No Strings Attached

Chapter Thirty One

She’d not used the silencer – first, because she didn’t know how – and secondly, because it didn’t really do what it says on the tin – as she’d found out in her own apartment now two weeks ago. It didn’t silence jack shit – it just made it quieter.

So, because she hadn’t used the silencer, she wasn’t surprised when Jayden strolled through into the room two seconds later, and leaned nonchalantly against the door frame, eyes cast down on the snivelling, simpering little prick writhing in agony on the floor.

He’d not even bothered to change out of his jeans and white polo shirt from earlier.

Sebastienne had reached for his gun at one point, but she’d not moved it away from target once, so he once again looked up at the dishevelled woman on the bed, and changed his mind.

“Well, well,” Jayden said casually, “From your arrival, I’d say it’s pretty clear who your little grass is.”

Sebastienne started – disgruntled – he’d been so preoccupied with whining, he’d not even heard Jayden’s advance.  He angrily blew a breath out, wincing at the sudden movement in his body, before growling back at the other man.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Caine!”

Jay chuckled lightly, coming round to stand over the simpering pervert, and he quickly shifted the muscles in his neck with a click, before glancing over to Shannon with a grin.

“Sounds more French when he’s crying, doesn’t he?”

“Yup,” she popped the p at the end, before shifting against the pillows to make herself more comfortable, “I did my bit, anyway. He’s not dead, but this isn’t a sleepover.”

Shannon’s body shook as she snuggled into the pillows – despite Jay’s quiet words in her ear earlier, it was still unnerving – but it had to be done if she was going to keep herself and Nate safe. He’d panicked, having Ava and Tori in the house with them, but everything had to be exactly as normal if Sebastienne was going to hit like they expected – which he’d have to, otherwise they couldn’t get him.

Which is why Jayden had had to slip Tori a sleeping tablet, so that the gunshot wouldn’t wake her.

And why Franchetti strolled into the room just moments before Jayden crouched down into Sebastienne’s terrified face.

It hadn’t stopped the nightmares, or the fear, from hitting her though – even though it was expected, she could never be comfortable with a stranger – a crazed, psychotic stalkerish type of stranger – at the foot of her bed while she slept – not with her past.

“Nate’s up tomorrow,” he said quietly, as though he was talking about the weather – except his voice had an ice cold restraint that was somehow the most menacing thing about the scene in front of her, “I’m going to leave his woman sleep, while we prepare his welcome home present.”

His fist struck heavily – from out of nowhere it seemed – with all of the sudden, resonant impact of a lightning strike, and Franchetti clicked his fingers as Antonio appeared from behind the doorframe with a roll of duct tape, just as Sebastienne hit the floor – out cold.