“I expect a follow-up call as soon as you’re able,” Harry reminds me.
“I’ll phone back to confirm everything was in order.”
“I love you.” We didn’t cipher anything for this one.
“Thank you.” I want to tell him how much I love him but this will have to do.
I return the untraceable burner phone to its hidden compartment within my bag. I walk the guest room floor as I go over my plan in my head one last time. Thane’s working late in his office. He drinks bourbon, at least three, every night so his reflexes and mental status are sluggish. I’m going to knock and enter. He’ll be on low alert, not expecting me to have any motive other than a request to talk. I’m going to tell him who I am before I kill him. I’ll recount all the details about that night—how I heard the fired shots while I was hiding beneath my bed, the devastation of watching him kill my beloved dog, and how frightened I was as he held a pillow over my face. When I finish, I’m going to order him to his knees. I hope he begs me to not kill him when I place the barrel of my gun to his temple.
Time to do this.
I walk the hall and do just as I’ve strategized. I knock and listen for him to tell me to enter.
It’s while I’m standing there waiting for Thane to respond that I realize I’ve traded my life and all I love for this moment. My entire existence has been dedicated to this execution and I’m suddenly overcome by emotions I don’t understand. My purpose in life is ending. What will I possibly do once this is over? This is the close of a lifelong mission—the death of my dream. I should be happy, or at least satisfied, but I’m not.
There’s no reply from within so I knock again, still without an answer. I open the door and go inside to find a sleeping Thane on his sofa. Correction: a passed-out Thane since he reeks of bourbon.
He’s making his extermination too easy for me. But this isn’t the way I want it. Killing an incoherent Thane will be less than satisfying. I need him to be looking into the eyes of the little girl he wronged as he dies. It’s how I’ve envisioned it my entire life and I don’t think anything less will fulfill me.
“Wake up, Thane.” I nudge his shoulder but he doesn’t budge. “Wake up. I want to see fear in your eyes when I put a bullet in your head.”
He stirs and a photograph falls from his hand face down onto the floor. I pick it up—what does a man like him hold dear? What does he clench to his heart while drinking until he passes out?
It’s him with my mother. They’re embracing, smiling, in front of the entrance to a casino. They look … happy. In love.
Why is he clutching this photograph? Perhaps his actions have plagued him for the last eighteen years. I hope so.
I place the barrel of my gun against his temple, just the way I’ve planned all these years. I hesitate, something I didn’t anticipate, and it has everything to do with Sinclair.
If I kill Thane, the mission is over and there’ll be no reason to stay. My time with Sin will be over—the last grain of sand will fall through our hourglass. I’m suddenly aware of how unprepared I am to walk away from him.
I can’t do this—not yet. I haven’t had all the time I want with Sin.
“Dammit to hell!” I take my gun away from Thane’s head. “This is your lucky day.” Only because I love your son.
I’m standing over Thane, gun in hand, when the door opens.
“What are you doing in here, lass?” Isobel asks. Her eyes move to the gun in my hand. “Where did you get that?”
I do the only thing I can. Lie. “I couldn’t sleep. I was on my way to the kitchen for a tea when I saw the light. I let myself in. I shouldn’t have but I’m glad I did. Thane was holding this. I was afraid of his intentions so I took it from him.”
“Blootered dunderheid.” She takes the gun from me, shaking her head. “I’ll see to this. Go to the living room and let’s have a whisky together. It’ll help you to sleep better than tea.”
“Please don’t mention this to Thane. I don’t want him to know I saw him like this.”
She goes to his desk and puts the gun in the top drawer. I’ll need to come back in and retrieve it before Thane finds it. “I won’t. It’ll be our little secret.”
I have a nightcap with Isobel and curse myself as I return to my room. I can’t believe I got my gun taken away. I hope Thane had lots of bourbon since I’ll be going back in after Isobel is in bed.
Once inside, I phone Harry. “Hey, Dad. I have great news. Sinclair is being discharged from the hospital tomorrow.” This isn’t a conversation we’ve rehearsed so I’m winging it.
“Is it done?”
“I’m afraid not.” I hope Harry isn’t disappointed in me.
“Nothing went wrong?” I’m glad we aren’t having a real conversation. I’m not sure how I’d tell him there was a problem—but it was my heart.
“All is well but his recovery is going to take a little longer than expected.”
“I shouldn’t worry?” he asks.
“Not at all.”
“Okay. When you’re in the clear, call me ASAP so we can make revisions.”
“Absolutely. I’ll give Sin your best.”
I dread making that call. I don’t want to lie to Harry but there’s no way I can tell him I couldn’t go through with killing Thane because I’m in love with his son. He’d never understand that.
Sinclair is simultaneously all I could want in a man while I despise everything that makes him the person he is. I’m straddling two worlds. Love versus hate—and I’m not sure which is stronger.
Despite his dirty deeds, I think Sin is it for me—the one and only love of my life. My heart tells me so every time I look at him. The feelings I experience when we’re together are everything I’ve always imagined when I pictured myself in love, minus the part where my beloved will be the next leader of an organized crime empire.
I did not see this perfect storm coming.
Chapter Eighteen
Sinclair Breckenridge
“Would you like to lie on the couch or go to the bed?” Oh no. My mum didn’t play the coddling game and Bleu isn’t, either.
“Those are the only two choices I get?”
“Yes. The doctor says you need plenty of rest. I’m inclined to believe he knows what he’s talking about.” I guess she’s right since it’s possible he performed a miracle by bringing me back from the condition I was in a week ago.