Chapter Thirty-Nine
In which we discover that Gavin Masters' ability to be an evil bastard is unparalleled.
Sloan…
“Nate!” I run to him, ignoring Gavin’s shouts and grab him. Nate’s arms wrap around me and we’re both crying. “You’re so tall,” I weep, “you’re beautiful.”
“I missed you. You never came,” he said, crying into my shoulder.
“I know, sweetie. I’m sorry.” I squeeze him tighter. “But I’m here now and I love you so much.”
A hand fists my hair and pulls me up, shoving me onto the couch and yanking my backpack off my shoulder, dumping it over by Gavin.
“I’m sorry!” Carmella whispers, “I don’t know how they found us. I swear, I was so careful.” Her brown eyes are bright with tears. She’s a strong woman in her late forties, with magnificent silver hair. She used to joke that taking care of Nate turned her hair gray.
There’s fury already cycling in my gut, red sparks of rage smothering my fear and all I can think is this fucking prick- this bastard - has terrorized my little brother for years. Nate is one of the kindest, smartest people I know. And Gavin went after him? He poisoned the most vulnerable member of my family. All I can think about is the gun in my backpack and how I’m going to shoot Gavin in the fucking face.
And I will never regret it, no matter what happens next.
“You’ve wasted a great deal of my time,” Gavin says, looking genuinely put out. “We’re getting this shit wrapped up tonight.”
I’m still scanning the room, trying to figure out how many men he has with him. I guess being married to a mafia assassin has taught me something. There’s douchey Tony, the two guys who dragged me over to the couch. I can hear two guards walking around outside, their footsteps crunching on the seashell path.
Six. Okay, My Glock has a lot of bullets.
Then, my heart sinks as there’s a knock on the door and I hear another two men cocking their weapons before opening it.
“Room service.” The waiter could not sound more bored, so Gavin’s thugs must be hiding their weapons. Her accent is American. “Hey! You gonna frisk me like that, you gotta buy me dinner first.”
I know that voice…
It’s Catriona. My new cousin-in-law is wearing a resort uniform and a look of polite disinterest as she pushes a dining cart into the room. The man standing behind me puts his gun to the back of my head where she can’t see it.
Bastard. Like I’m going to risk them shooting her?
“Would you like me to decant the wine, sir?” She stares at Gavin, chewing gum.
“Please,” he smiles, the smarmy motherfucker.
As she’s laying out the plates and taking the lids off to show the food, she narrates the dishes with a tone that makes her disinterest clear. When her gaze sweeps over to me, I tap eight fingers on my knees. She blows a bubble and dips one eye into the slightest of winks.
“Will there any anything else, sir?”
Gavin’s still looking her over, smirking like he thinks she’s hitting on him. He’s not a bad-looking guy, silver hair on his temples and he still works out. Attractive, until you know what he is. “Well… maybe later,” he smiles charmingly.
This asshole is setting up a flirtation while he’s holding us a gunpoint? “Yeah, okay,” she says, pointedly holding out the room service bill. He signs it with a wink and she eyes it. “Oh, you can just add the tip here,” she points to an empty line on the bill.
Gavin Masters is worth maybe five hundred million dollars and the cheap fuck stiffed a room service bill? After waiting tables for the last eighteen months, I’d stab him in the throat, just for that.
The men walk around casually, helping themselves to the dining cart while Carmella, Nate, and I sit on the couch, watching them gobble down the lobster and a starfruit salad.
Catriona is here. If she’s here, Ethan is here. He followed me, even though I ran away. I’m trying not to smile, but I feel almost weightless with relief and happiness. However, these bastards are all still armed and I have to make sure Nate and Carmella don’t get hurt. Hopefully, Catriona knew what I meant with the eight fingers signal.
The front door opens again, this time revealing an irritable-looking banker type with four other bodyguards.
Shit. Twelve men now.
The guards hurry to clear off the dining room table and the man seats himself, smoothing his expensive suit and pulling a sheaf of papers from his briefcase.
“These are the heirs?” he asks, not bothering to look at us. Since he sees all the casually displayed guns, it’s obvious he knows this isn’t a simple family vacation.
“Yes, my dear children Nate and Sloan,” Gavin smiles at us beneficently and every atom in my body is yearning for that Glock in my backpack.
“We're not your kids!” Nate snaps, “Not yours-”
Tony stalks over with his gun raised and I throw myself across my brother. “Touch him and I’ll tear your microscopic dick off.”
Everyone laughs at this but Tony, whose fingers tighten on his gun.
“Put it down,” Gavin calls irritably. “You’ll get your time. We have work to do first.”
Tony grins down at me and rubs his sad little crotch with his gun. God, I wish it would misfire right now. Because if he thinks he’s going to use his teeny dick on me, his life is going to be short and painful, even if I die too.
Someone gets the banker guy a drink, and he sips on it while he fans out a pile of documents.
“So, we’ll start with Mr. Nathan Masters. He’ll sign the release of the trust into your care and then-”
“No, the fuck he's not!” The banker guy's head shoots up and he stares at me, as if deeply offended I interrupted him.
“You will sign the papers, unless you want me to start by shooting Carmella. It’s not like we need her,” Gavin grins at me. I can see the madness cycling in his eyes. Where he used to be selfish and greedy, now he’s unhinged in a horrifying way. His entire being screams that he no longer cares who sees what he is, the monster shedding his skin suit.
Carmella does nothing, merely narrowing her eyes, but Nate puts his arms around her. “No, no, no! You leave her alone! You-”
“Shut up, you whiney little fuck!” Gavin shouts. “Neither one of you could just do as you were told! Well, now we will handle things with a judicious use of time and get this finished!” His face is red, spit flying from his mouth and I wonder how many of those scotches he’s already consumed.
Another knock on the door. My heart leaps, hoping this time, it’s Ethan with a boatload of MacTavishes with guns.
It’s not.
Another guy in an expensive suit with an expensive haircut and expensive cologne. He’s blond, short, and stocky and flashes a big grin with blocky white teeth. He's got his own little entourage of five more men.
Eighteen men now.
“There she is!” He bestows that alarmingly white grin on me. “Lovely to see you again.”
He’s got a German accent and I narrow my eyes, he’s vaguely familiar…
“We met at your father’s-”
“Stepfather,” Nate corrects him.
“Your stepfather’s Christmas party,” he continues. “A year and a half ago. I’m Christoph Warner.”
He says it like it should mean something to me, but I met an endless stream of Gavin’s business buddies when he forced me to go to his company parties. “Nice to meet you, Christoph,” I say in German. “Do you know that he intends to kill us?”
This does not seem to upset him at all, throwing his head back and laughing heartily. “No, no Liebling, sweetheart.” He answers me in German, too. “Your brother will die, yes. But you and I will be married. It’s taken too much time to locate you. We shall wrap it all up tonight in a tidy package.”
Why this is the most hilarious revelation of the night, I do not know. But I start howling with laughter, holding up my left hand. “A little late for that, asshole.”
“You told me-”
“This is unexpected-”
“We had an agreement, you fool! You’re wasting my time!”
Gavin and Christoph are shouting while their bodyguards eye each other uneasily. I can see the sweat beading on Gavin's forehead as he tells Warner that he can get the marriage annulled, but this isn't soothing the German much. The banker guy just keeps sorting his papers, like this shit happens all the time.
“Who the fuck did you marry!” Gavin screams at me.
I give him my sweetest, most angelic smile because I am a spiteful bitch. “Ethan MacTavish. You know, the Scottish Demon, the man you sent out to kill me? He’s not going to be happy about this. Not at all.”
My so-called German fiancé seems affected by this information, at least. “She’s married to a MacTavish? You fucking idiot! The deal’s off. You wasted eighteen months of my time? I intend to take it back with a large financial settlement from you.”
Nate takes my left hand, squeezing it. “Is he nice?” he whispers.
“Who, honey?”
“Your Demon,” he says.
My eyes get wet and I blink furiously. “Yes, he’s wonderful. I think you’re going to like him a lot.”