option of a bullet.

”I'll make sure,” I say without looking at him.

He claps his hand over my shoulder as he moves past me. ”I know you'll do what needs to be done.” There's doubt in his voice, and he stops on the stairs, glancing up at me. ”You killed Joe's f.u.c.king wife. It's your life or hers, remember that.”

I swallow, unable to even say anything at this point. My pulse thumps hard in my chest, and all I can see are brutal images of Tor beaten and bloodied, crying and begging for me to stop, and my stomach knots.

I watch him climb into his truck and back out of the drive. I pick up the bag. ”f.u.c.k!” I shout as I open the door to the house. I walk into the living room and Caleb tosses his head back over the couch to look at me. ”What the h.e.l.l's wrong with you?”

I shoot an angry glare at him and toss the sack on the table. ”Oh, I don't know, Caleb. Maybe I'm f.u.c.king p.i.s.sed because I've been set up, and I've got a possible bug locked up in my G.o.dd.a.m.n bedroom?”

I watch his eyes glaze over, his face growing pale. ”She's not a bug...” He swallows.

”You don't know that. We've gotta be sure.”

His jaw tightens. ”She's just a girl. I swear, she's got nothing to do with Joe. Are you losing your mind? Are you that paranoid?”

”You spent three days locked in a room with her, and you think you know her. You don't know the first f.u.c.king thing about her.” I groan, frustrated at the situation. ”She spins you a few lines, bats her eyelashes, and that's it, you believe every word that comes out of her mouth. It's too much of a coincidence. She's too much of a risk.”

Caleb jumps from the couch and stomps toward me. His face blood-f.u.c.king-red, his eyes narrowed. He's f.u.c.king angry. ”You're not gonna kill her!”

I drag a hand through my hair and c.o.c.k a brow. ”I'm running out of choices here, Caleb. If she works for Joe and I let her go, we're f.u.c.ked. So, I either kill her now just in case, or I prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that she's innocent.”

Caleb falls back onto the couch, holding his head in his hands. ”What are you gonna do to her?” It's evident by his tone that the thought of harming her makes him sick too.

I inhale. ”Whatever it takes to make me believe she's innocent...or not. It's her or us.”

”f.u.c.k, Jude.” Caleb's head is still bowed. I think he can't stand to look at me right now.

”And you're gonna have to help me.”

”No.”

”It wasn't a question. You will help me. You're the only person here that's not a f.u.c.king monster.”

His eyes rise to meet mine, and they are angry. ”I won't hurt her.”

”I know. That's why I need you. It's your job to make sure I don't kill her.”

I wake up to the sound of the lock clicking. I open my eyes and watch the door swing back, throwing light across from the room.

Jude's enormous frame is silhouetted in the doorway before the door closes, blocking out the light once more. I hear him kick off his boots and the rustle of clothing as he undresses. Then I feel his weight dip the mattress. I go rigid as I feel the heat of his body near mine. I can smell the scent of whiskey and cigarettes that is all Jude. I shouldn't like it, but, weirdly, I do. He barely seems to notice my presence as he rolls over. His breathing evens out and within a few minutes, he's out cold. I lay there, every muscle in my body tense as I stare at the ceiling.

I move my hand underneath my pillow, my fingers curling around the plastic handle of the razor. I eye the door. I didn't hear him lock it. This should be easy. Just slit his throat and run. f.u.c.k! If only. Can I really kill a guy in cold blood? He'd do the same to me given half the chance, but what if I get caught? What if I don't kill him and just hurt him? My chest starts to tighten, and my pulse hammers in my veins as adrenaline floods my system. If he catches me, he will kill me. Honestly, I would rather die fighting than just take this like some pathetic victim. I need to do this.

I pull the razor from under the pillow and slowly sit up, trying to make as little noise as possible. The bed creaks slightly as I move. I stare at Jude led on his back, one arm thrown over his head. I can just make him out in the darkness. His chest is bare, the broad muscles rising and falling steadily. My eyes trace the lines of ink that wind across his chest and down his arm. He's power personified, and although he terrifies me, I'd be lying if I said that there isn't a part of me that is in awe of that power. He exudes it with every breath, every small action; he lives and breathes it.

I take a deep breath and steel myself, moving onto my knees over him. If I'm going to succeed in doing this, then I'm going to need to use what little body weight I have.

My hand shakes as I move the razor blade toward him. I eye the line of his throat, imagining what it will look like when I slit his jugular. I have the blade millimetres from his skin, when I hesitate. f.u.c.king do it! My mind is screaming at me to man the f.u.c.k up and save myself. That's all it takes, that second of hesitation. I'm staring at the blade, willing my hand to move, when I feel his fingers slowly wrap around my wrist. I want to cry. I'm not even strong enough to kill the guy who might kill me. I don't even move or try to fight him. He's going to kill me, and it's my own fault because I f.u.c.king hesitated to kill a murderer, a criminal, a heartless b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

He pulls the razor closer to his throat. ”What are you waiting for, Tor? Do it.” My eyes meet his, glinting in the dark. ”Do it,” he repeats more aggressively, pressing the blade into his skin.

”I...” I can't, I can't do it. What is wrong with me?

He suddenly moves, grabbing my hips and flipping me onto my back. His enormous body hovers over mine, pressing me into the mattress. ”You want to kill me?” he whispers, his face is so close I can feel his breath on my lips, the scent of whiskey and cigarettes overwhelming me. ”Well, here's your chance, Tor. Slit my f.u.c.king throat.” I still have the razor to his throat. I can do this. His eyes lock with mine, holding my stare, daring me. There's a deafening silence as we both wait and see whether I will do this, kill a man.

His hand slowly wraps around my wrist again, and he forces my hand above my head, pinning it to the pillow. His face drops to my neck, and he inhales along my throat.