'Brandt, for God's sake, kiss me. They're all waiting for that photo. Don't drag it out.'
Shit, I hadn't even noticed the crowd around us. Everyone is staring as though we're the entrée in their seven-course dinner, and they are expecting big things. They obviously haven't seen my dance moves. These poor people are about to be sorely disappointed. Giving it my best shot, I dip Helena towards the floor as the song comes to an end and cover her mouth with my own. A dozen camera flashes go off at once as our guests fill up their memory sticks.
Picking my wife up, I then waltz her around the dancefloor to the next song, and thankfully we're joined by a few others this time. I don't have to feel quite so conspicuous now.
'Francis,' I repeat. 'What do you know about him?' Thankfully this number is a slow one, so we've got plenty of time to be up close and personal while whispering sweet nothings in each other's ears.
'You taste like strawberry pavlova and Sumatran coffee,' Helena purrs, licking her lips. We're going off topic again.
'Answer my question and you get another taste,' I say, hoping that might motivate her to speak.
'I'm your wife, I'm going to get plenty of kisses.'
'Fine, play it your way.' Pushing her away from me I grab the nearest single woman and spin her around. That will piss my wife off. Sure enough, we haven't done two turns around the dancefloor and I can feel daggers slicing into my back. My little kitty has claws, but tonight I'm going to use them to my advantage. After the next song has ended I graciously dance with my mother-in-law to the delight of all our guests, before picking up the hot firefighter I met at the engagement party. Unless I am much mistaken, Helena's patience is about to come to an abrupt end any second now.
Sure enough, the next words I hear are 'Can I cut in?' Helena is standing between us, staring at my dance partner as if she has just grown horns. Hot firefighter blinks, and then hurriedly makes her excuses. She's a sensible lady.
'Don't play hardball with me,' Helena snipes as her claws sink into the tender flesh of my neck. I don't even blink. On the pain scale it barely registers these days.
Placing my hand on her ass and squeezing cruelly, I figure I'll return the favour. When her mouth opens to squeal in protest I cover it with my own. By the time the camera flashes have finished with us, she isn't squealing any more.
'Francis,' I repeat, as if we'd never left each other's arms, and when her face clouds over I give her a gentle nudge. 'Remember where we are. This is the happiest day of your life darling. Don't let them take a photo of that frown.'
She takes a breath and then gives me her most dazzling smile. 'Francis is an accountant. Happy now?' I nuzzle her neck while I pretend she is the most amazing woman on earth.
'Happier,' I confirm. 'What field? Tax, financial or management?' Does Mal want me to get rid of an accountant? It seems unlikely.
'Tax, I believe.' The lights dip above us and the music speeds up. More guests pile onto the floor, and all of a sudden we are crammed in a sea of gyrating bodies. The evening is wearing on and my time is running out. Still, I'm on the right track.
'Good girl,' I purr. 'See, that wasn't so hard, was it?' My hands feather over the back of her shoulders as they pull her closer to me. We might as well look like we're having fun.
'Do good girls get a reward? Can we work under an incentive scheme here?' Helena grinds herself up against me like a cat and though sex is the last thing on my mind, I need to keep her sweet.
'Sure. You scratch my back and I'll scratch yours, sweetness. What do you want in return?' I don't care what she wants. I'm not going to be alive long enough to deliver it, so she could ask for the moon and I'd say yes.
'I want to come with you when you do it.' Now there's a cerebral landmine.
'You want to what?' I heard what she said but I need it repeated, just to make sure.
'I want to watch. I've got a vested interest in you doing this right. If you fuck up I stand to lose you moments after I'm married. Fuck that.'
'So you want to get yourself killed at the same time? I don't think so. Think of something else.' It seems I was wrong about the moon part.
'But—'
I cut her off immediately. 'It's non-negotiable and there's nothing you can say that will make me change my mind. There are a million and one other things you could ask for, pick one of them.'
Helena stares at me, her arms stiffening around my body, before she once again relaxes. She's decided this isn't a war she needs to fight and thank God for that.
'Fine. Just keep me in the loop, okay?' That I can do. Mostly because she's going to be my eyes and ears for this operation anyway.
'Agreed. One more question.' My hand reaches up to brush against the underside of her breast and she gasps. Thankfully no one can hear her over the loud roar of thumping bass, but I can feel her body tighten in desire. In another lifetime it might have been reciprocated, but she's from a life I've long since left behind. I no longer remember the person I was way back then, and I think she's coming to realise that.
'Fire away.' Helena's voice is raspy now, and she feels like liquid in my arms. Her body does exactly what I tell it to do, as if it has no will of its own. She can't be in love with me because we don't know each other that well, but she certainly feels something for me. I haven't been immune to the looks I've been getting since I got out of prison, so I guess there's something about muscles and tatts that turn women on. Even Harper looks at me differently. She's always had those faraway eyes that look at me as if I'm a God, but now the desire I see there is my undoing. Every time I look at her I want to sink every part of my body inside her. It's a primal feeling. I know what lust is, but what I share with her is something more. It's something that can't be replicated with anyone else. Unfortunately for Helena, she comes in a very poor second. If I saw her in the street I wouldn't even give her the time of day.
'Tell me about Francesca.' I've purposefully left the elephant in the closet until last. It's obvious Helena doesn't like Francesca, and now is the perfect time to find out why.
Pursing her lips, my darling wife draws back from me. 'She's a viper.' When she makes a move to escape me I capture her wrists and drag her back into my arms. When she's so close that no one can see what's going on between us, I tweak her nipple beneath the thin lace bra she's wearing.
Circling the little nub around and around, until it makes a pretty little point beneath my fingertips, I bend my head close to her ear. 'And why do you dislike her so much?' I don't let her answer my question immediately, choosing to return my lips to hers, to keep her off balance. I want the truth. I don't want her to think too much. When I finally pull my mouth away she is breathing hard and her lips are glazed. She's also a little unsteady on her feet, but I pretend not to notice.
'God, you do that well,' she chokes out. I resist the urge to tell her Gabriel taught me everything I know. She is not someone I want to share my past with.
'Francesca?' I prompt, keeping my hands moving across her body. 'Is she anyone of importance?'
'Not really,' she says with a sneer, 'although she likes to think she is.'
'So she can't be the one,' I say, with a sigh of relief. The last thing I want to do is kill a girl.
'I wouldn't be so sure,' Helena replies, shaking her head. 'While Francesca is just a little tramp who likes to whore herself out to anything that moves, her daddy is well-renowned in these circles for being the boss of a string of designer clothing boutiques.'
I give Helena an odd look. Mal is unlikely to want the daughter of a shopkeeper dead. I can't think he's looking to compete in that industry. The idea is almost laughable.
'Well, that settles it,' I say. 'It's got to be Francis.' Somewhere in the back of my head, though, I remember Mal saying something about bodyguards. Accountants aren't that important, are they?
Helena shakes her head. 'I don't think so. Francesca may not be anyone of note, but her old man is. Daddy is also the head of one of London's biggest crime families and is p
robably Mal's arch enemy these days. It looks like Mal wants to send a message.'
Oh shit. Oh fuck. He wants me to kill a mobster? I am never getting out of this hellhole alive. They'll have to scrape me up off the damn floor, piece by piece. That's if there's anything left worth scraping, and I suspect there won't be.
Chapter Fifteen - Brandt
The one good thing about your own wedding is that you get to leave early, and I am itching to ditch mine. Doing the rounds one final time, my bride and I thank everyone for coming and say our goodbyes. We are subjected to lots of rowdy claps and cheers as we head up the stairs to the honeymoon suite, and I do my best to ignore them. At the back of my mind, the whole way up those stairs, I am thinking that in a few minutes I will have to murder someone.
It's the perfect setting, really. Everyone's high on alcohol, there's loud music thumping away which might muffle any screams or gunshots and by the time I get out there again, everyone's getting tired and will be off their game. Who kills people at a wedding? You've got to be a pretty sick individual to do something like that.
Helena babbles on about something or other all the way back to our room. She doesn't seem at all bothered by the fact that I'm about to become a murderer, and instead she waxes lyrical about the highlights of our day. Seriously? I'm going to be dead in a couple of hours and all she can think about is how fabulous her cake was? Normally I'd probably have yelled at her by now, telling her to shut the fuck up, but nothing is normal about this evening. The last thing I need is her wailing and screaming, so I keep quiet and ignore her. If she's bothered by my lack of response, she doesn't mention it.
When we get to the room I pull the key card from my pocket and after the beep, push the handle inwards. There's an overpowering scent of lilies as I enter the room, and it seems the hotel has gone all out and put a massive bouquet of them on a black lacquered table in the middle of the hallway. It's nearly enough to give me a headache. Heading straight for the minibar, I grab the biggest bottle of water I can find and neck it in one go. While I'd dearly like to drown my sorrows in a mountain of alcohol, I don't dare. Very shortly it could mean the difference between life and death.
Meanwhile, Helena's heels come skittering towards me, sliding across the marble floor as she kicks them off one by one. There's then the rasp of a zipper and a frustrated mewl.
'Would you help me, darling?' she purrs. 'I can't seem to get this thing off.' Sidling up to me, she turns and rubs her body against mine. This is the last thing I need. Sex is most definitely not on my mind. But I guess I can help her out of her dress. At least it's not her wedding dress. After dinner she changed into a simple gold satin ballgown that hugs her figure in all the right places. A lot of men's eyes lingered on my bride, and I didn't feel the tiniest jot of jealousy. In fact, she could go and sleep with one of them now, and I wouldn't give a damn. Actually, she could sleep with ten of them, and I'd be glad they were taking her off my hands.
Lowering the zipper slowly, making sure I don't tear the fabric, I breathe a sigh of relief when the task is over. With any luck she'll want to go take a shower, and leave me to be miserable in peace.
'Where shall we make love, darling? You wanna do it on the bed, or try out the hot tub?' She then flings her naked body around me and attaches her lips to mine. Oh, God. This isn't happening. I don't push her away, not immediately. I know that however I handle this an argument is about to ensue, and I want to employ some damage control. While there is no way I am sleeping with Helena, ever, she doesn't need to know that. For now a decent excuse will do, and I have the perfect one.
'I can't Helena, not right now. I've got to go out there and kill a girl in a few minutes' time, and that's all I can think about.' I'm not even lying. Kissing her forehead, I gently push her away from me. Hopefully there won't be any screaming or slapping. I'm nearing the end of my tether as it is. All I can think about is Harper. What is Mal doing to her right now? Is he torturing her? Fucking her? Killing her? What if I can't hold up my end of the bargain? What then? You'll be dead, idiot, and so will she.
Helena pouts and gives me the wobbly lip, which means hysterics are about to follow unless a miracle happens. For a second I almost wish I was back in jail. Things were a lot simpler inside.
A sharp rap on the door wipes my darling wife's drama queen face clean off, so I guess miracles are real. In any case, I'm extremely thankful that we've delayed the bedroom chat until I'm more able to deal with it. Shooing Helena away to the safety of the bathroom, I stride forward to open the door.
Bad Suit Guy resides on the other side. He's looking considerably more rumpled than he did this morning, and he smells worse, too. Inwardly, I sigh.
'Can I help you?' I ask, trying my best to keep my temper under wraps. While this is a welcome intrusion, I suspect he's not here to give me any good news.
'No, but I can help you.' He hands me a bulky manila envelope, which weighs a ton, and says, 'Have you figured it out yet?' He can only mean one thing, so I don't bother to beat around the bush.
'Francis, the accountant?' I say, a little too optimistically.
Bad Suit Guy blinks at me. 'Mal said you were intelligent,' he says, frowning. Probably wondering how he's going to break the news of my new target to me.
'You want me to kill Francesca, the girl, right?' I decide to put him out of his misery. The longer he's here, the more chance there is of us being seen together.
He nods, obviously relieved.
'That's the one. They have a car coming for them at midnight. Make sure the job's done before then. Understood?' He turns around and walks away without waiting for confirmation.
'Is there any chance there's a getaway car waiting outside for me when this is all over?' I know there isn't, but I feel the need to get the last word in.
'No fucking chance,' is his quick reply, and in the next instant he's rounded a corner which pretty much puts an end to that conversation. Looks like he got the last word in, too. Fuck it.
The manila envelope contains a gun. A Beretta, according to the wording above the trigger. Staggering to the nearest sofa, I nearly fall into it as I realise how tonight is going to go down. God damn. What Mal failed to factor into this little equation is that I have no idea how to use a gun. I have no clue how to aim one. Yeah, I know you point the barrel at your target, but I figure you need a bit of practise to shoot someone where it hurts. If the little lady I'm expected to kill has bodyguards, the first shot has to count. If I miss, I'm not going to get a second chance. Perhaps this was what Mal had been hoping for all along. The likelihood of the rich kid falling at the first hurdle is almost guaranteed. Then he can break the good news to Harper.
When I hear the sound of the shower running full pelt in the bathroom, I am relieved to find my wife is occupied for the time being. Turning the gun over in my hand, I wonder if I'll actually be able to use it. Is the thing even loaded? I assume so, but have no clue how to check. I might need a five-minute tutorial to get to grips with the thing. As it is, it feels like dynamite in my hand. I don't want to touch it, much less use it, and I need to get over it. Yes, the girl is a kid, but she's part of a crime family that extorts money and kills people for a living. They pump the streets full of drugs and put knives and guns in the hands of dangerous people. I'll actually be doing society a favour. Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Brandt.
The shower stops and Helena walks out, her eyes zeroing in on my present.
'Wow.' That wasn't the word I'd have used, but I'm not going to contradict her. 'It's a nice piece, that. Have you used a Beretta 92 before?' She walks over to me, wrapped in nothing more than a towel, and sits down in my lap. The woman doesn't seem at all bothered that I'm holding a gun. If the situation had been reversed, I'd like to think I might be a bit more concerned.
'No, have you?' I'm guessing she isn't completely clueless as she spotted the brand and make of the gun from halfway across the room.
'Yes. Obviously not in the UK because they're banned over here,
but my cousin owns a ranch in Texas. He taught me how to use one. I didn't fire it at anything other than tin cans, but I do know how it works. All I've done here is clay pigeon shooting.' Helena is one step ahead of me then.
'Great. So show me how to use the thing.' I hand her the gun.
She then proceeds to show me how to make sure it's loaded and how to aim by lining up the sights. Bar pulling the trigger, this is all I need to know, she tells me.
'Seriously, this will be a piece of cake, Brandt. We'll shoot her and get the hell out.' Her fingers find the nape of my neck and she curls her hands around me, before kissing me on the lips. I let her; we're on the same side for the moment.
'There is no 'we', Helena. You are staying here.' She pulls away from my lips before giving me a mulish look. She then shakes her head at me.
'If you think I'm staying here while you—'
I cut her off.
'Promise me, Helena.' There is no way the two of us are going down. It's bad enough that I've managed to get myself into this mess in the first place. There's no way she's getting involved too. I've accepted the fact that I'm not coming out of this alive, but I'm sure as hell not taking anyone with me.
'Brandt, I'm part of this too. You need to let me—'
'Promise me.' I'm not taking no for an answer. If I have to I'll tie her up and leave her here, but there's no way she's following me.
Helena looks at me, and something in my eyes must convince her I'm serious because she backs down. 'Okay, fine, I'll stay here, but please be careful. Those guys don't mess around. You need to get the girl first time and run.' She isn't telling me anything I don't already know.
'I'll be fine,' I say, lying.
'I know you will,' she says, gazing at me adoringly. 'There is no way you're dying on me before we've even been married a day.'
That's where she's wrong, but I don't contradict her. What I do need to do is get away from her ASAP.
'Right. I'd better get moving. The sooner this is over with the better.' Gently depositing her on her own two feet, I decide I'd better get dressed. I'm going to be a little bit conspicuous in my wedding attire.
Beautiful Tyrant (Enemies to Lovers - Dark Romance Book 3) Page 14
