Page 53 of To Curse A Knight

Not my problem.Shewas my problem, and she’d presumably made a phone call. Which meant Hillary could be fucked.

If Hillary was fucked, we were all fucked.

Shecame to with a jolt and a startled cry as she whipped her head around in confusion. Her watery gaze landed on me, the stark reflection of betrayal in her eyes.

Before she could get out a word, I crouched beside her, my large body looming over her frail, shivering form.

“Before we go any further, I’m going to need a few answers.”

I stared through her, my lips curled into a snarl of disgust like she was a piece of dog shit under an expensive shoe. She cowered beneath me, exhausted, and likely near hypothermia. Her one shot at freedom had been taken from her within seconds.

“Who did you call just now?”

A determined glint entered her eyes, and she made a show of clamping her lips shut, as if realizing there wasn’t a chance in hell she was ever making it back home.

“Dying of hypothermia is a peaceful way to go.” I fingered the edge of the blanket, tugging it away from her skin.

The steely resolve faltered when I took her only source of security. But it was replaced by bitter, feral hatred. I wasn’t going to get anywhere with this woman.

Stubbornness in the face of death was valiant by some, stupid by others. For her, it was stupid.

Releasing a long puff of breath into the freezing air, I hauled out my phone and dialed Hillary’s number. She answered on the first ring.

“Rodriguez has the man,” I growled into the receiver. “I have the woman.”

“Oh, thank god.” The relief in her voice was palpable. Pride made its way into my heart, knowing I could give this to her. That I had kept her safe.

“I need to know what she did.” I shifted the phone between my neck and shoulder as I hauled the woman up from her perch on the snow. Pushing her in front of me, I urgedher on frostbitten feet forward through the trees ahead of us.

I’d never killed a woman before—not intentionally as a premeditated murder. If today was going to be the first, I needed to be damn well sure she deserved the bullet through her heart.

“She sent four children in protection back to Alvarez’s people.” Hillary’s tone was clipped, the rage in her voice filtering through the phone line and settling deep into my belly. “And she was going to send more.”

Familiar darkness ballooned in my brain, taking over all of my senses with the primal need to kill.

“Still dead or alive?” I asked, watching the woman’s head snap back at the question, like a rabbit sensing the wolf right behind her. She took off— ‘at a run’ would be a stretch, given she hobbled over the thorny landscape—but she clearly read the writing on the wall.

“Yes.” Hillary’s answer was quick and fierce, the permission I needed to rid the world of another piece of filth.

I watched the limping woman run desperately away from me, practically tasting her terror on the air.

“Got it. I’ll see you back at the ranch.”

I hung up and stuffed the phone back into my pocket. Pulling out Old Faithful and its silencer, I screwed it on tight, watching the little rabbit get further and further away.

Throwing the blanket over my shoulder, I took off after her, gaining ground within seconds. She pushed on, tearing her t-shirt against bare branches and stumbling into the crunchy snow at her feet.

I held out the gun to aim at her skull, not needing her to turn around. I didn’t need see the light leave her eyes; I took no pleasure in this kill. My only gratification from her death was to protect the woman I loved.

Myfinger released the trigger, and the muffled shot exited the chamber and entered the soft tissue of her brain. Her body went stiff, even as it sagged to the ground.

I pocketed the gun and drew out my knife. Slicing long cuts down her arms and torso, I let the smell of fresh blood carry on the wind. Wolves or cougars would ensure all evidence was gone by morning.

Sticky wetness coated my pant leg. I looked down to my thigh bleeding into the fabric of my jeans. Before I could bleed out into the snow and leave a trail for some wayward sap to follow, I ripped a strip from the blanket and tied it around my leg in the best makeshift tourniquet I could manage. Then I buried the rest of the blanket underneath her body.

I left the scene of the crime immediately and followed my compass back to Hillary’s bunker. A full ninety minutes later, I was back at my Jeep. Hillary’s Jaguar was parked haphazardly at the building’s entrance.

They’d made it back in record time; I hadn’t expected her for another hour at least. The sun was about to rise and we still had one more prisoner to take care of, provided Rodriguez hadn’t already killed him.

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