Page 14 of Ruthless King (Mount Trilogy 1)
He moves on down the hall and I lock my door behind me, although part of my brain is wondering why I do it when it’s clear locks aren’t a deterrent to Mount or whoever he sent.
When I burst out of the building, my gaze shoots across the street. The black BMW is gone, and in its spot is a silver Prius.
Was it Mount in the BMW? Or someone who reported to him?
The words on the note flash in my head.
Six days.
The only thing I’m going to figure out in six days is how to drive myself completely crazy.
Once I lock myself in my car and jam the key in the ignition, I inhale deeply and release the breath slowly, attempting to calm my hammering heart.
My instincts scream at me to run, but where the hell do I go?
Mount was in my office at the distillery. He was in my apartment. Nothing feels safe anymore.
Maybe that’s part of his plan? He wants me helpless, like I have no options. Weak. Powerless. Under his control.
You’ve underestimated me, Mount. You might get me, but I won’t come cowering before you.
In my shitty Honda Civic, I make a vow to myself.
I will not run. I will not hide. And I sure as hell won’t put anyone else I care about in danger by bringing that monster to their doorstep.
I yank the key out of the ignition and get out of my car and lock it again, retracing my steps, feeling steadier with each moment. Once I’m inside, I find a bottle of Seven Sinner’s single barrel in the cabinet and a glass. I set everything—both versions of the promissory note, Brett’s wedding band, and my six-day warning—out in front of me.
Tonight, I’m going to reread every word of my death sentence, and then I’m getting drunk.
Keira
Going to work with a hangover sucks, especially when you’re the boss. In this case, I had no option. Passing out was the only way I was getting any sleep last night. It took a bottle and a half of whiskey to do the trick. High tolerance and all.
As I go through the motions, my employees pretend not to notice that something’s off with me. Even Temperance gives me a wide berth and doesn’t mention anything about the fundraiser.
By lunchtime, I feel like I might finally be able to stomach food, and I climb the stairs to the top floor of the distillery where we have an incredible restaurant whose fare is surpassed only by the excellent 360-degree view of the city. I designed the remodel after I saw pictures of the Gravity Bar at the Guinness Storehouse in Dublin, not that I’ve had the pleasure to go there myself.
With Brett’s debt and Mount’s threats hanging over me, maybe now I never will.
The lunch crowd in the restaurant is light. I nod at a trio of businessmen, and make small talk for a few minutes with a couple of ladies who ask about my mom and how my folks are liking it in Florida.
“They say they’re never coming back, but we’ll see.”
“Living the good life. It’s so wonderful they were able to keep the business in the family and still retire. It’s tough to manage that these days.”
“It really is.” I force a smile onto my face. “Have a wonderful lunch.”
When I duck into the kitchen and smile at Odile, our head chef, she shakes her head.
“I’ll have someone run your regular down to your office. No reason for you to wait in my hot kitchen while I make it. You got me catering to whatever those fancy rich people want for their event; no reason I shouldn’t be catering to you too.”
“You are a goddess, and those fancy rich people keep us all employed.”
She responds with a pshhh. “You do that by force of will alone. It’s that stubborn Irish in you. Now, you need to learn how to use the phone and call up to place an order like I would expect the CEO to do.”
I can’t tell her I had to get out of my office because Mount’s scent still hangs in the air, and every time I close my eyes, I picture him sitting behind my desk or trapping me in the corner.
“Tomorrow. I swear.”
