And again.
He held his hand around her throat. So tightly she could scarcely breathe. He leaned in; his breath smelled like scotch.
“You get to know nothing. Because you are nothing. All you are is a pawn for me to use, isn’t that right, Betsy? Because I own you, don’t I? So what you get to know is what I tell you. Just do as you’re fucking told and you’ll get to live another day.”
He drew her away from the wall then shoved her out the door, closing it behind her. She fell back on her ass on the floor, wincing as pain radiated up her tailbone.
She sat there for a moment, wrapping her arms around her legs as she brought them up to her chest.
Heaving in breath after breath, she tried to bring her shaking under control. One day, he’d lose his control. He’d take things too far. And then she’d be dead.
With a longing glance, she stared over at the front door. She knew she wouldn’t even get off the property. There were cameras and alarms everywhere. Someone was always listening and watching.
She had no privacy. No will of her own. A pawn in an evil man’s game.
But she couldn’t just stand by and let him ruin a good man’s life. Maybe he didn’t plan to kill Ink, but there was some reason he was making her do this. Making her get close to him.
She bet he’d never thought of her going against him. That she’d actually come to care for Ink.
There was a low rumbling noise and she glanced up, frowning as she realized that the door was still partially open. After a quick glance around to ascertain she was alone, she moved closer to the door. It was risky. If someone was monitoring the cameras and saw her then Forrest would lose his shit.
But this was her chance.
“Stupid bitch. Does she really think she gets to ask questions? She needs to learn her place.”
“Betsy will do as she’s told. You have enough over her to ensure that,” Kit said in that bored voice.
“Ought to go up there and teach her a fucking lesson.”
She stiffened at the sound of footsteps, looking around frantically for somewhere to hide.
“It will delay your plans if you bruise her,” Kit reminded his boss.
“Fuck.”
“You still want to frame the biker for your brother’s murder?”
What? He wanted to put the blame on Ink for Jonathan’s murder? But why? What did Forrest even care? Unless…
“I need to get the old man to stop focusing on me. I need to give him a scapegoat. Those fucking MC dickheads are perfect. They’re nobodies. Not tied to anyone who will retaliate. And they were seen outside Jonathan’s house in the weeks leading up to his murder.”
“And Ink is the one without a solid alibi for that night,” Kit surmised.
“Exactly. All we need is Betsy to get close to him, plant some fucking evidence then steer the stupid pigs onto him.”
“That shouldn’t be hard.”
“Not that he’ll be going to jail. The old man will make sure he comes to some nasty end before then. But I need to look squeaky clean so that the old man never suspects that I framed that fucking biker dickhead. Which is where Betsy comes in. We’ll need to get rid of her after.”
“Consider it done.”
Both men laughed. And she turned, rushing up the stairs, her hand over her mouth. She barely made it into her private bathroom before her meagre dinner came back up. She vomited until there was nothing left. Then she lay on the cool, marble floor trying to get her racing thoughts to make sense of it all.
She rested a hand on her queasy stomach. Forrest hadn’t been close to his brother as far as she could tell. She had met his father once. While he was a respected member of society, there was something very off about him.
Forrest was going to frame Ink for murder. He had some sort of evidence for her to plant once she got closer to Ink.
She had to warn him.