Final Debt (Indebted #6)(28)

Finally, the shock of killing left and her eyes opened to focus resolutely on Daniel. Any hint of desire disappeared with clear-headed determination. “Cut will be back for his turn soon.” Her voice shook. “What do I do, Kite? What do I do with the body?”

“You?” I laughed harshly. “You aren’t doing anything. You’ve done too much already.” I ran a hand through my hair. “I should’ve been there for you and I wasn’t. I’ll deal with this.”

Her skin turned frigid beneath my fingertips. “No, you have to go. If Cut sees you—”

“I don’t f*cking care if he sees me.” Pushing Nila off my lap, I stood. Marching across the tent, I tore through her open suitcase and threw fresh knickers and leggings her way. “Put these on. And shoes. I’m going to get rid of Daniel and you’re coming with me.”

“But—”

I cut my hand through the air. “But nothing, Nila. I’m not letting you out of my sight. Got it?”

“But Jasmine and Kes. You have to think of them. Cut can’t know you’re still alive, he’ll—”

Kill me. Yes, I know.

But my life was worthless compared to hers. I would willingly trade it if it meant she walked away from this with no more bruises or battered memories. She’d already endured so much. She wore the marks of war, and I refused to let her endure more. I’d tried to save too many people. Kes would understand, and Jaz would expect me to do what was right.

This was right.

Nila was my only choice.

“Don’t worry about them. I know what I’m doing.” I glanced at my dead sibling, feeling nothing but relief. His cock taunted me with what he’d done to my woman. If he wasn’t already dead…he would die with severe mutilation to purge myself of the wrath in my blood.

“So…how will we dispose of the body?” Nila whispered.

My mind ran with scenarios. “We could cover him in liquor and make it seem like he drank himself into the grave.”

Nila swallowed. “Is that believable?” She looked at the floor where the long bloody weapon stuck to the tent covering. “I stabbed him in the heart with my knitting needle. The two wounds are small, but there. They’d know it wasn’t self-inflicted.”

She killed him with a needle?

An awed smile lit my face. “You’re so f*cking strong.”

She glanced away, despair still prominent.

I rubbed my face, willing tiredness and pain to fade so I could come up with a solution.

Think.

Where could I put him that Cut wouldn’t find him?

The diamond mine!

The idea sprang from schematics to doable. “We can make it look like an accident. I can bury him in the mine. Make it look like he fell.”

Nila paused, tasting my plan, nibbling at it for flaws.

“Shit, that won’t work.” I shook my head. “I couldn’t get him there without someone hearing the Jeep.” My eyes narrowed, rushing forward with a new idea.

Then, it came to me.

Africa would take care of it for me.

I snapped my fingers with decision. “I know what to do.”

Nila opened her mouth to argue, but I stormed across the room and grabbed her face. I couldn’t help myself. She was so f*cking courageous. Her emotions so clear. Her love so deep. Her passion so pure. Not one inch of terror or hate that I hadn’t been there for her. Not one smidgen of hostility or judgement.

She’s so damn selfless.

I kissed her.

The instant my lips touched hers, it was if a nuclear explosion mushroomed inside her. The lust I’d gleaned in her mind erupted into full force, drowning everything. Her tongue snaked into my mouth, decaying my resolve not to touch her.

Dropping the clothes I’d given her, she groaned long and low, her mouth tempting mine to give more. The sheet fluttered from her hips as her naked leg twined around my hip, grinding against me.

“Fuck…” I stumbled forward as she turned crazed with desire. I’d never felt such passion pouring from her. “Nila…wait…”

Her tongue shot swifter, sexier into my mouth. Kissing. Licking. Demanding I respond.

“Nila…”

“No, Jethro. Give me this. I need this.” Her lips recaptured mine, pulling me under.

“Shit.” It all suddenly made sense. The clouded residue on her thoughts. The flowing undercurrent of something stronger than death and pain. She wanted sex. She needed sex.

They’d drugged her.

They’d given her the same thing they’d given me when I was fifteen. Something so potent and heady no one could say no to the aphrodisiac power.

Goddammit.

My gut twisted into a knot as her tongue licked and flicked. I forced myself not to listen to her tainting thoughts—I didn’t want the urgent need to f*ck to consume me. But my cock thickened, drawn to her even as I tried to battle the rapidly building need. “How—how did you fight it for so long? How did you stop?”

Her hands flew up my t-shirt, skirting over my wound, dancing over my skin like compelling butterflies. “Stop talking. Please…give me what I want. I need to feel alive. I need to take back what Daniel tried to steal. Please, Jethro. Please, f*ck me.”

The memory of our first kiss in her room—the way she’d chopped my resolve to pieces with her demands to kiss her, fired into lustful flames.