Henry's temple while screaming at him to stop. He doesn't listen, and my kick does nothing to him, but it nearly kills me. It feels like I broke my foot. I need a fucking ninja!
"Stop this, now." Sean's voice is deep, steady, and even.
We hear a gun cock and everyone but Mel turns. He's standing there in tux pants and nothing else. His arms are extended forward clasping the gun, aiming directly at Henry's head.
CHAPTER 14
H enry rolls his eyes , but he doesn't drop the knife, which is biting into Mel's neck. She doesn't make a sound, but there's a crimson trail of blood running down her mocha skin. "No one will miss her."
"I will," Sean says, surprising everyone. "As much as I want to put a bullet in your head, today isn't our day."
Henry inhales deeply, still doesn't move. "You like to take my toys."
"Amanda wasn't a toy."
"She wasn't yours, she was mine, and you broke her. I saw her toward the end, you know. Lifeless eyes and that growing belly. By the time you killed her, she was already dead." Henry stands and drops the knife on the floor next to Mel's head.
Henry mutters something as he walks away, tugging on his jacket and checking his sleeves for blood. If I didn't know better, he did that with Mel on purpose, like he was testing her. Why he took it that far is beyond me. There's no way he didn't know that calling her that wouldn't evoke an instant rage response, especially from her. The one thing Mel desires above all else is to be valued. She wants someone to see her for who she is and not use her because they can. I'm not sure what Henry was trying to prove, but Sean wasn't originally part of it. Those last few words were meant to get inside his chest and work their way to his heart.
Sean tucks the gun in the back of his waistband, walks over to Marty and inspects the cut over his eye. "You left me for dead."
"Ditto."
The corner of Sean's lips twitch slightly as if he wants to smile or say something, but he doesn't. He just turns to me and scans my body. "Are you hurt?"
"No." Yes, my foot is screaming like a crazy bitch in the mall on Christmas Eve.
Sean knows. His gaze drops to my foot. He doesn't ask, he just sweeps me up. "You need ice."
I smack him, protesting. "Put me down."
"Make me." His voice is flat, irritated.
He carries me down the stairs to the kitchen while Marty catches him up. Mel shrinks away in silence, no doubt embarrassed. Getting your ass kicked by a man wearing tweed had to be a shock.
We cross an enormous room, under the chandelier, beneath the dark stained, hand-carved coffers, and through a door that looks like part of the wood paneling surround the lower level of the room. I wonder how close Sean and Henry were at one point. They knew each other well, that much is clear. Henry knew how and where to hit Sean the hardest. Amanda is his weakest spot. He still blames himself. No matter what he says out loud, his feelings on the matter haven't changed.
After passing through a doorway, we enter a gigantic dining room. The table is a mile long. A plane could mistake it for a runway. The drapes are drawn, and we can see out the front of the house to the traditional English gardens. I can tell by the way things are planted and arranged. My mother always wanted a little English style garden but never got around to it.
On the other side of the room, we pass through another doorway, walk along a dark hallway, and into an industrial kitchen. It's the size of my parent's house. There are multiple stoves with griddles and burners. One wall of the kitchen has oversized double ovens in case you need to cook a dozen turkeys at once. Every cabinet is custom and resembles something from an old movie—or a Tudor palace. Even the racks hanging above the metal island are indicative of Henry's fetish. There are dead birds hanging there, dangling under the lights next to herbs and other things.
"Is that a duck?" No one answers me. It's too fat to be a wild turkey unless he went hunting at
"Stop this, now." Sean's voice is deep, steady, and even.
We hear a gun cock and everyone but Mel turns. He's standing there in tux pants and nothing else. His arms are extended forward clasping the gun, aiming directly at Henry's head.
CHAPTER 14
H enry rolls his eyes , but he doesn't drop the knife, which is biting into Mel's neck. She doesn't make a sound, but there's a crimson trail of blood running down her mocha skin. "No one will miss her."
"I will," Sean says, surprising everyone. "As much as I want to put a bullet in your head, today isn't our day."
Henry inhales deeply, still doesn't move. "You like to take my toys."
"Amanda wasn't a toy."
"She wasn't yours, she was mine, and you broke her. I saw her toward the end, you know. Lifeless eyes and that growing belly. By the time you killed her, she was already dead." Henry stands and drops the knife on the floor next to Mel's head.
Henry mutters something as he walks away, tugging on his jacket and checking his sleeves for blood. If I didn't know better, he did that with Mel on purpose, like he was testing her. Why he took it that far is beyond me. There's no way he didn't know that calling her that wouldn't evoke an instant rage response, especially from her. The one thing Mel desires above all else is to be valued. She wants someone to see her for who she is and not use her because they can. I'm not sure what Henry was trying to prove, but Sean wasn't originally part of it. Those last few words were meant to get inside his chest and work their way to his heart.
Sean tucks the gun in the back of his waistband, walks over to Marty and inspects the cut over his eye. "You left me for dead."
"Ditto."
The corner of Sean's lips twitch slightly as if he wants to smile or say something, but he doesn't. He just turns to me and scans my body. "Are you hurt?"
"No." Yes, my foot is screaming like a crazy bitch in the mall on Christmas Eve.
Sean knows. His gaze drops to my foot. He doesn't ask, he just sweeps me up. "You need ice."
I smack him, protesting. "Put me down."
"Make me." His voice is flat, irritated.
He carries me down the stairs to the kitchen while Marty catches him up. Mel shrinks away in silence, no doubt embarrassed. Getting your ass kicked by a man wearing tweed had to be a shock.
We cross an enormous room, under the chandelier, beneath the dark stained, hand-carved coffers, and through a door that looks like part of the wood paneling surround the lower level of the room. I wonder how close Sean and Henry were at one point. They knew each other well, that much is clear. Henry knew how and where to hit Sean the hardest. Amanda is his weakest spot. He still blames himself. No matter what he says out loud, his feelings on the matter haven't changed.
After passing through a doorway, we enter a gigantic dining room. The table is a mile long. A plane could mistake it for a runway. The drapes are drawn, and we can see out the front of the house to the traditional English gardens. I can tell by the way things are planted and arranged. My mother always wanted a little English style garden but never got around to it.
On the other side of the room, we pass through another doorway, walk along a dark hallway, and into an industrial kitchen. It's the size of my parent's house. There are multiple stoves with griddles and burners. One wall of the kitchen has oversized double ovens in case you need to cook a dozen turkeys at once. Every cabinet is custom and resembles something from an old movie—or a Tudor palace. Even the racks hanging above the metal island are indicative of Henry's fetish. There are dead birds hanging there, dangling under the lights next to herbs and other things.
"Is that a duck?" No one answers me. It's too fat to be a wild turkey unless he went hunting at
Similar Books
