Instantly, Bonnie’s face transformed into feral confidence. “Ah, Clarity. Good timing.” She pointed her stick at me. “Kindly remove the vase from Ms. Weaver’s control.”
“Right away, ma’am.” I had no hope of holding onto it one-handedly as he snatched it from my sling. He was smaller than Marquise but had the same evil glint and malicious satisfaction. His bald head shone with the sconces around the room.
He didn’t look at me again as he placed the flowers back on the trestle. “You summoned me?”
Bonnie nodded, smoothing fly-away hairs from her chignon. “Go and fetch the Dremel and a bucket of water and vinegar.”
He cocked his head in my direction. “You okay alone?”
“I’ll be fine. Go.”
Clarity nodded. “On it.” He left, closing the door behind him.
I hated she trusted she could be in the same room with me—even after my outburst. I hated I came across so weak that she didn’t feel she needed protection.
Make her regret that.
“Trust me alone with you now?” I tilted my head. “Rather a stupid thing to do, don’t you think?”
My hands curled as thoughts of killing her ran wild. I had nothing to lose anymore. Jethro was in Africa. I didn’t know where Jasmine was. V was hopefully back with Tex. And Kes was in the custody of doctors and nurses. We were scattered to four corners, no longer touching but still linked.
I could kill Bonnie before Cut killed me.
Bonnie smirked. “Child, you have a broken arm, most likely a fever, and death looming on your horizon. I have no need to fear a guttersnipe like you. You just used whatever energy you had. You can’t deny it. You’re positively dripping with exertion and fatigue.” Turning her back on me—showing just how little she viewed me as a threat—she snapped, “Now, after that highly inappropriate incident, return to the subject. What about Jethro?”
“What about him?”
She cleared her throat angrily. “Am I correct in assuming he’s still alive?”
Rage spread like wildfire through my system. I might not have knitting needles or scalpels, but I couldn’t stomach this old bitch any longer. “Yes, as a matter of fact. He is alive, and I was telling the truth. He’s on his way to kill you all.”
She flinched, unable to hide her sudden suspicions. “I don’t believe you.”
I shrugged. “You don’t have to believe me for it to be true.”
For a second, silence was a third entity in the room before Bonnie laughed. “Cut would’ve mentioned such a thing. You’re lying. Didn’t your mother ever tell you liars go to hell?”
“Was she supposed to tell me that before or after you killed her?”
Bonnie tensed. “You’re getting mighty bold for a Weaver about to die.”
I drifted forward. “Bold enough to kill you before I go?”
Say no so I can prove you wrong.
One Hawk soul tallied my own. I wanted two. No, I wanted three before I was through.
The door sailed open, shattering the tension between us. The Black Diamond brother strolled in and placed a bucket of water, sour smelling vinegar, and a power tool on the flower-arranging bench.
Glancing at Bonnie, he wiped his hands on his jeans. His bald head caught the rays of late-morning sunshine.
My body clock was so screwed up; I didn’t know if it was meant to be night or day, sleep or awake.
“Need anything else, ma’am?”
Bonnie pursed her lips, glancing at me with a mixture of wariness and disdain. “Yes, stand by the door. Don’t leave.”
I laughed softly. “Afraid of a Weaver, after all.”
Bonnie snapped her fingers. “Shut that trap and come here. I have work to do.”
Damn.
Now I had an audience; my plans shifted slightly.
Be patient.
She’d grow cocky again and send the brother away. And when she did…
Playing along, for now, I moved toward the table. “What are you going to do?”
She didn’t reply as she shuffled toward a chair, dragged it closer to the bench, and perched on the padded seat. “What do you think, you stupid girl? You’re carrying our money. I want those diamonds. Your arm is currently worth more than your entire family history.”
“I don’t believe that. My family earned its wealth through skill and hard work. Weaving and sewing for dukes and duchesses. We didn’t lower ourselves to smuggling stones and calling it hard work.”
She spluttered. “Soon that tongue of yours will no longer be attached.”
“Why? You plan on cutting that off along with my head?”
She smiled coldly. “Such a temper.”
I smirked back. “I’ve learned from the best.”
I would never bow to her again. Never.
Bonnie huffed, busying herself with an attachment for the small power tool. “Stand here.”
Looking over my shoulder, I calculated how much time I would have before the brother managed to stop me. If I slashed her throat with a pair of scissors, would I have enough seconds or not?
Mulling the problem of murder, I moved to where she pointed.
“Don’t move.”
I didn’t move; too consumed with my own ideas to care about hers.
Bonnie grabbed the Dremel in shaking, arthritic hands and switched on the battery-operated machine. A loud buzzing filled the room as she ordered me to remove my sling and place the cast on the table.