A Margin of Lust (The Seven Deadly Sins #1)(65)

He raised his lip in a parody of a smile again. "No? What do you mean no?"

"I'm not going anywhere." Just saying the words made Gwen feel faint. "You won't kill me here, in your shop. It's too messy."

Mo looked at her evenly for several minutes. Finally, he said, "What makes you think I intend to kill you?"

Gwen's laugh was bitter. "I don't know. Maybe the ropes, the knife. Hitting me over the head. The other dead agents."

His face broke in agony for a split second then remolded itself. "Don't get sarcastic with me. I'm not who you think I am."

Gwen stared at her bare feet. She'd done it again—made him angry. "I'm sorry."

"You think I'm a lunatic who slices up poor little Realtors in their listings for fun?" He waved his knife hand in the air. "I am not a monster. No. I am not."

He stopped and wagged the box cutter at Gwen like it was a finger. "My sister owes me. She's taken it all—the attention, the position, the name, the money. Those women died for a good cause, a just cause. Don't waste any sympathy on them." His cheek twitched.

"I don't understand." Gwen's voice was almost a whisper. She needed to know his mind if she had any hope of surviving the night.

He looked at the ceiling. "They were charming to my face, Mr. Moray this and Mr. Moray that, but they didn't fool me. They were grasping, greedy, self-satisfied sluts. I exterminated them in my father's name."

A look of pain crossed his face; he stifled a groan and fisted his hands. Gwen's pulse climbed into her throat. She held her breath for several long moments, hoping his rage would pass.

He breathed through his nose and seemed to get control of himself. "I'm a sommelier, did you know that? Level two. I was born with an amazing sense of smell. Incredible taste buds. My sister, she buys whatever is on sale at the grocery store. She's a plebeian. But she had my father under her spell."

He switched the knife to his left hand and flexed and clenched his right hand several times. "The witch." His hand shot to his head, he gripped a hank of hair and pulled. It came loose in his fingers. He studied the hair, then let it flutter to the floor.

"We need to go." He walked toward Gwen.

"No. I'll scream."

"Don't irritate me." The words were a hiss. He clapped one hand over her mouth and held the knife to her throat with the other. "I thought we were friends. I even protected you from Lance. He was a wolf in sheep's clothing. Did you know that? He came into the wine shop with three other women over the past two months. And, he left with them. Left with his arm around them, whispering in their ears."

Mo tightened his grip and Gwen felt a pinch at her neck. Then he held the blade before her face so she could see the blood on its tip. A sob gurgled in her throat.

"I'll take my hand off your mouth so you can say thank you."

Gwen nodded.

He removed his hand. "Thank you," she said.

"That's better. Now, let's be allies. You scratch my back. I'll scratch yours." He folded his arms over his chest. "You get me into my father's house, and I'll keep all your dirty little secrets."

"What do you mean?"

"My father's house is on the market again. I want in. I have your key." He dug into his pocket and pulled out an electronic key. "But I don't know the code."

"I'll give you the code." Gwen's words were quick. "Just let me go."

"Not so fast." He waggled the device in the air. "I have another teensy favor to ask. Once we get there, I need you to make a call."

"To who?" Gwen asked.

"My sister." His face clouded again. "I need her there. I want you to call and say you were just showing a client the house and there was a plumbing problem, or... maybe electrical." He stared at the dark ceiling. "No, plumbing is better. The basement could be flooding. She'd have to come then."

"Then what?"

"Then?" he looked at her like he'd forgotten she was there for a second. He narrowed his eyes. "Then I let you go, of course."

Gwen gauged her response. He was crazy, dangerous, but it didn't appear his obsession was directed at her. "That's it? All I have to do is get you into your father's house and call your sister?"

"That's it." A crafty look crawled across his face.

She knew he wouldn't keep his word, but playing along might buy her time.





CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT


Mo opened the trunk. Rain splashed Gwen's face. She sucked in air like a diver breaking the surface, her heart pounding. During the drive, claustrophobia had wrapped around her throat like a boa constrictor and squeezed. The breathless ride had seemed an eternity.

She calmed herself by looking at the open sky. The sun was still low on the horizon obscured by a blanket of storm clouds, but there was daylight. This had been the longest night of her life. The sun brought hope, most likely foolish hope, but foolish hope was better than the hopelessness of the dark hours.

She scanned her surroundings. Mo's car was backed into a cracked driveway behind a rickety wooden fence. A large, fig tree hovered over her. She knew where she was. What she hadn't known was this had been Mo's father's home. This was why he hadn't killed her then, why he believed his sister would come when Gwen called. Fiona was his sister. And Fiona was Gwen's client.