Chapter 65

“Take off your clothes.”

Kayla stared at the largest of Elsie’s henchmen. Fear fluttered at the edge of her consciousness.

Do you trust me?

Ash’s words came back to her. He had a plan to get them out of this. She didn’t know what it could be though. The odds against his success were astronomical.

But she trusted him to keep his word. Until then, it was her job to make sure Jillian stayed alive. Even if it cost her a piece of her soul.

“Clothes,” the guard prompted.

The flutters didn’t beat faster. They hardened. Turned poker hot.

Kayla shook her head. “I’m not about to make your job easy, Marco.” She braced herself. Waited for him to storm over and strike her or rip away her clothing.

He didn’t bother. Didn’t need to. With all the exertion of a slug, he strode to where her mother sat on a large, square ottoman and pressed the barrel of his weapon to her temple.

No more commands. Just a hard stare.

Jillian’s back was ramrod straight. She didn’t flinch, nor did her gray eyes plead with Kayla to comply.

She knew why. Her mother didn’t have the benefit of knowing Ash would return to save them. She assumed their fates were sealed and had decided not to let her enemy see the terror that no doubt rippled through her body in ever-increasing waves.

Kayla hated the fact that she couldn’t soothe her mother’s fears. All she needed was five seconds alone with her, but the chances of that happening were less than zero.

Recalling Elsie’s reason for sending Ash into the woods, she said, “Forensics would have a field day with a bullet hole through Jillian Krowne’s skull.”

Marco’s response was so fast, so astonishing, so violent that Kayla didn’t realize what had happened until Jillian cried out and crumpled across the ottoman, the skin covering her cheekbone splayed open to the bone.

“You sonafabitch!”Kayla rushed across the room, looking for something to staunch the blood. When nothing appeared, she yanked her cotton top over her head and eased the skin back together before pressing her shirt against the wound. “I’m sorry, Mama. So sorry.”

Jillian sat up, holding the blood-soaked shirt to her damaged face. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Best do as he says, though.”

“Remove your pants.” He motioned to a set of royal blue pajamas lying across the back of the sofa. “Put those on.”

Kayla locked her jaw before standing and yanking the PJs from their perch. She toed off her shoes, while she unbuttoned her tight-fitted jeans with blood-covered hands. She shimmied free of them, never taking her eyes off the guard.

To his credit, Marco kept his attention on her face. Not once did his gaze drop down to her near nakedness.

If he hadn’t just brutalized her mother, she would’ve taken his consideration as an indicator he still had a smidgeon of honor left that she could appeal to.

“Whatever Elsie’s paying you, I’ll double it. All you have to do is walk away.”

“It don’t work like that, lady.”

“What doesn’t?” She stabbed her hands into the arm holes and dragged the top over her head, not even bothering to unbutton it.

“I have a contract with Ms. Hinshaw. When it’s completed, I’ll consider your proposal.”

“Hard to do if I’m dead.”

“Then I won’t consider your proposal.”

Kayla pulled on the silken bottoms and sat next to Jillian and grasped her hands.

“Now what?”

Elsie entered the guesthouse, carrying a bottle of red wine. “We wait.”

“For what?”

The house’s open concept allowed Kayla to follow the other woman’s movements. She drew two wineglasses from a cabinet, placed them and the bottle onto a large wooden serving tray before taking a seat on the L-shaped sofa behind them.

She slid the tray onto the ottoman. “For word of your lover’s death. He’s digging his own grave now.” She patted the sofa cushion beside her. “Come sit with me.”

When Kayla and Jillian ignored her, the guard grasped Jillian’s upper arm and hauled her to her feet.

“Don’t touch her!” Kayla ordered, shooting to her feet.

She tried to pry his sausage-like fingers from her mother’s arm, but they didn’t budge. She dove for the wine bottle to use as a weapon. He wouldn’t hurt Jillian again. She’d make sure of it.

But Elsie beat her to the bottle. “Not this, dear. It’s a special blend.”

The guard forced Jillian toward the sofa.

An animal instinct combined with fury combined with one of Liv’s self-defense moves exploded from her brain, rushed down her arm, and powered her fist.

She elevated two of her knuckles and drove them into the soft fleshy part at the base of his throat. The gagging sound he emitted was immediate and more gratifying than she’d expected. She wasn’t a person who enjoyed inflicting pain, physically or emotionally. But the asshole had laid open her mom’s cheek.

Kayla drew Jillian to the side and wrapped her arms around the older woman. She hadn’t hurt him enough for them to attempt an escape. He’d be on them before they cleared the door.

Her little rebellion might have accomplished her goal of freeing Jillian from his crushing hold, but she’d likely shifted his transactional mindset to something more personal, something involving pain. When his watery eyes lifted to meet hers, she saw a promise in their hate-filled depths.

A promise of retribution.

Of pleasure.

His.