The Safe Bet (Hidden Truths #1)(70)
“I can’t divulge client information.”
Michael glared at David. “Tell him.”
“Alexander Konstantin,” he grumbled, his cheeks reddening a bit.
“The Russian mob boss at Brighten Beach?” Michael’s forehead wrinkled in shock. “You don’t deserve to be called her father. Get the hell out of my room.” He looked to Connor, and then to Jake. “Everyone. Leave.”
*
“I don’t understand.” Kate rubbed her wrists and stared at Dustin. He was sitting on the bed she had previously occupied, having moved her to a chair an hour ago. Only her ankles were tied to the legs of the dusty seat.
“If your original job was to scare me back to New York, why all the stuff about my mom? What kind of badass hitman sends flowers?” What in God’s name is wrong with me? I’m taunting a lunatic! She swallowed back her nerves, trying to keep her head high and poker face on.
Dustin averted his eyes from the computer screen on his lap and fixed them on Kate. “Listen, my love, I don’t have a clue about any fucking flowers, but I am a genius.”
She squeezed her eyes shut for a brief moment, then returned her gaze back to the dark eyes of the madman. “Well, you failed at your job. I didn’t leave Charlotte.”
“And thank God for that. Running to Michael for protection triggered my idea.”
God, she was dying to strangle the bastard.
“I mean, when I discovered the intense dynamic between the two of you . . . I simply couldn’t resist. I guess you could call it fate. I was given a precious gift. An opportunity to cash in on much more than a worried father . . .” He chuckled, and the shrill sound of his laughter was disturbing. He belonged in a mental institution. “Of course, your father had no clue that I was much more dangerous to you than Charlotte could ever be.” He lifted his long fingers from the laptop for a brief second to crack his neck. “What does he have against this place, anyway? I noticed that you visited your mother’s grave—she died here, huh?”
What is wrong with you, you sick prick? A sour taste filled her mouth. She couldn’t wrap her head around the truth. Her father had hired a deranged psycho, and now he was using her to get to Michael. She chose to ignore his mention of her mother and responded, “Michael will never give in to you.”
“He has a nasty hero complex, sweetie.” He wet his lips and arched his shoulders back before moving the laptop onto the bed. “Sure, Michael has a reputation for tossing women to the curb, but I knew that Michael would fasten his superhero cape and soldier around like the savior he thinks he is.” He stood up and moved toward Kate before kneeling in front of her.
She tried to hide her trepidation as he placed his hand on her knee. She could feel the bile rise into her throat.
“I never anticipated it would be so easy, though. I wanted to be sure he truly cared about you—the look on his face when I aimed my sniper at you was priceless.”
He ran his cool fingers up her cheek, and she jerked her hand up, ready to hit him, but he caught it in the air. When she responded by swinging her other hand at him, he gripped both her wrists so hard that she had to bite her lip to fight the pain.
He released her and rose to his feet, taking a step back. “Feisty thing, aren’t you? I see why he likes you. And why he’ll do whatever I want.”
She angled her face up and narrowed her eyes on his. “He’s a patriot, first and foremost. He won’t sacrifice the safety of the nation for me. I won’t let him.” She gripped the arms of the chair. “Money is one thing, but giving you access to national intelligence . . . you’re certifiable.”
“I have men already bidding top dollar for the information—the bid is nearing eight hundred million dollars. Come on, even you can appreciate a good auction.” He winked at her. “He’ll give me what I want. And if not, I’ll empty the few hundred million from his bank account into mine and kill you all. Mother always told me to have a back-up plan.”
She could never let Michael endanger the nation’s secrets for her. But who was she kidding—she knew she didn’t need to worry about that. He wouldn’t betray his country.
“How many times are we going to recycle this dialogue? Michael won’t sell out his country. He doesn’t care for you. Blah. Blah. Blah.” Dustin cocked his head. “Do I need to tape your mouth?”
“Asshole,” she muttered.
“Hey, you really should blame yourself for all of this. What kind of moron goes on a date when there’s a gun-toting stalker following her around? You should have stayed penned up in Michael’s cozy loft.” He guffawed. “You could be asleep in his arms right now. Instead, you followed the orders of Michael’s FBI buddy—which I counted on. I knew that I could rely on Homeland Security to draw you out for me.” He exhaled a breath and his eyes shifted to her mouth. “I’m always two steps ahead, baby.”
“Just kill me now. Get it over with.” Gone was the pain and sadness that had infiltrated her earlier in the night. In its place was the reality of her situation.
“Where would the fun be in that?”
She hated how he towered over her, immense. Solid muscle pressed against his black T-shirt. She felt weak. Powerless.
“If Michael does give me what I want, I plan on sparing his life. Imprisonment as a traitor of the U.S. government is a fate worse than any death I might deliver.”