CHAPTER SIXTEEN – FINN #2
Alec narrows his eyes. “Are you set on marrying him? He comes with a lot of strings. I can’t help but think I’d be a far better choice for you. The palace would stifle that personality of yours, you know.”
Harriet turns to him and blinks flatly. “Get on with it.”
“As you wish.” His lips curve to one side, and he winks at me, then walks over to the guy on the right. He drops to a crouch in front of him. “You look like the smart one of the group.”
The guy opens his eyes, staring warily at Alec. “How’d you figure that out?”
“You’re the only one who doesn’t look like he needs an ambulance.”
“Maybe I’m just a better fighter.”
Alec pauses, then laughs coldly. “I’d believe that if my men had more than one broken nose from a lucky punch. I’ll think you’re really smart if you start talking.”
Nothing.
He presses his lips together and doesn’t say a word.
“See, that’s the problem when people don’t get hurt enough before they get here,” Alec says, standing up. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a lighter, along with a cigarette again. “They think I’m soft. That I’ll let them off lightly. But, like I said, you seem smarter than your friends.”
He sparks the lighter, setting the end of the cigarette alight. The momentary flare of light gives me a proper glimpse at the guy’s face—tough, scarred, and bloodier than I thought it was.
I glance at Hattie. She hasn’t moved a muscle, and if the scene before us bothers her, there isn’t a single hint in her body language.
No.
She looks like someone who sees this every day.
Alec drops to one knee in front of the guy and slowly twists the cigarette. “Who hired you?”
“Dunno,” he replies. “Never said their name.”
“Do you expect me to believe that?”
He shrugs the best he can, given the restraints. “I didn’t get the email, man. I just tagged along.”
“Ah, see, now we’re getting somewhere.”
“Are we?” Hattie mutters, leaning towards me. “Seems like a lot of unnecessary faffing.”
I lay my hand against her lower back, taking a step closer to her. “Shh.”
Alec moves to the guy on the left with the swollen eye. “You’re an ugly bastard, aren’t you?”
He responds by spitting at him.
“Lovely.” Alec wipes his face with his free hand, then draws back his fist. The crack of his knuckles against the guy’s nose rings out through the cavernous room, and I almost wince when I look at Harriet.
She doesn’t flinch.
She’s completely unbothered by Alec’s carefree show of violence.
“Nice shot,” she says.
Nice shot? Nice fucking shot?
Jesus Christ, who is this woman? What has she seen that a man getting his nose broken right in front of her warrants such a response?
“Thank you,” Alec says brightly. “Not sure he agrees.”
“You fucking—”
“Ah, ah, ah.” Alec turns his attention back to the guy and holds the lit cigarette out towards him. “There’s a lady present. You should watch your language.”
The guy glares at him as blood pours from his nose. “Fuck you.” He spits again, and this time, the blood mixes in and splatters across Alec’s face.
“Ah, see, now you’ve pissed me off,” Alec says, wiping his cheek and smearing the guy’s bloody spit. Before the guy can do it again, he takes the lit cigarette and presses the hot end to his bare chest.
The guy clenches his jaw, but he barely makes a sound. Unlike his flesh—it sizzles under the heat of the cigarette, filling the air with an arid scent.
“All right,” Harriet says, stepping away from me. “You. Ballsy prick in the middle.” She steps up in front of the guy whose foot she stabbed with her shoe earlier. “Start fucking talking. Who hired you?”
He leers up at her. “What makes you think I know?”
“Righty over there genuinely doesn’t know, and Lefty is too dumb to admit he doesn’t. Which leaves you, the gobby fucker with one working arm and a wandering eye.” She stares down at him. “So? How much did they offer you?”
He holds her gaze.
“No dice?” she asks. “That’s fine. I already know. A hundred grand, wasn’t it?”
‘Righty,’ as she just dubbed him, jerks his head up. “A hundred grand? You were paying me five!”
“Oh, dear,” Harriet says, cocking her head to the side. “Seems you’re underpaying your lackies. Oh, and thanks for the confirmation of your ringleader,” she adds, flashing a look towards Righty. “You really are the smart one.”
I’m a little impressed.
Little scared.
Little turned on.
Shit, she even has Alec’s full attention since Lefty has passed out, and that I do not like.
“I’m offended,” she continues, turning her focus back to the guy in the middle. “Only a hundred grand to have your way with me. Bet you wish you’d asked for more now, huh?”
He sneers. “You wouldn’t be so bold if we weren’t tied up and injured.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.”
A faint click sounds, and in the short time it takes me to blink, she’s produced a retractable blade from somewhere on her person and has the tip of the knife pressed to the guy’s neck.
“I might not be able to take all three of you, but I can fuck one of you up so badly that you’ll never use a hand again,” she says in a low voice. “Would you like a demonstration?”
Fuck.
Her free hand fists in his hair, yanking his head right back so his neck is fully exposed. One slip and the switchblade in her hand could slice deeply into his flesh and make it so that he bleeds out before anyone could stop it.
Nobody moves.
The only sound is of his harsh breathing as realisation finally dawns on him that he’s completely at her mercy with a blade mere millimetres from his jugular.
Her eyes are blazing as she stares at him—full of disgust, of anger, gleaming with a dark edge I’ve never seen before. Her hair falls over her shoulder, the blonde strands glowing in the low light, and for a moment, I’m awestruck.
Mesmerised.
Completely and utterly fucking captivated by her.
She looks like an angel.
An angel of death, but an angel all the same.
“See, not all little girls are raised on tea parties and lace,” Hattie says, her voice still low, still deadly, so ice-cold it sends a shiver crawling down my spine.
“Some of us are raised with blades and bastards like you. So, start talking, motherfucker, or I’ll see to it that you never speak another word. ”
“I don—don’t know,” he rasps, fear emanating off his trembling body. “They really never told. Just said they were hired by the crown prince to ‘handle’ you. Said you were ours to do with as we pleased.”
She presses the blade into his skin, and blood beads at the tip of the knife. “Is that all you’ve got?”
“They hated you. A lot. I didn’t ask questions,” he continues, and she eases off ever so slightly as his throat bobs, making the blood trickle down. “Didn’t think it was any of my business. We just planned to rough you up a little, send a photo, then take the money.”
My jaw clenches.
If she didn’t have that blade against his throat, I’d slit it my fucking self.
“I hope it was worth it,” she says, then leans in close to him. She whispers something in his ear, and he blanches.
Harriet takes a step back and retracts the blade, staring at him. A cold, satisfied smile stretches across her face, and she laughs. It’s equally as chilling as her smile is, and I can’t take my eyes off her.
There are so many sides to this woman that I don’t know which one is real.
But fuck me, I need to know.
I long for it.
Every dark, damaged, deranged piece of her.
“Let’s go,” she says. “I’ve got what I need.”
She walks past me without breaking her stride, and Alec briefly meets my gaze before nodding towards Preston.
“Handle this,” he orders. “Let me know when you’ve cleaned up. At least one of these fuckers must have a warrant out for him. You know the deal.”
“Yes, boss,” Preston replies. He hesitates, glancing after Hattie who’s already disappeared. “She’s, uh… She’s quite something, Your Royal Highness.”
“That’s one way of putting it,” I say dryly. “It goes without saying, but what happened here, stays here.”
He nods, then leaves his head in bowed position before turning around and ushering the other guys in the shadows to work.
“Let’s go,” Alec says. “Before she pulls that fucking blade on us, too. Where’d she even hide that thing?”
“No idea,” I mutter, following him out into the passageway.
Where, indeed?