I promise I’ll take you to see her either way.”
She stands still, looking absolutely stunned. Torn between relief and grief.
“You wouldn’t ever joke with me about something like this, would you?” she asks, her eyes hopeful.
“We both know I’m not the joking type.”
She swallows and leans against my shoulder, staring straight ahead as I light another cigar.
When the sun starts to rise over the horizon, she clears her throat. “Who ordered the hit on my mom? Was that my father as well?” She pauses, hitting me with another one. “Were you the designated hire for that job, too?”
“No to the last two questions.” I pause, getting ready to drop the final bombshell on her. “It was your aunt.”
Her face reddens, and she slumps down onto the nearest chair. She says nothing for several moments, she just continues glaring and shaking her head.
When I realize that it’s been over an hour, I grab her hands and pull her up. I wrap an arm around her hips and kiss her forehead, unable to imagine the tangled web of thoughts that are running through her mind.
“I know which ship I want to take now,” she says.
“Ship one or Ship two?”
“Neither of those,” she says, looking up at me. “I want to take Ship three…I want you to help me get even.”
“Come again?”
“I want to pay my father and my aunt back for all the pain they’ve put me through,” she says. “I want to bring down my father’s legacy, by taking everything he has and burning it to the ground.”
“What?” I can feel my eyes widening.
“I haven’t been able to have a full day of peace since my mom passed—Well, since I thought she passed. And even before that, I…” She shakes her head. “I never completely trusted my father after he abandoned us in the way he did.” Her face turns even redder. “I want to destroy him in every way possible. I want to give him exactly what he was willing to give to me.”
Those are easily some of the sexiest words that have ever fallen from her lips, but they’re wrong. She shouldn’t be thinking these thoughts, and she definitely shouldn’t be discussing them with me.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about right now, Meredith,” I say, half concerned, half aroused. “You’re just emotionally exhausted and overwhelmed. Murder is not a suitable payback for what they almost did, and contrary to what you think, that’s no longer my style as of this coming Monday.”
“Then what is?”
Silence.
I wait for her to laugh and tell me that she’s joking about this idea, but she doesn’t. She looks dead-ass serious, and I’m beyond intrigued by her desire for this third option.
“What would you do if it was you?” she asks.
“I would be a bit more creative,” I admit. “I would make sure that they were well aware that I knew what they did, and I’d never loosen the leash that I put on them. Maybe prison time, maybe financial ruin, maybe not. It just depends.”
“It just depends on what?”
“Which dose of karma I thought would help me sleep better at night”
She nods, letting out a breath. “I’ll need some time to think on that, then.”
“You have way more than that to think about.” I kiss her lips. “You still need to decide if you’re going to be Meredith Thatchwood or someone else.” I don’t give her a chance to make that decision right now; it’s silly to expect one.
“I’m chartering a private jet to New York for you on Monday,” I say, running my fingers through her hair. “I’ll pick you up when you land in the evening, after I’ve finished what I have to do, I’ll help you plan ways to get even.”
“Does that plan include helping me take down my dad’s entire legacy?”
“Yes, but I’m going to help you do something even better than that.” I pull her close. “I’m going to help you build your own.”
Michael
Now
Subject: Last one this week.
I just finished Mr. Hobson at the shipping pier.
I showed no mercy, and made sure he felt everything he deserved.
They won’t find his body until next week.
--Trevor
Subject: Re: Last one this week.
I’m on my way to finish the person who’s responsible for everything we’ve been through.
They’ll find his body minutes after I leave.
--Michael
Subject: Re: Re: Last one this week.
Please don’t tell me you’ve decided to go soft on him…
I was hoping that his death would be one of the most brutal.
--Trevor
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Last one this week.
It will be.
I