by Meghan March
I cover my face with both hands and focus on breathing. Counting to ten. Trying to let the anger recede.
It doesn’t work.
Eloping with Brett was the one impulsive decision I’ve made in my life. I thought meeting him was fate. He was so perfect for me from day one, I couldn’t help but believe the world had destined us to be together. And after that incredible night . . .
I shake off the memories. I was such a naive little idiot.
“I wish I could bring him back to life so I could kill him myself,” I whisper.
Magnolia aims another indulgent smile my way. “Sweetie, if he were still alive, you know I’d chop off his pathetic excuse for a dick with a meat cleaver.”
“What the hell am I going to do?” I ask her as I begin pacing the marble floor.
Magnolia’s head swivels back and forth as she watches me. “Ke-ke . . . this shit is serious.”
I spin around to face her. “I know. I need five hundred thousand dollars or I’m fucked. How the hell do I get a half million dollars in a week? No bank in this town will loan me another cent with the debt I already have.”
She clasps her hands together in front of the silk belt knotting her peach robe closed. “I’m gonna get real with you. Even if you were a virgin, there’s no way we could organize a payday like that so quick.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. Auction myself off? A shudder of disgust slithers down my spine. Even that’s not an option because I’m not worth that much. I look up and meet her tawny gaze.
“Brett got five hundred thousand in a week. I have to be able to do it too.”
“No one is gonna give you that money.” Her face is solemn.
“What about another extension? A payment plan?” I jam my hands into my hair as I attempt to think of all other possible options.
“Girl, you don’t need me to tell you that isn’t gonna solve your problem.”
I cross my arms over my chest, hugging them tight around me before walking backward until my knees hit Magnolia’s leather sofa and I land on it.
“What if . . . what if I just don’t pay? What if I tell him that it was Brett’s problem and he’s dead, so leave me out of it?”
This time, Magnolia’s gorgeous golden face pales. “Keira,” she says, and I stiffen when she says my full name because she never says my full name. “You don’t want to go down that road.”
“I don’t have a choice! I don’t have the money.”
Magnolia crosses the room slowly and sits on the couch next to me. “The last woman who crossed Mount ended up in the morgue.”
Goose bumps prickle every inch of my skin as I swallow. “He killed her?”
Magnolia’s slow shake of her head sends an icy rush of fear into my veins.
“Mount doesn’t have to do his own dirty work anymore. But that bitch was sliced and diced. Died from blood loss.”
I picture a woman bleeding out in a dark alley, slit from ear to ear, but Magnolia continues.
“They say his people pumped her full of uppers and forced her to dance barefoot on broken glass until eventually she fell and managed to grab a shard. She slit her wrists herself just to end it.”
My stomach rolls as I picture the brutality in vivid color. I bolt off the couch with my hand over my mouth, making a mad dash to the bathroom.
Magnolia is behind me in moments, pulling my thick red hair away from my face. “I shouldn’t have told you. But I don’t know how else to make you understand what you’re dealing with. You don’t want to know what I heard they did to her boyfriend. It was even worse.”
I heave again, bile burning my throat as I retch. Magnolia rubs my back until I wipe my hand across my mouth.
“Water?” The request comes out as a croak.
“Sure, hon.”
I follow her out of the bathroom, back to the kitchen, picturing the broken crystal shards she’d swept up moments ago, except this time I imagine them digging into the soles of my feet as my blood stains the floor.
Magnolia slides a bottle of water across the counter to me, its cap already removed, and I take a cautious sip.
“What am I going to do?”
She covers my free hand with hers. “We, sugar. Because if you don’t give the man what he’s owed, then he won’t stop with you. He’ll take out everyone you love.”
I gag on the sip of water. “Oh Jesus, I have to leave. I can’t get you involved—”
“Too late. Mount never makes a move without knowing everything about his target.”
“My parents . . . my sisters . . .”
Magnolia nods. “And your friends. Employees.”
My eyelids sink closed. “He said . . . he said there was something he was willing to take in trade.” I hate to voice the option, but I can’t contemplate the alternative consequences without running for the toilet again.
“What?”
I swallow another wave of rising bile before I answer. “Me.”
“Well, fuck.”
Keira
“What?” I ask, terror running rife at her whispered curse.
“I’m thinking.” Magnolia holds up a hand.
“Has he done this before? Is there a playbook for this?”
She shakes her head. “No. I mean, the man has had plenty of mistresses. He usually orders them from out of the country.”
“And?”
“After a few months, they disappear. Like they never existed to begin with.”
I think of Richelle LaFleur, the girl we knew from church that no one has seen or heard from again and was rumored to have been one of his mistresses. As far as I know, the police consider her disappearance a cold case.
My breathing speeds up again. No matter which way I look at the situation, the only ending that seems to be consistent is me dying.
Magnolia eyes me carefully, as if studying my every feature for the very first time. “After that mess with Richelle, he hasn’t been with any local girls.”
“Why deviate from his pattern now? Why me?” My words come out sounding just as frenzied as my brain.
Magnolia shakes her head. “God only knows.” Her reply doesn’t make me feel any better about the situation. She steps away, crossing to the counter to grab her cell. “I need to make a phone call.”
She leaves me on the couch as she walks out of the room, and I draw my knees up to my chest and contemplate my options. Magically come up with five hundred thousand dollars. Prostitute myself out to a man who has either killed or ordered people killed, and everyone he sleeps with disappears afterward. Or, prepare to die a horrendous death, knowing my friends and family are going to die too.
All because of Brett.
How could I have been so stupid? We’d met online, my first foray into the world of Internet dating. We’d been ridiculously compatible. Our first date had been a dream. It was effortless, the way I thought real love should be. And our chemistry? Off the charts. At least, at the very beginning. I was the one who brought up eloping, and he said it was the most romantic idea he’d ever heard. So, we did it.
And he was a con artist.
I thought he’d been so interested in the distillery because it was my passion, and after we got married, he wanted to be part of running it. We were going to be an unstoppable team, and that thrilled me. Until I spotted him and the other woman. All of a sudden, his reduced interest in sex with me became utterly apparent. He was too busy fucking someone else to want to go another round with me.
It was time to truly face the facts. Brett Hyde conned me. He never wanted to be part of a team. He wanted to use the distillery as collateral for a half-million-dollar debt to a man scarier than any villain Hollywood has yet to create.
I can’t stop picturing a woman dancing on shattered glass until the pain was so horrendous she slit her wrists.
He’s a monster.
I squeeze my arms tighter around myself, and Magnolia returns a few moments later.
“I only have a hundred liquid. I could borrow another two, maybe two an
d a half from my connections, but I can’t pull together five hundred in a week.”
I blink twice and stare at my best friend until I realize she’s talking about giving me the money. “I didn’t come here for that. I couldn’t take—”
“Of course you wouldn’t come here with your hand out, because that’s not the kind of girl you are. But I would give it up for you if I could. Your ass isn’t on the line by itself, sweet thing. If you default, we all go down with you.”
Yesterday morning, I woke up feeling like I normally do—determined to take on the world of whiskey and make Seven Sinners the household name it has never been. Today, I’m worried about whether I’ll be alive in another week.
All because of Lachlan Mount. No. Because of Brett.
“I already told him I don’t have the money. He knows.”
Magnolia nods, her teeth skimming her lower lip. “Doesn’t surprise me at all. The man knows everything that happens in this town. What does surprise me is that he’s willing to take pussy for payment on a half-mil debt.”
I cringe at her crass language, but one thing I’ve always respected about Magnolia is she calls a spade a spade.
“I’ve heard of him taking property, houses, boats, racehorses, and cars, but never a woman. This isn’t his normal behavior.”
The gears in my brain turn slowly, as though rusted together from information overload. “Why deviate from the pattern?”
Magnolia tilts her head to one side and studies the wreck I surely am. “Have you looked in the mirror lately? I mean, when you weren’t puking your guts up?”
I roll my eyes.
“Ke-ke, you are shit hot. I could book you out every night of the week and twice on weekends.”
“I know you mean that as a compliment, but—”
“But nothing. You got tits, ass, and that gorgeous red hair that makes a man think he’s gonna find fire when he gets you under him. And don’t get me started with those eyes of yours. You’ve cornered the market on untouchable class. And what’s more, you’re totally and completely oblivious to it.”
“Brett clearly didn’t think so.” I don’t even know why I say it. Reminding myself my husband was cheating on me sucks more every time.
“Brett was a fucking tool and never deserved you. And right now, you need to quit worrying about him and start worrying about Mount.”
I unwrap one arm from around my chest and pinch the bridge of my nose. “I don’t even know where to start.”
Magnolia cocks a hip to the side. “I have a feeling he’ll be calling all the shots, so it won’t matter either way. Actually . . . maybe that’s what’ll save your ass. From what I’ve heard, the others were all meek and submissive—”
I jerk back into the couch cushions. “That’s definitely not me.”
She holds up a hand. “No shit. And maybe that’s it. You’re full of fire and sass to match that ass of yours. You gotta use it.”
I don’t like where she’s going with this, and my belly flips in agreement. “I seriously have no idea what you mean. At all.”
“When you’re Lachlan Mount, no one defies you. No one gives you sass. Something about you caught his eye. I feel that in my bones. You have to use it. Work it. Don’t let him walk all over you.” Magnolia’s voice quiets. “Don’t let him break you, Ke-ke. You keep ahold of your pride and never let go. He won’t know how to handle you.”
The thought of Mount handling me turns my stomach again. “There’s really no other way? No other client—” I can’t even believe I’m throwing the option out there as a possibility.
Magnolia destroys my last hope with a shake of her head. “You’ve already been marked. Lachlan Mount owns your ass, regardless of whether he’s tapped it yet. No one else will touch you because they’ll want to keep their limbs intact.”
“He gave me a week. I have to find another alternative.”
“That’s the part I’ve been trying to figure out. Normally, when a debt to Mount is due, it is due.”
“Can’t I go to the police? Won’t they do something?”
Magnolia looks toward the ceiling, as though seeking patience from a higher power. “Please tell me you’re joking. Because if you take one step in that direction, we’re all dead.”
“So you’re saying . . . I have to do this.”
She lowers her gaze to mine, and I feel the grimness of her stare. “You don’t have a choice. Not another one you can live with, anyway.”
“And you want me to defy the man who’s never been defied?” I cough out a strangled laugh. “Are you trying to get me killed?”
She shakes her head again, biting her lip as she holds up a finger. “No. I’m trying to save you.”
“Fuck,” I whisper. Because honestly, what else is there to say in this situation?
“But there’s one more thing you gotta watch out for, girl.”
I don’t want to know where she’s going with this, probably down some other dark and gruesome road, but I have to ask. “What?”
“When you’ve got as much power as Mount, that much charisma, that much presence, it does things to people.”
“You’re losing me.”
“Listen to me, Ke-ke. Hear me.” Her sharp tone clues me in to the fact that this is no joke. “He’s going to make your head go to war with your body.”
My heart kicks up again. “I don’t understand what you mean.”
Magnolia lets out a long sigh. “I’ll put this in plain terms. You’re gonna tell yourself that you don’t want him, that you hate him, and that this is all happening against your will. But there’s something about that man that tells me he’s gonna fuck with your head and turn your body against you. Mark my words, Ke-ke. He will make you enjoy it. He will make you want him.”
The gravity of her stare presses me back into the couch. “No way. No fucking way.” I jump up, my arms at my sides, my hands fisted.
“Yes fucking way. Get this through your head.” She comes toward me and wraps a hand around my arm, her nails digging into my skin. “There’s no shame in enjoying it, if that’s what’s gotta be done. My girls do it all the time. Drop-dead gorgeous client, one they’d fuck for free? Doesn’t even feel like work.”
I stiffen under her grip. “I’m not one of your girls.” The words come out from between gritted teeth.
“But you’re still female, and chemistry isn’t something you can fight.” She surveys me with knowledge in her eyes I can’t begin to imagine. Her grip on my arm loosens. “Just . . . be careful. He’s not like any man you’ve ever met. But whatever you do, don’t show fear. Don’t let him fuck with your head. You’re strong. Hold on to that. But if you enjoy it . . . what’s the harm?” She releases her hold on me with a shrug.
“No way in hell.”
Keira
I don’t remember any of my drive home.
I should have gone back to work. The fundraising event needs to be locked down, and I should be asking for details on the other inquiries we’ve had. But I can’t. My brain won’t focus, and I find myself parking in my spot at my run-down apartment building instead. When I realize where I am, I call Temperance and tell her I’m not feeling well. It isn’t a lie, by any means, and not just because I puked my guts up at Magnolia’s.
I refuse to believe there’s only one way out of this that doesn’t end with everyone I love dying. But any way I look at it, life as I know it is over.
“After a few months, they disappear. Like they never existed to begin with.”
Mount can’t make me disappear. I have people who would notice and then scream bloody murder if the cops didn’t look hard enough. I’m not some random girl from a foreign country, or like Richelle with no family left to keep the case alive after the police shelve it.
When I open my door and climb out, a BMW pulls to a stop along the curb across the street.
Is it following me? Or is it just another random nice car, and my mind is playing tricks on me? Either way, the fact that I can’t see th
rough the black-tinted windows puts me on edge. I hoist my bag onto my shoulder and lock my car door.
My keys jangle in my shaking hand as I walk with uneven steps toward the front entrance. When I let myself inside, I glance over my shoulder at the car, but no one gets out and the window doesn’t open.
Ignore it. It’s nothing. And regardless, from the way Magnolia described things, Mount would have no reason to have me followed if he already knows everything about me.
That knowledge makes me feel stripped bare, even though I’m fully clothed.
Unless they’re watching to see if I’m going to run.
I make my unsteady way up the stairs to the third-floor apartment I leased the day I met with the lawyer and planned to file for divorce. My townhouse, the one Brett moved into the day we got married, is a rental and the lease is about to lapse. I planned to renew it. At least until . . .
I push the memories of that day from my mind and focus on getting inside. I could have picked a nicer place to crash-land after my divorce, but I already planned to cut my salary to the bone to keep up with the distillery debt.
My parents sold their place when they moved to Florida, so that wasn’t an option. When they flew home for Brett’s funeral, Dad was pissed when he learned I planned to move into what he called a shithole, but I made up some excuse about it being closer to work and not needing so much space anymore as the reason for letting the lease lapse. I couldn’t admit that I didn’t think I could afford to pay myself enough to stay in the townhouse or find a better apartment. I wasn’t about to admit how badly we were struggling.
Knowing my dad, he would have insisted on coming out of retirement to take over, but that was the last thing I wanted him to do. Not just because I want to be the one at the helm, but because I feared he’d have a heart attack when he realized the damage Brett had done and how close Seven Sinners teeters on the edge of failure.
All my parents knew was that Brett had cheated, I was leaving him, and then he died in a tragic accident before I could file for divorce. As a compromise, I let Dad install two new dead bolts on my shitty apartment door. That was three months ago, and everything since is a blur.