Page 41 of His Sweet Torment
“You shoulda just died, kid. It ain’t gonna be pretty from now on,” Henry said softly. Dale held his breath until he heard the door close then opened his eyes. His hand fumbled for the call button, and when the nurse arrived, he tried to speak.
“Hold on honey let me just wet your mouth.”
A blissful wetness on his lips. “Severin,” he said, in barely a whisper, “please get Severin now…”
When Severin rushed to his side, he stared up at her with pain-filled eyes and began to cry. “He’s going to get her killed, Sev, oh god…oh god…”
Henry was waiting with a limousine on the tarmac at SeaTac as Enver’s private jet flew in. Padme knew Enver was nervous; as they alighted the plane, she saw his eyes raking the scene, looking for danger. She squeezed his hand. “Stop. It’ll be okay.”
Henry hugged Padme. “Can’t tell you how good it is to see you, Padme.”
She smiled at him. “You too, Henry, sorry we had to go through all that to get me out of the country.”
“Where were you, out of interest?”
Padme looked at Enver, who cleared his throat. “We’d rather not say, Henry, you know? Just in case.”
Henry smiled. “Of course, look, we have arranged a safe house outside Seattle. Pad, Severin is waiting for you there.”
Padme looked astonished and overwhelmed. “You told her?”
Henry shrugged. “She came to me, said she knew you were alive and that I had something to do with it. Something about the DNA on the body we used…anyhoo, I thought you could use another friendly face. Enver, your men are stationed along the route and are at the house. I’ll be driving you there myself.”
Enver was surprised. “You will?”
Henry gave him an expansive smile. “I just don’t trust anyone else to do it.”
He motioned for them to get into the limousine. Padme held Enver’s hand in the back of the car as they set off.
Severin. Soon she would see her mother again, and it should have filled her with joy but something was off, and she couldn’t pin down what it was. She looked at the back of Henry’s head was it odd that he, the head of their field office, Henry, who was high up on the F.B.I. ladder would do something as menial as driving them to a safe house.
When she had spoken to him on the phone, he had agreed that coming home was best. “You can’t run forever, Pad.”
He’d agreed so easily that something hadn’t sat right with Padme since but this was Henry she was talking about, her mentor, her guide.
Still, she had pushed forward with their plans now they were heading to what Padme hoped would only be a temporary home. Ingles must know they were back already; she didn’t doubt that he had spies all over the airport. They had made the decision to fly back in Enver’s private plane, had filed a flight plan the day before. The wheel had been set in motion, and now they had to follow through.
Henry chatted happily, but neither Enver or Padme felt like talking. As they drove up to the small house Henry had procured, it was dusk. Henry helped Padme out of the car and she smiled her thanks. A shock ran through her when she saw Henry’s smile did not reach his eyes and somehow sheknew.She turned to speak to Enver, to try and warn him, but Henry clamped his hand over her mouth and dragged her toward the house as a gang of men rushed Enver. He had no time to react.
Henry dragged a struggling Padme into the house. “I’m sorry, Pad, but it has to be this way.”
Padme kicked and bit, but Henry was too strong for her. He threw her to the floor of the living room, and she felt a hand under her chin as her face was tilted upwards. Frederick Ingles smiled at her. “Beautiful Padme, how nice of you to join me for your real murder…”
Enver was dragged inside, and he too struggled against his captors. “Motherfuckers!Figli di puttana!”
He saw Henry Jones come out of the living room. “You son of a bitch!”
Henry slammed his fist into Enver’s face. “Mind your manners, asshole. Give Mr. Ingles a little time to prepare Miss. Kaur for her murder, then take this piece of shit in to watch.”
Enver spat at Henry who ignored it. “She trusted you,” Enver growled, beyond angry now. “How can you do this to her?”
“Do what?” Henry asked. “She’s already dead – I know because I read the eulogy at her funeral.”
He walked out, and Enver struggled with his captors until they heard Frederick Ingles call “Bring Toscano in.”
Enver, his mouth full of blood, went cold when he saw Padme tied to a chair, her shirt torn open. Frederick gestured to the chair opposite her. “Put him there. I want him to get a good seat to watch her bleed.”
Padme met Enver’s eyes; they were full of sorrow. “I’m sorry,” she said, “this is my fault.”
