Page 25 of Captured By the Mafia Boss
Every instinct shouts that this is wrong as I walk with slow steps to Henry. As soon as I’m within reach, his fingers are on my upper arm like a vice and the barrel of the gun is at my throat.
Again, I should be afraid. But all I have is determination and the raw knowledge that I will do anything to save King, then I’lldo everything to get back to him. Nothing and no one, certainly not a useless coward like Henry, will stop me.
“I have my bride.” He yanks me to him as he addresses King. “We’re leaving. If you try something, I’ll shoot her.”
Fuck.
I manage to glance back at King as Henry drags me from the house, me tripping over myself to stay with him. My glimpse of Ethan’s face shows pure fear and horror.
I try to transmit one simple message to him.Trust me. I can do this.
And I pray he received it.
“Where are we going?” Henry takes me up a rough track. In my bare feet I’m struggling to keep up, and quite soon I’m going to be bloodied.
“There’s a road in a few miles,” Henry replies, not looking at me. His fingers dig painfully into my arm and the gun hasn’t wavered from my neck. “I’ve missed you, Olivia.”
“Where’s my dad?”
“Don’t worry, Steven saw to him. We thought you were with him, which is why I didn’t come for you sooner, darling. I’m glad I got you away.”
And that’s when I’m certain he’s lying. Because it wouldn’t matter what happened. My father would have contacted me, were he still alive.
Henry blathers, and I don’t know whether he’s talking to himself or to me. Something about nobility and fortune. I’m not listening. I’m wondering how to get that gun off him. The path takes us around the hill and eventually I see a red SUV. Subtle.
“I won’t have my fiancée wearing my enemy’s clothes,” he says as he opens the boot, revealing the outfit I put on to go swimming. It’s a summer dress and a lightweight coat perfect for any conditions. With a surprisingly weighted hem.
“Thank you,” I murmur. And though my knife is missing from the ensemble, my heart rate spikes. Because in that unusually heavy hem is stitched a blade.
Trudy gave me this long coat. And I can’t believe I never made the connection before. Of course King didn’t murder his brother. It was Trudy who taught me about flowers and plants, and casually, amongst that, she showed me which plants were poisonous, or would cause fits, or visions.
I make myself sound contrite and sweet. Unassuming. “Could I have a moment alone to change?”
Henry’s mouth twitches with annoyance.
“Please.” I cast my gaze down in faux modesty and make my voice tremble. “I didn’t get any privacy with King.”
And that’s true. Justabsolutelywhat I wanted.
I dive for the coat as soon as Henry’s back is turned and find the irregular place in the hem. It’s the work of a second to use the point of the knife to cut it out of the fabric. It’s a short blade with the simplest handle imaginable, and it fits in my hand.
I don’t change my clothes; I’m King’s woman now. But I shove my painful feet into my shoes and almost cry at the relief. Then I turn and look at the back of the man I once assumed I’d marry.
“Henry,” I say, throwing my voice off the car as I creep up to him. He’s looking out into the dark, where we came from.
“What?” he snaps.
Then the knife is at his throat. “Drop the gun.”
“Olivia.” He stills. “You don’t want to do this.”
I press the blade and it’s sharper than it looks. A line of red trickles down to his collar.
“Where did you get that?” There’s panic—outright panic—in his voice.
“Your mother sends her compliments.”
“No!” Henry shudders, and drops the gun. I kick it, hard, and in the dark I don’t see where it lands. In bushes somewhere to my right.
