“Lucky me.”
Terror lanced her veins as she sought a way out. Samantha hadn’t the foggiest idea what she’d done to deserve this, but if he thought to kill her, he wouldn’t do it without a fight. She wouldn’t go quietly.
Never again.
The toes of her boots bit into the floor as she lunged toward the door. Mark’s body collided with hers, taking them both to the floor. The air whooshed from her lungs as they landed, his larger, heavier frame pinning her to the hardwood. Bile rose in her throat as she felt the hard ridge of his erection against her ass.
No, no, no. This wasn’t happening.
Her chest burned with the need for oxygen when he fisted her hair and jerked her head back. “Don’t get excited. I have other plans for you. But, if you keep struggling I might change my mind.”
Samantha stilled, her heart pounding a violent beat.
“That’s a good girl.” His breath hummed against her ear as he pressed into her again before he hoisted up and pulled her to her feet. “If you try to escape me, I will kill them. Starting with that little blonde you favor. Amanda, is it?” He brushed a tender hand down her cheek before shoving the barrel of a gun under her chin. “Don’t do anything stupid, and I’ll make it quick. Otherwise … well … let’s just say it won’t be pleasant for you. Now, move.”
He pushed her when she apparently didn’t move fast enough. “I don’t understand. What is this about? I thought —”
“You thought as I wanted you to think,” Mark spat, prodding her down the hallway and back into the living room. She stumbled as he shoved her toward the couch. “You’re a puppet, you stupid whore, nothing more. I control your strings. Do you think Carlotta found you by chance?”
Samantha dropped to the couch, shocked by the fact that somehow, Mark knew Carlotta, yet still very much aware of the gun pointed at her chest. “How do you know Carlotta?”
Mark sighed as if she’d irritated him. “You’ll die soon, so I’ll tell you. She was my sister.” His voice lacked any sense of affection. “She actually thought I’d forgiven her. That I’d come back as some sort of angel to save her from her life of misery.”
He made a noise of disgust as he looked down at her. “She was a distraction, used to make you think her idiot husband was stalking you. Of course, I prodded her into questioning her husband’s fidelity, which produced some nasty results, as you might remember. Vincent wasn’t the kind of man who liked to be questioned.”
That wasn’t the story Carlotta had told her about the abuse, but she was beginning to think nothing was as she’d thought.
“Once the ball was rolling, so to speak, I was able to search for the information I needed. It really wasn’t that difficult to make you think Vincent had been the one to break into your office and your apartment.”
“What were you looking for?” She couldn’t stop herself from asking.
His eyes narrowed on her. “Who Caleb Martin cared about. He’d never talked about his family with me. I wanted to know who to take from him that would bring him the most pain. You were most helpful in that regard, by the way.”
Samantha stared at him, trying to process what he’d said.
Caleb. He wanted to hurt Caleb. He wanted to hurt her to hurt Caleb.
She should keep him talking. Keep him distracted until she could figure out what to do. Vincent had been murdered, what about… “Where’s Carlotta?”
He gave her a self-satisfied grin. “Dead.”
She closed her eyes against the pain that tore through her chest. “You killed her?”
“You’re damn right I killed her!” Mark got in her face, his shout loud enough rattle the windows and a few of her teeth. “She deserved to die. She left me out there to rot. She believed them when they told her I’d died, just as Caleb had believed them. Caleb is a mindless tool—a slave to those who command him—and he’ll pay for his part in what happened to me. But, Carlotta was my sister. She should’ve known I was alive. She should’ve insisted they look for me.”
Mark grabbed her jaw and forced her to look at him. “Don’t you dare feel sorry for that bitch. I did her a favor. She was weak, broken. Easily manipulated. And … she didn’t marry very well.”
Samantha fought back tears as his fingers bit into her flesh. “Did you kill Vincent too?”
He let go and crouched down to eye level. “I stole your lover’s knife. Considering the use I put it to, he should have been arrested. How glorious it would’ve been to kill you while he was behind bars, unable to do anything to save you. Only, he didn’t leave you alone and they didn’t arrest him, did they? They fucking let him go.” He dragged the barrel of his gun across her legs. “Now, I’ll have to improvise.”