Chapter 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Natasha

"Poor Enrique," I murmured as blood spilled from the deep slice across his neck. He blinked once as I let him slide to the sheet of plastic under our feet. "You have only yourself to blame."

I'd honestly thought Enrique would give me the most trouble, but he hadn't even checked the room before walking into my knife.

Dumbass.

His lips parted as if he wanted to say something, then his eyes closed forever.

Knowing I didn't have much time, I wrapped his body in the plastic, then dragged him into the bathroom and shut the door behind me to hide my handiwork. Either Matt or George would be next, and I wasn't sure which one I'd prefer.

Not that it mattered much. They were both going to die.

Working quickly, I spread out another sheet of plastic. Just in time too. I barely made it into the shadows of the secret alcove next to the bed before Matt walked in.

"Enrique?" Frowning, he glanced at the plastic, then shrugged and moved close enough to look under the bed. He straightened, then turned to face the exit.

Before he could move, I slapped a gloved hand over his mouth and slit his throat, exactly as I'd done for Enrique. Air whistled through the hole in his windpipe as I lowered him to the plastic.

"Again, you have only yourself to blame," I whispered as he died.

I tried to feel bad about what I was doing. Maybe some small bit of me was screaming at the wrongness, but it was more wrong to let them live. All I had to do was imagine them getting their slimy hands on another little girl. Maybe they wouldn't stop with emotional and physical abuse either. Maybe…

My guilt faded as I wrapped him in plastic and dragged him into the bathroom with Enrique.

"One to go." I moved faster as I laid out fresh plastic. George wouldn't wait as long this time.

As I crept into my hiding place, I heard heavy footsteps on the stairs. The thickly carpeted hallway muffled the sound, but I could hear their conversation.

"Damn it," George said, puffing slightly as he walked into Lachlan's bedroom, dragging Saoirse behind him. "I should have done this myself."

He yanked Saoirse's arm, and I grimaced when I saw her face. She looked almost as bad as I usually did after one of my father's visits, but I hadn't counted her into my plans.

As long as he let her go before he got into position, everything would be fine, but I hated the thought of traumatizing her.

"Good help is so hard to find," Lachlan replied, his voice warming me from the inside. "I'm billing them for a new bed."

"You assholes!" George shouted as he stomped close enough to let me smell his stench. "Where?—"

Frowning, he looked at the neatly made bed, which had not a single spot of blood on it, thank you very much.

"Where are they?"

"Maybe they're in the cage with her," Lachlan replied. "There might be room enough for three if they're friendly."

"And what's with the plastic?" George moved almost within reach, and I tightened my hand around my knife hilt.

"Be serious. That carpet is almost six hundred per square foot. Do you honestly expect me to let a filthy pet on it?"

I grinned at Lachlan's response, but he had a point—and good taste in decorating.

Finally, thankfully, he dropped Saoirse's arm and moved within reach. The minute he turned to face Lachlan, I slid from my hiding place.

This time, I didn't bother to cover my victim's mouth as I set my knife to his throat. There was no one left to rescue him.

"Hey, Georgie Porgy! Didja miss me?"

"What the?—"

He didn't get to finish his sentence.

Lachlan

"Hey." Natasha knelt next to Saoirse but didn't touch her. "You're safe now. They're all gone."

"Gone?" Saoirse tried to open both eyes, but the left was too swollen to allow it. "No. I don't see them. They'll come back for me. I?—"

The tears thickening my sister's voice broke my heart. My thirst for vengeance already cost me my wife, and I almost lost my sister too.

"Shh. It's okay." Natasha rocked back on her heels. "Will you let Lachlan help you so you can see for yourself?"

"Do you think you're too good to touch me?" Saoirse snapped before struggling to her feet. "I don't need anyone's fucking help."

"No. I don't think I'm too good for anything," Natasha replied quietly. "But I know I scare you, so I figured Lachlan was the better choice."

"Fine." Saoirse brought her hand to her lower lip to wipe at a trickle of blood. "What do you want me to see?"

"In the bathroom." Natasha opened the door to reveal two bodies neatly wrapped in plastic. "Dead guy burritos. Matt is on the left. The other is Enrique."

"Dead guy burritos. Christ." Saoirse laughed, the sound jarring and discordant. "Why?"

"I promised your brother I'd keep you safe." After closing the door to hide the bodies, Natasha shrugged. "I wouldn't wish George on my worst enemy."

Without waiting for a reply, she picked up the edge of the plastic and wrapped George as neatly as she'd done to Matt and Enrique. When she finished, she stood on a clean sheet of plastic before stripping down to her underwear.

I averted my gaze, but… Damn, she was gorgeous. I tried not to miss her softly rounded curves, gone because of me.

Fuck. She already knew how to keep a murder scene clean. My chest ached, and I resisted the urge to wrap her in my arms. No innocent should ever be forced to learn how to kill.

I grabbed George's feet and hauled him into the bathroom with his friends, then returned for her things. I'd already sent a coded text to a very good, very discreet cleaner. The bodies would be gone before sundown, along with their SUV and every last trace of their existence. The cleaner's services were more than worth the six-figure fee.

"Thank you. I'm going to clean up and get packed." Her gaze rested on Saoirse. "Take a tepid bath with Epsom salt. Witch hazel everywhere you can reach, then arnica gel. After that, take some acetaminophen, then pretend you're a dish of caviar and pack yourself in ice."

Her words made me wish I could bring her abusers back to life so I could kill them again. The advice was too detailed to have come from anything but experience.

"Wait. Are you leaving?" Saoirse asked. "Just like that?"

"I think I've overstayed my welcome. Don't you?"

"Let me get this straight." Saoirse got in Natasha's face and put her hands on her hips. "You're going to save my life and get rid of the last of your stupid father's guards, then give advice on soothing my bruises without even staying for supper?"

"Pretty much, yeah. I need to pick up my babies and find a hotel for the night." Natasha smiled briefly. "There's a pan of frozen enchiladas in the freezer. The heating instructions are on the label."

"Babies?" Saoirse spun to face me and punched me in the stomach. "She has children, and you?—"

"She means Dante and his kitten." Thankfully, my sister didn't know how to throw a punch—unlike my wife. For a single misguided moment, I wished Natasha would stick around long enough to teach her.

"Children are definitely not on my bingo card." Sighing heavily, Natasha picked up her weapons and handed them to me. "These should probably go with the bodies."

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Yeah. There's no point in leaving evidence, and I can replace them." After making sure the bottoms of her feet were clean, she strode to the door. "Don't forget to file those divorce papers."

Without waiting for a reply, she walked out.

"I've never seen you look at a woman that way," Saoirse said.

"What way?"

"Like she farts rainbows and pisses glitter. It's disturbing." Saoirse shuddered, then asked, "Do you love her?"

Am I that transparent?

"Yes. That's why I'm letting her go."

"Wow. When did you decide to turn into a pussy? Go get her back."

"Well, considering she doesn't want to stay, and you're scared of her…" I shrugged, then added, "What else am I supposed to do?"

She laughed softly and shook her head. "Oh, she is terrifying, but you caged her once. I'll help you do it again."

"That won't end well for either of us." I cocked my head toward the closed bathroom door. "You saw what she did to her father and his men."

"You handled it all wrong, and I told you that on your wedding day." She smiled and grabbed a T-shirt from my dresser, then slipped it over her torn dress. "You didn't consider trying to figure out how to make her like it."

The end… for now.