The Billionaire’s Marriage Of Deception

Chapter 4

“Now!” the man demanded, and Amanda obeyed, arms shaking as she lifted them to her head and turned around. She heard quiet footsteps on the carpet drawing closer and closer, and she grew tenser at the sound.

When the gun barrel grazed the skin behind her right ear, Amanda let out a low whimper. Oh God, she was going to die right here, brains splattered all over the pristine white carpet, and she hadn’t even done anything; they were looking for some African with a funny name and that just. wasn’t. her. “Please,” she whispered, trying not to hyperventilate. “Please don’t—”

“Shut up,” the man hissed in her ear, and Amanda clamped her mouth shut.

He roughly patted Amanda down, and a small corner of Amanda’s brain realized that if she was going to be shot on the spot, she wasn’t going to be frisked first. Her breaths slowed down a fraction, but the touch of the gun on her neck still had her strung tight as a piano wire.

“Hands down,” the gunman ordered. Amanda obeyed, trying not to think about what was going to happen next, because there was no possible way it could be good.

She was all too right. She was soon being yanked backward by an arm around her breasts, (did he give a squeeze? He better not have) trapping her arms down at her sides, and damn, the guy had to be as big as Michael to be able to do that. At the same time, the gun slid down to dig into the soft underside of the corner of Amanda’s jaw, and she couldn’t help the scared squeak that slipped out. “Please,” she whispered again. The gun was pressing right against her pulse point, the rapid beat throbbing against the now-warm metal, and if it was possible to be more terrified, she didn’t see how.

“Quiet,” the man growled in her ear. When Amanda went still, he added in a low voice, “You’re going to call his name to get him up here. Just his name. Nothing else, or I pull this trigger. You understand?”

Amanda shut her eyes as if that would help. She hadn’t heard Michael go outside, but surely he would have heard the noises Amanda and her captor had been making if he was still indoors. Amanda’s mouth was so dry that she didn’t think she could call loudly enough to be heard from the other side of the room, much less downstairs, but she gave a sharp nod to indicate she understood.

She drew in a breath, and a second later came the most welcome sound she had ever heard. “Put it down,” growled a voice that she only barely recognized as Michael’s.

Amanda’s eyes flew open, and she saw Michael at the top of the stairs, gun trained slightly to the right of Amanda’s head. Amanda’s eyes had adjusted enough to the light that she could see the corded muscle along Michael’s forearms as he steadily aimed his weapon. The cold, hard expression on his face made him look even more like a complete stranger. Where was Wyatt’s man?

The man behind Amanda actually chuckled. “I don’t think so, Deaton.” He jammed the gun harder against Amanda’s neck, and Amanda craned her head to the side, trying futilely to get away. Michael’s eyes briefly tracked the movement, fury lighting their depths.

With her head tilted to the side, Amanda’s attention was caught by movement out of the corner of her eye. She looked towards the balcony and was horrified to see a second man out there, moving towards the partly-open door. “Michael!” she squeaked.

Michael started to turn towards the doors, and then a sound from below caught everyone’s attention. A third man was at the foot of the stairs, gun aimed up at Michael’s back, and Amanda’s heart sank. Michael looked from Amanda to the stairs and back, and finally his mouth tightened. He slowly lowered his arms and dropped the gun soundlessly on the carpet before putting his hands on top of his head.

His expression as he met Amanda’s eyes was nothing but bleak.

Within minutes, they’d dragged in a chair from the balcony and tied Michael to it, arms secured behind the back of the chair and ankles lashed to its legs with zip line. He gave what looked to Amanda like only a perfunctory struggle, his eyes constantly shifting between Amanda, the gun at his head, and the man tying him up like he was taking in the situation but unable to do anything about it at the moment.

Once Michael was secured to the chair, the pressure of the gun under Amanda’s jaw eased. Michael looked back and forth between their captors, practically slouching in the chair as if he was there by choice. “Y’all screwed up. Again,” he drawled at the man holding Amanda. He nodded at Amanda and went on, “She’s not even the person you’re after. Might as well let her go.”

That low chuckle sounded in Amanda’s ear again. “Actually, we have exactly the person we were after.”

Amanda was momentarily baffled. She didn’t even know who these guys were, so what could they possibly want with her? Was this some clap back from Calvin?

When she looked at Michael and saw his eyes going wide, she could almost feel the gears in her own head turning. When she saw Michael’s calm expression start to be undercut by fear, she suddenly understood. These guys had never been after Sidi-whatever. They didn’t care who Amanda was. They wanted Michael. And given the vague things he and Demore had said about them before, combined with the apprehension taking over Michael’s face, Amanda really didn’t want to know why.

“That’s right, Deaton,” said Amanda’s captor. “This was all about getting you here. Worked like a charm, too. You couldn’t resist the chance to try and finish what you started.” His grip tightened around Amanda’s torso, and Amanda sucked in a breath. “Instead, we’re going to finish you.”

The man who’d tied Michael to the chair, a short guy with close-cropped red hair, flicked open a knife with a hard snick that sent a shiver down Amanda’s spine. Michael shifted away from him, biceps and pectorals flexing under his faded gray t-shirt as if he was trying to break the ropes around his wrists.

“Get his shirt off, but don’t get started without me.” Amanda’s captor let go of her only to grab her upper arm, the gun suddenly pressing snugly against her ribs. “I got something to take care of first.”

“No.” Michael spoke sharply as he looked frantically between Amanda and the man holding her. “You don’t need to do that.”

Once again, it took a second before Amanda figured out what was going on, but when she did, her legs almost gave way. Michael was talking about them killing her, and tied up as he was, there was nothing Michael could do to stop them. Amanda suddenly recalled the noise they’d earlier heard from outside, like another member of the team being cut down, and she had the horrible sinking feeling that no one was going to be able to stop them. Had they killed Wyatt’s man? Or was he biding his time? Please be biding your time. Please be biding your time. She prayed to whomever was listening.

“No!” Amanda cried out, but she was being shoved towards the stairs, the gun never moving from her side. Michael was shouting something from the bedroom until there was a sharp crack followed by a groan, and he went silent.

“Move it,” the gunman demanded, hauling Amanda around the corner and out the front door. She stumbled in the man’s grip, mind racing as she tried to think of something, anything to get away, but her mind was completely blank. She looked around frantically trying to spot Wyatt’s man. But she saw nothing.

They were out the door and around the corner of the villa, heading towards the cliff overlooking the sea, when Amanda finally started to struggle. Maybe it was instinct kicking in as she recognized she was running out of time, but she dug in her heels on the dirt path despite the shove from behind. Realizing her arm was free, she sharply twisted away from the gun, not like she could get a hold of it or would even know what to do with it if she did, but it wasn’t like she had anything to lose at this point.

The bang of the gun wasn’t as loud as she had expected, but Amanda still flinched in horror, expecting to feel pain blossoming in her side from where she’d been shot. Instead, there was a hard thump from behind her, like a body falling to the ground. She whirled to see her captor sprawled across the path, gun pointing away from her, a dark stain spreading across his chest.