Ducking down in the back of the car so Ginny couldn’t see him, he had waited until Soleil had gone inside Ginny’s home before he had snuck out to keep an eye on what was going on inside. Looking through a window, he could see the two women talking while being unable to hear them. He really didn’t give a fuck what lies Soleil spun as long as she would give Ginny the pin and video drive.
The sudden opening of the door and Ginny coming out had him running around the side of the house to remain out of sight. Witnessing Soleil giving Ginny the pin and the drive had him prematurely thinking she was actually going to do right by her daughter.
As Ginny had walked away, toward a clump of trees, he had been about to come out of hiding. If he hadn’t been standing by the end of the house, where neither woman could see him, placing him behind Soleil’s back, he would have missed what the bitch had been doing.
Running toward Soleil, he had been able to grab the pistol she had pointed at Ginny’s withdrawing back with one hand and smashing a hand over her mouth to prevent her from screaming.
Struggling for the gun, Soleil had frantically tried to escape his hold.
“You fucking bitch. You’re going to kill your own grandchild?”
From the wild-eyed look Soleil had given him, Desmond knew Soleil would never cooperate with the FBI or would never stop trying to kill Ginny to get Gabriel out of jail. A coldness had come over him then that Desmond was familiar with, despite all the years of living in the upper echelons of society. He had resorted to the level of a street thug to save the woman who carried Reaper’s child.
He was fucking tired of evil winning, for once good was going to win, regardless of the cost. So be it if Soleil’s death would be yet another reason he was destined for hell.
Their struggle had them crashing into the door, his hand slipping from the gun and her frantically aiming the gun at Ginny again.
Wrapping his free arm around Soleil’s neck, he had used his body to bash her into the doorframe, with his other hand keeping her from screaming. Then he had given a sudden twist, snapping her neck.
Dragging Soleil’s body through the door, which had come open when they had crashed into it, he had placed her inside before going to get the purse Soleil had dropped. If he couldn’t see Ginny, he had planned to carry Soleil to the car. Then, as he had neared the purse, he could hear a clicking sound coming from inside.
When he picked the purse up, his life had flashed before his eyes. The fucking bitch had planned to fucking blow Ginny’s body up after killing her, and the incriminating evidence he had given her to give to Ginny.
Hearing another click, he had reflexively thrown the purse with the bomb through the open doorway, and as it flew through the air, he had started running.
Flinging the car door open, he had felt a burning pain strike his leg as the house exploded, flinging him inside the car. Raising his head, he had managed to get the car started, backing it out of the driveway while putting the fire out on his pant leg.
Driving through Treepoint, he had passed the fire trucks heading toward the mountain where Ginny’s house had been.
Draining the whiskey bottle of the last sip, he morosely glared down at his injured thigh under his black sweats. It was the only evidence that could place him near the bomb when it had gone off, and Soleil’s death.
Ginny and Reaper might have to rebuild their dream home, but their main dream of having a future together would never be put in harm’s way again. Not from Soleil, Gabriel, and certainly not from Ivan. The information he had given Soleil shed light on why they had been so frantic in finding her as a child and had led to the deaths of three men and the removal of the Clindale inhabitants.
All he had to do was wait and see what Ginny did with the information and go to Rhone’s island this weekend. Afterward, he could send Haley back to Kansas City and never see her again. This should be a piece of cake, he buoyed himself up. Right? Then why did he fucking feel as if he had broken something priceless?
Twenty-Seven
Holding two cups of coffee in a carrier, Haley carried her suitcase in her other hand as she approached Desmond’s private plane. Ignoring the man’s side-eye to the escort walking next to her for not carrying her things, she focused on the tall man in a pilot’s uniform standing with Desmond beside the open stairwell of the plane.