Chapter 46
Somewhere in South America
After two days of fun, unfortunately, I need to leave. I have a contract in Egypt in less than a week, one Beau believes is connected to the man trying to kill me.
“Don’t worry about that. You’ve already paid.
If I didn’t have to take off these gloves, I’d show you the transfer I made from your account to mine in Mauritius.
But I’m methodical. If I remove them now, I’ll have to wash my hands before grabbing my phone, and then I’d have to kill you tomorrow instead.
Can’t do that. My wife is waiting for me. I plan to finish our business today.”
He starts to cry, then curses and threatens me.
He begs forgiveness, then tells me to go fuck myself . . .
Christ, they’re never original when death closes in, but the ones born with a silver spoon are the worst.
The bastard and I almost became friends, we spent so many hours together.
During our little bonding, I uncovered the missing pieces in Taylor’s story. Luckily for him, nothing too dramatic.
He really hadn’t touched Jackie’s friend when he kept her in a gilded cage. He actually believed the redhead would love him one day. But after taking her on a cruise and realizing he wasn’t making any progress with Taylor, he planned to start drugging her and eventually resort to rape.
Those are secrets I’ll take to the grave, anyway. No one needs to be haunted by this sick fuck’s twisted plans.
With a little persuasion, after only a few hours of torture, he confessed everything, including why she’d been kidnapped in the first place.[12]
What he did to Taylor was fucked up, but that wasn’t why I chose to torture him instead of putting a bullet between his eyes, my usual MO.
It was because I discovered he had decided to turn against my woman.
That’s why Beau told me on the phone this one would matter to me: it concerned Jackie too.
The bastard put two and two together and realized she was the one who’d orchestrated Taylor’s rescue. He wanted to punish her for screwing up his life, and in doing so, he signed his own death warrant.
“I don’t want to die.”
I place one hand on my hip, only the back of it to keep from staining myself with blood, and watch the man who’s already dead but doesn’t know it yet.
“Then we’re at an impasse,” I say, choosing the perfect knife for what I’m about to do, feeling relatively good-humored because I know when I leave here, she’ll be waiting for me.
“Because I really want to kill you. You could’ve spared yourself pain.
I’m a good man . . . No, scratch that. I’m not a good man, but I am a fair one.
I would’ve given you a bullet. You wouldn’t even have known it had happened.
You’d have fallen asleep and woken up in hell. ”
“I’ll take it.”
“You missed your chance.”
“Who the fuck are you?”
“I don’t have just one name. I’ve been called many things, but since we’re saying goodbye, I think it would be rude for you to leave without an introduction. My birth name is Lucifer.”
“What?”
“Enough talking. Give my regards when you get to hell. I’ve got plenty of friends there.”
“Why do I have to die? Taylor’s safe.”
“This isn’t about Taylor anymore. It’s about Jackie. She’s mine. Nobody touches what’s mine.”
“You can have her. I don’t want that bit—”
A clean slash, ear to ear, and then my favorite color bursts forth: red.
I drop the knife and strip off the gloves. Then I stretch my body, a little sore from the excessive enthusiasm.
Finally, I can return to the island, take a shower, and then have dinner with my wife.
The woman the poor devil made the fatal mistake of even thinking about harming.