Page 145 of Sinful Sacrifice
I clasp my hands in my lap. “Water is fine. I’m not a big drinker.”
Disappointment floods his face, and he whips around to make a mixed drink for himself. With a grunt of disapproval, he hands me a bottle of water.
All the kindness he had in the car during our small talk has dissolved.
Levi openly stares at me while returning with his drink. I clutch my bag to my chest when he plops down so close that he’s nearly sitting on my lap. When I start to stand, he slaps his hand on my thigh.
“I helped you out. Now, you help me,” he says, his voice a sad attempt to sound sensual.
Leave it to me.
Always choosing the worst men to do literally anything with.
“Levi,” I grit out, slapping his hand away from me. “Go back to your side of the couch.”
He rubs himself between his legs before attempting to grab my wrist.
I try to wrangle out of his hold while unzipping my bag with my free hand. I might’ve left my phone, but I brought other necessities. One of them being pepper spray. Damien told me to never leave my apartment without it.
My body tightens when I hear a gunshot and then a short, sudden crack. Levi grunts and collapses face down against my shoulder. Blood splatters from his face onto me and pours from his head.
I scream at the top of my lungs, attempting to push Levi’s dead body off me, when the shooter comes into view.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
“What the hell?” I scream. “What are you doing here?”
Damien smirks, standing tall, and slips his gun inside his waistband. “Oh, you didn’t know I got my pilot’s license?”
48
You can run, but you can’t hide.
If the day comes that I marry Pippa, that’ll be in my vows.
I’d track her to the edge of the earth if I had to.
To damn Mars.
She’ll never escape me.
My sweet dancer underestimated me, assuming I only tracked her through vehicles and electronics. I have access to her studio cameras and overheard her conversation with that degenerate Levi the other day. I hacked into his phone and read through his texts, listened in on his calls, and knew he wasn’t flying Pippa to Hawaii as a gentleman.
My sweet dancer should’ve known that.
Now, she’s covered in some asshole’s blood, looking at me like I’m the one who lost their mind.
Before anyone arrived at the airport, I made myself comfortable in the cockpit. As soon as the pilot stepped inside, I held a gun to his head.
I could either kill Levi on the ground or in the air. It would’ve been boring, going to his house and putting a bullet through his brain. Shooting him in front of Pippa also taught her a lesson.
Plus, I can add killing an asshole on a private jet to my list.
Not that anyone will know it’s me. I already set up the perfect reason for Levi’s death. I learned he was stealing from clients and poaching from his partners. He was about to lose everyone, and not able to take it, he booked a trip on the jet—which his partners had told him not to—and shot himself in the head.
How tragic. The poor guy hadn’t sought out help first.
I pull Levi’s leg, tugging him away from Pippa, and watch him slump to the floor, a blood trail following. I’ve killed enough men to set up a suicide scene. As soon as the jet lands, Julian and Emilio will make sure it’s right, and the pilot will be briefed on the statement he’ll give the police.