Final Debt
Page 61

Cut smiled coyly. “I wouldn’t worry your pretty head about it. Soon, trivial things like that won’t matter to you.”
The veiled hint at my death should terrify me. I should fight and scream and act like a terrorist to prevent boarding the plane. But the fear of interrogation and imprisonment kept me silent.
Cut was insane, but there was only one of him. One beating heart to stab. One life to extinguish. If the police took me, I wouldn’t know who or how to fight. I’d be alone.
Yes, but you might stay alive.
Perhaps in England I would cause a fuss. But not here. I didn’t trust the Hawk’s power in Africa. Cut might have the means to murder me even in the custody of the law. Buy a cop—arrange a convenient suicide in my cell.
No, I’ll wait.
I would return to England, to my home, to a land I knew and could gamble my life with better odds.
Checking us in, Cut never let me go as the agent handed over our passports and boarding passes. Dark-skinned security and airport personnel didn’t look our way as Cut guided me roughly through customs and immigration to the baggage x-ray.
The closer we got to the metal detector, the more my heart galloped.
Don’t think about the diamonds.
Cut whispered in my ear, his fingers digging into my bicep. “If you bring unwanted attention or do anything stupid, I’ve given Marquise strict orders to make Jethro pay.”
I shivered, joining the queue to pass through the detector.
My heart permanently relocated into my mouth as my turn fast approached and I held my broken arm protectively. I didn’t know if I hugged it for the pain or the illegal diamonds. Either way, the flush and wax of my skin played right into Cut’s masquerade that I was under the weather from agony rather than smuggling.
The woman officer smiled, waving me forward. “Come through, ma’am.”
I shuffled through the arch, cringing as it beeped.
“Stand there.” The woman came closer, waving her wand over my front and back.
I squeezed my eyes, expecting her to detain me. Terrified she’d find the millions of pounds worth of diamonds and sentence me to death by hanging.
What would be better? Hanging or guillotine?
What kind of morbid thought is that?
Cut stepped through without setting off the alarm and gave me a smirk as he collected his briefcase off the x-ray belt. He stood close by, not interfering as the woman did one more pass and the wand failed to beep.
She dropped her arm, waving for me to go. “Have a nice flight.”
“Uh—uh, thanks.” I scurried forward, sweat dripping down my spine with nerves. An itch developed on my forearm beneath the cast, slowly driving me mad as Cut placed his hand on the small of my back and guided me into the departure lounge.
“See, wasn’t so bad, was it?” He spoke quietly, not making eye contact as we dodged travel-weary passengers.
My uninjured hand ached from holding the cast. I wished I could keep it close to me but not have to hold it. Wait…
That was what was missing.
I stopped in the centre of the duty-free shop we’d cut through. “A sling. I need a sling.”
Cut frowned. “What?”
I held up my arm. “It hurts. I need to keep it close so it doesn’t bump or dangle, but my other shoulder is sore from the car accident. I need a sling.”
When his lips curled with dismissal, I rushed, “Besides, a sling will only add evidence to the break. It doesn’t have to be much. Just something to give me some relief.”
Cut scowled, his throat working as he swallowed. “Fine.” Storming toward a bookshop, he quickly bought me a canvas tote bag and asked the sales clerk to cut it straight down the centre.
Guiding me from the store, he quickly cradled my arm with the sliced tote and knotted the handles around my side and shoulder, creating an imperfect but practical sling. The ease and quickness in which he’d done such a tender thing made me freeze.
If I was honest, I hadn’t expected him to listen, let alone help me.
“You—you—” I looked away, hating him but grateful. “Thank you.”
Cut stiffened, his golden eyes meeting mine. “I wouldn’t thank me, Ms. Weaver. You know I didn't do it out of concern for your well-being.”
Now that my other hand was free, I pushed hair out of my eyes and relaxed a little. “No, but you can’t hide there’s more to you than just a crazy man hell-bent on ruling everyone.”
He smirked, the skin by his eyes crinkling. “You might have figured out Daniel, but you’ll never figure me out, so don’t bother.” Stepping closer, we formed a little island as flowing passengers darted around us. The fear for Jethro and the nervousness in my gut layered my aching muscles, but I didn’t move back. I didn’t show a weakness that Cut’s proximity irked and irritated.
His gaze fell to my lips. “You’re strong, Nila. I’ll give you that. You remind me so much of Emma that it’s sometimes hard to remember you aren’t mine. That you aren’t her. You might think it would be a good thing for me to think of you kindly, but it wouldn’t, believe me.” He lowered his voice. “Your mother ripped out my heart before I cut off her head. And nothing will give me more pleasure than doing the same to Jethro and you.”
My lungs stuck together, unable to gather oxygen.
Cut cocked his head, smiling at my dumbfoundedness. “Why does that continue to shock you? Why do you, even now, still look for the good in others?” Patting my hand, he looped his fingers through mine and pulled me back into motion. “You should know by now no one is what they say they are, and everyone deserves to pay for something. People have been covering up or blaming their mistakes on others for centuries. I take control of mine. I do the best I can to better myself and I refuse to let you or anyone else stand in my way.”