Heedless (The Hellbound Brotherhood #4) - Shannon McKenna Page 0,71

Sorry man. Already on the move. Josh thinks Gil will take me to the Roarke house at Beecham Lake.

He didn’t want to get there too long before Kimball and his horde. The timing was tricky, but that was what you got for conjuring up demons to do your dirty work. Demons who didn’t play by any rules but their own.

The whole thing was probably going to get him killed. And badly, too.

What the fuck. Everybody had to die someday. He gave the car more gas.

The burner rang. He grabbed it, texting as he drove.

Cant talk. Driving now. he’s probably listening to the mic in my smartphone.

Anton texted wtf r u doing?

Calling the cavalry he texted. Kimball’s cavalry.

U r fucking nuts! U asshole! U can’t control him! He’ll kill you all!

No choice. No time. Had to try. Tnx 4 everything. ttyl.

Anton was right. He was meat. Elisa, too. But at least this way, no matter what happened to them, Gil got hammered. Maybe Kimball’s ranks would also be thinned.

Never a bad thing, to cost that vicious prick money and energy.

It was too late to talk himself out of it. There were no alternatives. He’d put himself and Elisa right between a hammer and an anvil.

All he dared to hope for now was that the final blow was quick and clean.

23

Elisa’s head was throbbing, and her mouth tasted coppery and bitter as she opened her eyes a cautious slit. Her stomach lurched as the sliver of light sent a bolt of pain stabbing through her head.

Poison gas. She’d been drugged. She, Mitch and Clint. Gil had won.

Oh, God.

She turned her head. Saw gleaming cherry wood planks. A gray and beige nubbly woolen weave rug. It seemed familiar. There was dust on the shiny floor. There were dust curls under a couch, which was upholstered in a gray textured fabric. She managed, with great throbbing, pounding pain, to turn her head—and saw the big black vase that Dad had bought at an auction in South Africa, years ago.

She was at Beecham Lake. Disjointed memories flashed through her mind. The times she’d spent in that house before Josh was born. She and Mom used to come up here, with and without Dad. They’d swum in the cold glacial lake. Hiked in the mountains. Dad had liked this house. He’d modified it even more than the others.

She squinted up at the white sky through the picture window. Dark, pointed treetops towered up into it. There were snowflakes blowing in the air, in all directions.

She tried moving, but her arms were trapped beneath her at a strange angle. They were numb. She rolled over and realized that they were bound in front of her.

Someone had wrapped her wrists carefully with many layers of gauze before putting the plastic ratchet cuffs on her.

She didn’t want to speculate the reasons Gil might have for doing that. Certainly it wasn’t out of any desire not to injure her. He had a darker, crueler reason.

“There you are. Right on schedule.” It was Gil’s voice, behind her.

She rolled over, craning her neck to look up at him. Gil loomed over her, sipping a glass of whiskey. He enjoyed looking down at her, sprawled on the floor.

In fact, he’d always enjoyed looking down on her in general. Even before.

Strange, that it had become so clear to her now, when it hadn’t been before. She had needed something to compare him to. Nate had given her that.

Not that it mattered now.

“Gil,” she said hoarsely, coughing to clear her throat. “Looks like you get to chalk up a point.”

Gil chuckled. “You’re smarter than I thought, you know?”

She snorted. “Not smart enough, evidently.”

“Oh, don’t beat yourself up,” Gil encouraged her. “You were completely outmatched, after all. It’s a miracle you lasted as long as you did. Isn’t it almost a sort of relief, to finally yield to the inevitable?”

“Fuck you, Gil,” she said evenly.

Her ex-husband clucked his tongue and sipped his drink, moving the liquor around in his mouth as he stared down at her, eyes glittering.

She stared back, straight into his eyes. Cool, blank. Emotionless.

“Don’t be vulgar,” he scolded. “Have you been keeping bad company? You always were impressionable.”

“I no longer have to reflect well on you. I can be as vulgar as I want. Asshole.”

“You might want to make an effort,” he said, in a light but menacing voice. “You aren’t a complete idiot.” Gil sat down on the couch, crossing his leg and adjusting his perfectly creased trouser, so that she was