Chapter 67

The large guardglanced at his watch, then angled away from Kayla while to speak with his men through his throat mic. When he shifted back, his features were so hard an Olympian could’ve ice-skated across them.

“Status?” Elsie asked, her voice as calm as ever, though she leaned forward in her seat.

“My men aren’t answering.”

“Could the mountains be interfering with radio transmission?”

“No. Not with our technology.”

Joy surged through Kayla and she squeezed Jillian’s hand, silently communicating all would be well. The injury to her mother’s right cheek was causing her eye to balloon. However, looking at her profile from the opposite side, one would never know she’d been brutalized.

Jillian’s back hadn’t lost a centimeter of its rigidity. She scanned the room as if looking for vulnerabilities. Opportunities to get them out of there. Kayla had never been prouder to be the daughter of such a strong and resourceful woman.

“Send more men to check on things,” Elsie said.

“I don’t have any more available.”

“How’s that possible?”

“Because Ash took them all out,” Kayla said, smiling.

Marco set his jaw.

“You stationed three at the main house,” Elsie said.

“Who need to stay there,” the guard said.

“To guard one sleeping woman?”

“You’re assuming the agent’s working alone.”

The first fissure in Elsie’s calm fa?ade appeared. It took her two blinks of the eye to pull it back together. “Send two men.”

“It would be best?—”

“I’m not interested in your opinion, right now. Send them.”

“You’re jeopardizing the mission and the safety of my men.”

“The only thing in jeopardy is your bonus. Send. Them.”

Terror crawled up Kayla’s throat. Ash might have managed to survive his two executioners, but who knew what kind of toll the encounter had taken on him.

He’d lost a lot of blood before they patched him up. Had he passed out after his skirmish? Or did he die along with the guards? Was there another reason for their radio silence?

Every neuron in Kayla’s brain was urging her to act, to stop the team leader from sending his men. One look at Jillian put a halt to any rash action, though. Kayla couldn’t chance it.

Marco leveled a defiant glare on Elsie. For a split second, Kayla thought he might put his men’s lives ahead of his bank account. Then he lifted a hand to his throat and barked orders into his radio.

“Now that Mr. Blackwell will soon be dispensed with,” Elsie set two half-filled wineglasses in front of Kayla and Jillian, “we can get down to the real business at hand. Drink up, ladies.”

Kayla stared at what was no doubt tainted wine for several pounding heartbeats before wrapping her fingers around the glass stem.

“Don’t, Kayla,” Jillian warned.

“I must.” She gave the red wine a twirl, inhaled the fruity aroma, and tossed the contents into Elsie’s face.

The fashion designer screeched, bounded from the sofa, and ran to the sink.

“Don’t lick your lips, auntie. Could be deadly.”

Kayla braced herself for a retaliatory hit from Marco. None came. A muscle twitched in his jaw. His version of a smile?

“My offer still stands,” Kayla said to him. In answer, he picked up the wine bottle and refilled her glass. “You’re as psychotic as your employer if you think I’m going to willingly commit suicide.”

“Do you want a repeat of what happened last time you defied me?” He looked pointedly a Jillian’s damaged cheek.

“Torturing us won’t go unnoticed by the ME.”

He leaned forward until his square face was inches from hers. “Fire can mask a helluva lot.”

Elsie came storming back. Strands of wet red hair clung to her face. Thick smudges of mascara beneath her eyes gave her a deranged Elvira appearance.

“You stupid, reckless child. No wonder Victoria gave you up the moment you washed from her womb.”