Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 69129 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69129 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Her green eyes struggle not to widen in surprise.
“You can fake your name. You can fake a background check. Hell, you can even fake your fingerprints,” I coldly inform while gripping the edge of the fish once more. “But faking your direct DNA is impossible.”
This time my hacking motion is followed by J.T. casually leaning back on the couch beside me, lit cigar being removed from his mouth. “I think it’s time we have formal introductions, don’t you?”
She futilely struggles against her rope confines in objection.
He motions a polite hand inward and begins, “I’m-”
“Heeeeelllppppppppp!”
“No one can hear you,” I inform in between carefully separating the severed pieces.
“Hellllppppppppp!”
“It’s one of the reasons yacht sex is my favorite.”
“That is certainly a perk,” J.T. arrogantly agrees. “Personally? I-”
“Helllllppppppp!!!!!”
“Prefer the mile high club.”
Tossing the fish head into one bucket precedes me warmly nodding, “I look forward to finally joining that.”
“Helllllpppppppppp!!!”
“The crew is currently occupied.” My eyes lift to lock onto hers. “They were given explicit instructions by their employer – who was happy to loan me this boat after I generously donated to her charity – not to come above deck until I commanded.” A devilish smile slithers into place. “See, that’s the thing when dealing with powerful people.” The expression deepens. “We’re more than willing to provide assistance to our allies when war has been declared.” I lean slightly forward and growl, “And that’s exactly what you’ve been raging, isn’t it, Miss Masters?”
“Fuck you,” she hisses on a wiggle of her figure.
“Much like I did when your niece offered, I’m going to have to decline.” Her mouth drops in disgust, yet I call out, “Brynley! Could you come here, please?”
The love of my life strolls out of the nearby living room area she had patiently been passing the time during word searches in. Her all-black clothing – that won’t be missed when the time comes to dispose of it – cloaked frame cheerfully arrives beside the tied up individual while Park and Holmes who had been keeping her company position themselves beside the two metal buckets we’ll be filling.
“J.T.,” my attention briefly cuts to him, “would you care to make those introductions now?”
He steals a couple quick puffs of his cigar prior to announcing, “Everyone this is Catalina Masters. Your niece,” his smoking free hand gestures at her, “fucked me,” a second gesture inward is made, “to try to get to him,” the waving happens in my direction. “Your niece,” J.T. stabs the air in front of her again, “also poisoned her mother,” Bryn theatrically waves, “in a terrible attempt to get your ex-brother-in-law a promotion.”
“Little Prey,” I interject, gaze connecting with my wife’s, “could you show how to properly cut into the fish to maintain more of the meat?” An undeniably sinister smirk is attached to my offering of the knife. “I think it’d make a better chum mixture with hearty chunks.”
“Of course!” After taking the weapon, she turns her attention to Park and Holmes. “Could you boys assist me?”
“Whatever you need,” our trusted guard states.
“I’m gonna need you to hold her down so that she stays still.”
“Noooooo!” screeches the older, immobile woman.
“I wanna make sure I don’t nick the bone.”
Her howls of objection unquestionably fall on deaf ears.
Those that are here wouldn’t be if they felt differently.
Now, is not the time to have to question anyone’s loyalty.
Devotion to this family.
Now is the time to see it.
Prove it.
And the only reason Janae didn’t join us on this outing is because she had a prior obligation with her brother.
I like that it provides her with a solid alibi, not that she’ll need it.
This incident never happened.
We were never here.
The three of us attended a private soiree on South Haven Island that lasted well into the morning.
As for Jean St. Clair?
Well…the life of a con artist tends to catch up to them at some point.
The forged goodbye letter and point proving paperwork should be enough for Silas as well as everyone else who “knew” her to accept this woman’s abrupt disappearance.
Bryn yanks up the woman’s sleeve, firmly pinches the territory, and instantly begins sawing at the pale flesh, unbothered by the blood dripping between her fingers. “You wanna go nice and slow.” Agony filled screams are spewed into the dark of the night. “Long. Straight. Slices.”
“I see.”
Once she’s finished, she holds up the gory prize for us all to admire. “I learned that from a Turkish chef back in college.”
The hunk of flesh being tossed into the bucket prompts the team members of security to relinquish their hold on their crying female.
“Park,” transitioning the knife into my possession is done between proceeding, “tell Ms. Masters what it is we know.”
“Catalina Masters is the twin of the now deceased Catharine Masters.” He holds his position in preparation of another Bryn- led carving session. “Catharine – Penny’s mother – committed suicide shortly after she was relocated to Switzerland for treatment.”