He broke it.
He hurt me.
He did this!
Noises clanked beside me.
I didn’t look. I let my hair curtain the outside terrors. I didn’t glance at Jethro. I didn’t blink. I didn’t care.
All I cared about was nursing my battered body and surfing the tsunami of suffering.
Time ticked onward, dragging me further into this new world where I hugged a broken limb. He broke me. He struck me. And all for what? So he could use the wound as a suitcase for his disgusting diamonds.
“Give it to me, please.”
Cut’s voice cut through my horror.
I curled tighter around my injury. “Fuck you.” Tears shot to my eyes. Not again. Please, not again. I couldn’t handle that pain twice.
I should've agreed to the hand job. I should’ve got on my knees and performed the blow-job he’d commanded. I should’ve let him fuck me—even if it meant Jethro would forever remember my willingness to be raped.
That was what Cut whispered, what he’d promised. He’d vowed I would enjoy it. That if I gladly made him hard, if I obediently removed my clothing and spread my legs, he would make me come, moan, beg for more.
I didn’t believe him. How could I ever do that? How could I ever betray myself in such a way? But I couldn’t trust he wouldn’t play my body better than I could control it. I couldn’t know if the drug-liquor had left my system entirely, and I wouldn’t give in. My options had been submit and let Jethro leave Africa unhurt and alive. Or not agree and watch Cut rip him apart once he’d raped me anyway.
What good were options when they only offered one conclusion?
I’m sorry, Jethro.
He’d come to my rescue only to find Daniel had touched me and I’d touched his father. What a fucked-up situation to be in.
Cut leaned against the table, his fingers tucking my hair behind my ear. “It’s a simple fracture, Nila. You should be thankful I didn’t slice you open and insert my diamonds directly into your bloodstream.” His touch dropped, tracing an outline on my wrist. “You’ve kept all limbs. You’ve retained your precious body. This is merely a means to the final end.”
I looked up, shaking with anger. The pain plaited with rage as I stared him down. “One day, someone will do to you what you’ve done to others. Someday, your crimes will come back to visit you, and I hope I’m there to tell you to be thankful.”
Cut scowled. “If that day ever comes, Ms. Weaver, I can safely say you will not be in attendance.” Holding out his hand, he snapped, “Now, don’t make me ask again. Give me your arm.”
I twisted my body away, hugging my broken limb. “No.”
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
“You already did.”
“What does that tell you?”
I didn’t reply.
He growled, “It tells you I’ll rectify the pain I’ve caused. I have no doubt after each debt Jethro would’ve tended to you. Am I right? He would’ve fixed his wrongs and ensured you were healthy to continue.”
My mouth fell open. “You’re sick.”
I couldn’t stop my eyes flying to Jethro. In my haze of pain, I hadn’t given him attention. I hadn’t seen him thrashing on the floor, desperately trying to get free. I hadn’t witnessed him covering himself in mine dust, furious tears tracking mud down his cheeks.
Oh, Kite.
My heart hurt almost as much as my arm.
Cut pointed to the equipment on the table. “Open your eyes, Nila. What do you think this stuff is?”
Despite myself, I looked closer. Before, the items made no sense…now, they began to.
Gauze, water, padding, and medical packets with jargon stating their contents as plaster strips.
A cast.
He’s going to make you a cast.
I sniffed, fighting back another wash of agony. “If you’re honestly going to set my arm, I want painkillers first.”
I expected a scoff and refusal. But Cut merely nodded and opened a small plastic case. Popping out two tablets from a blister foil, he handed them to me with a bottle of water. “They’re codeine. You’re not allergic, are you?”
I bared my teeth. “Why? You going to care if I have a reaction?”
He frowned. “Despite what I’ve just done, I want you to remain well. We have a long journey ahead of us, and your pain needs to be managed accordingly—minus any allergies.”
I swallowed my fear. “Long journey?”
Cut nodded as I threw the tablets into my mouth and drank. The water slipped down my parched throat like liquid life. I hadn’t eaten or drunk in so long. Too long. The water splashed in my stomach, reminding me how empty it was.
“I didn’t break your arm for fun, Nila.” Cut shoved away the plastic container, ripping open a packet of plaster strips a moment later. “I told you. We smuggle diamonds. We’re going home, and I want to take a few high-quality stones with me. They’re larger than normal and rare. I want to keep them with me at all times.”
“With you at all times? Me, you mean?” Another wave of pain made me hiss.
Cut dumped the plaster into the fresh bucket of water. Steam gently rose from the surface.
“Yes, you.” He busied himself with opening packets and preparing to set my broken bone. I didn’t know what to think. He’d pre-empted this. He’d sat down logically, cool-headedly, and planned to break my arm then gathered enough supplies to fix it in the same location.
Who does that?
The answer dripped with sarcasm. A Hawk.
Once his supplies were in order and the plaster reaction had ceased, Cut held up a plastic splint. Three sides, smooth and well formed, with little compartments hidden where my arm would rest.
“Now you know I’m not going to hurt you, will you give me your arm?”
I hugged my wrist, looking at Jethro rejected in the dirt. “Let him go.”
Cut looked over his shoulder before glancing back. “No. Now, give me your arm.”
Shakes stole my body, shock trying to erase everything that’d happened. “Please, at least untie him.”
Jethro looked in pain, squashed on his side. I dreaded to think how he coped with my internal and external screams when Cut broke my arm.
Had he felt it?
Had he lived through it like Vaughn used to whenever I fell and hurt myself?
Shit, Vaughn.
He always knew when I’d broken something. Twin intuition. Would he ache in his right arm in sympathy? Would he terrorize England trying to find me, or worse, stampede Hawksridge Hall trying to save me?
Cut laughed. “Why? So he can stupidly attack me and get himself re-killed in the process?” He rolled his eyes.
It was such a juvenile, simple thing to do that it sent chills scattering down my spine.
His temper thickened. “I won’t ask again, Nila. Arm. Now.”
The painkillers already siphoned into my blood thanks to no food delaying the absorption. I had no other choice but to let Cut fix me.
Not that there was any fixing me. Not after the past six months.
Gingerly, breathing hard through my nose and hissing through my teeth, I gently laid my arm in the three-sided cast.
Cut tutted. “No, not in there. Not yet.” Slipping it free, he opened the opaque ziplock bag and pulled out multiple black velvet pouches. Holding one up, he smiled. “In each of these parcels rests over one million pounds worth of stones—total of five million.” His eyes landed on my diamond collar. “Almost as priceless as the gems around your neck.”
Meticulously, he slipped the parcels into the sections cut out of the plastic splint. “They’ll be hidden. They’re not metallic, so they won’t set off the alarm, and they won’t be inside you, so they won’t show up on the body scanners.”
Alarms?
Body scanners?
He’s going to fly me home and force me to lie to airport security.
A terrified lump lodged in my throat. “They’ll catch me.”
Cut shook his head. “I have full belief you’ll be fine. The nervous sweats will be blamed on the new break. The waxy pallor of your cheeks on overwhelming pain. They might ask you questions, but they won’t find anything untoward with the cast. You’ll see.”
Tears prickled my eyes at the trials I still faced. My lips twisted with hate. “You could’ve just put me in a fake cast. No one would know the difference.”
Cut cupped my face, holding me firm. “Wrong. People can tell. Liars are spotted easily in airports. And besides, we’ll have an extra arsenal that will prove our tale isn’t false.”
I ripped out of his hold, gasping at more pain. “What’s that?”
Cut inspected inside the bucket, lifting out the plaster strips to rest in a plastic tray. “We’ll have x-rays stating your accident, evidence of the fracture, and time and date.”
My eyes widened. “How?” I scoffed at the dirty cave. “You’re telling me you have a state of the art x-ray machine down here, too?” A half-crazed, half-diabolical laugh escaped me. “Not only a diamond smuggler but doctor, biker president, and doting father as well. Is there anything you can’t do?”
Cut narrowed his eyes. “Careful, Nila. Just because you’re in pain, it doesn’t mean I can’t discipline you. I demand respect at all times. You’d do well to remember that while we travel home together. When you go through security, I’ll be with you. When you board and land, I'll be beside you. You won’t be free and you’d be wise to hold your tongue.” He pointed a finger at Jethro. “Otherwise, he doesn’t live like I promised. Obey me, and he survives. Pull something stupid and he dies.” He shrugged. “Stupidly simple.”
Stupidly simple?
How about I kill you on the plane?
That would be stupid as I’d end up in jail for the rest of my life. But so simple because Cut would no longer be breathing.
I laughed sarcastically. “Sounds as if you’ve thought of everything.”
His forehead furrowed, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he ignored me in favour of inserting the diamond packets and layering soft padding over the compartments. Even if airport security shone a light or poked a stick in my cast, they wouldn’t find the stones.
Cut held up the tampered cast. “Now you can place your arm inside.”
My heart raced, but I did as I was told, breathing a sigh of relief as the gentle cushioning helped soothe some of the pain.
Cut grinned. “See, I told you I’d make it right.”
My voice transformed into scissors, cutting him into pieces. “Just because you’re tending to me now doesn’t mean I forgive you for before.”
Jethro groaned, dragging my attention to him. His beautiful golden eyes were dull and anger-filled. Love linked us together, forged stronger despite such adversity.
He’d proposed to me.
I’d say yes to him.
Yet, horribly, time was running out.
Once Cut had immobilized my injury, I had no doubt we wouldn’t be in Africa much longer. He would want to get home. He would want to finish whatever else he’d planned.
Will he carry out the Final Debt before he partakes in the Third?
I shuddered. How wrong was it that I hoped he would kill me instead of rape me? I should value my life over anything my body was subjected to. But having Cut inside me wouldn’t just be physical; it would be mental and spiritual, too. It would mess me up completely knowing he’d been with my mother and killed her. Then done the same with me.
I’ll kill him before that happens.
The memory of stabbing Daniel in the heart granted me a much-needed boost. I’d been terrified of him. Yet, I’d won. I could do the same with Cut.
Cut pressed down on my arm, making me cry out with pain. I flinched, trying to pull away. “Stop!”
His strong fingers ceased tormenting me. “Just making sure you’re wedged comfortably.”
“Bastard.” The curse fell beneath my breath.
If Cut heard me, he didn’t retaliate.
Letting me go, he layered another lot of padding on top of my arm, followed by the gauze. He wrapped it around and around, binding my arm into its new prison. Once it was secure, he placed surgical gloves on his fingers, and pulled out a strip of plaster from the drying tray.
“Don’t move.”
I didn’t respond as he industriously wrapped warm, wet plaster around my broken limb. The chemical reaction offered hot comfort to the throbbing ache, and I relaxed a little as the painkillers worked their magic.
It didn’t take long. In the past, the doctors would wrap three or four layers of plaster around my cast, ensuring no way could I break or damage myself further. However, Cut only wrapped two layers, finishing off the top with a gauze sleeve, smoothing the plaster with wet fingers.
“There. Don’t twist or move your arm for sixty minutes while it hardens.”
I wanted to laugh. He knew how to apply basic medical help. But his bedside manner was atrocious. No doctor had ever caused his patient’s injury in the first place.
Sitting upright after leaning forward for Cut to work on my cast, I held it away from me to dry but wanted to hug it close. For some reason, a hug—even from me—helped the pain fade.
My eyes soared to Jethro. His face was red and furious; his eyes glassy with sorrow.
I’m fine.
You’re not.
I’ll live.
You better.
I smiled at the last silent message. I would live because I deserved to. Jethro, too. We would find each other again—even with imminent separation about to tear us apart.
Washing his hands in a fresh bucket of water, Cut smiled at his handiwork. “All done.” His eyes glinted. “How does it feel to be a millionaire with so many diamonds against your skin?”
I tapped the collar condescendingly. “Like I’ve felt ever since Jethro put the Weaver Wailer on me.”
I looked at Jethro shooting an apology. I didn’t mean that in a bad way.
He squeezed his eyes, flinching against the memories of our fucked-up beginning.
Cut nodded. “That’s a fair comment. You’ve worn more diamonds than most Hawks in their lifetimes.” He cocked his head at Jethro. “Did you notice Kite’s lapel pin? That two carat diamond was handed down for generations. I gave it to him on his sixteenth birthday when he assured me he had his condition under tight control. I wanted nothing more than to believe him.” His voice softened. “I know you can’t comprehend it, but I do love my son, Nila. More than you’ll know.”
I snorted. “Did you love Kes when you shot him? Or Daniel when you let him grow up believing he was an unwanted mistake?”
Cut froze. “What do you know about that?”
Unwittingly, I handed weight to my previous lie. “I told you. We shared the night together. He shared a little of his past. He opened up to me because I gave him what he needed.”
Jethro didn’t move on the floor.
For the first time, Cut paused. His eyes narrowed as his brain mulled over my answer. He looked unsure…contemplating it might be the truth, after all.
I doubted he would ever find Daniel’s remains. I might get away with his murder, all thanks to a hunting party of lionesses.
I never knew nature can be such a competent alias.
“Regardless, when Daniel is found, I’ll learn the truth and shall decide on your punishment.” Cut dried his hands and ran both through his white hair. “Now the Fourth Debt has been paid, it’s time for us to depart.”
Striding across the cave, he squatted by Jethro and swatted his son’s dirty cheek. “Make yourself at home. I’ll give the staff instructions to release you once we’ve been at Hawksridge for a few days and there’s no way for you to interfere.” Standing, he smiled at me. “All you have to do, Nila, is get through security with my diamonds still in your possession and your lover will remain alive. That’s not too much to ask, is it?”
I slid off the chair, wobbling a little with vertigo and residual pain.
&
nbsp; Moving toward Jethro, I ached to hug him, kiss him, tell him I loved him and always would. But Cut stopped me half way, planting a stern hand on my breastbone. “No. Say your goodbyes from a distance.”
I shook my head. “Why can’t I touch him? What harm can it do?”
Cut clenched his jaw. “More harm than I’d like.”
“You know I have no weapons to give him.” My temper surged. “You know I have a broken arm and am suffering a serious case of shock. Let me say a proper goodbye. You owe me that.”
Cut breathed hard, preventing my path. But slowly, he nodded. “Fine.”
The minute he’d cleared my trajectory, I rushed forward and landed on my knees. My good hand tugged at the awful duct tape around Jethro’s mouth. “Breathe.” That was all the warning I gave him.
With a quick rip, I tore the stickiness away from his five o’ clock shadow and yanked out the disgusting gag.
He hacked and spluttered, sucking in a noisy breath.
Cut stomped forward, towering over me. “Nila fucking Weaver—”
I glared at him, balling the sodden gag and throwing it at his face. My left arm never had strong coordination, and the toss ended up soaring past his cheek. “He can barely breathe. Shut up! Letting him talk won’t change things, you monster.”
“Needle—” Jethro coughed, spittle landing on his chin.
Needle.
The name I’d asked him to call me so many months ago when I didn’t know he was Kite007. Tears sprang to my eyes. “I’m here.”
I wished I could sit him upright, but he’d broken the chair and without cutting the ropes, I couldn’t help him.
God, I hate this. All of this.
Jethro smiled, grimacing with pain. “Fuck, Nila, I’m—”
I placed a shaking finger over his dried lips. “Don’t. I know.”
We shared an endless look, weighted with past and present. The unsaid words sank into my soul like a heavy anchor, lodging itself in my heart forever.
Bending over him, I brushed my lips against his temple. His bloody temple from the car crash. How badly was he injured? His forehead still burned from his fever and the gunshot wound on his side hadn’t scabbed.
He needs help. And fast.
Glancing at Cut, I begged, “Please, bring him with us. He needs a doctor.”
Final Debt Page 18