Cut scowled. “If that day ever comes, Ms. Weaver, I can safely say you will not be in attendance.” Holding out his hand, he snapped, “Now, don’t make me ask again. Give me your arm.”
I twisted my body away, hugging my broken limb. “No.”
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
“You already did.”
“What does that tell you?”
I didn’t reply.
He growled, “It tells you I’ll rectify the pain I’ve caused. I have no doubt after each debt Jethro would’ve tended to you. Am I right? He would’ve fixed his wrongs and ensured you were healthy to continue.”
My mouth fell open. “You’re sick.”
I couldn’t stop my eyes flying to Jethro. In my haze of pain, I hadn’t given him attention. I hadn’t seen him thrashing on the floor, desperately trying to get free. I hadn’t witnessed him covering himself in mine dust, furious tears tracking mud down his cheeks.
Oh, Kite.
My heart hurt almost as much as my arm.
Cut pointed to the equipment on the table. “Open your eyes, Nila. What do you think this stuff is?”
Despite myself, I looked closer. Before, the items made no sense…now, they began to.
Gauze, water, padding, and medical packets with jargon stating their contents as plaster strips.
A cast.
He’s going to make you a cast.
I sniffed, fighting back another wash of agony. “If you’re honestly going to set my arm, I want painkillers first.”
I expected a scoff and refusal. But Cut merely nodded and opened a small plastic case. Popping out two tablets from a blister foil, he handed them to me with a bottle of water. “They’re codeine. You’re not allergic, are you?”
I bared my teeth. “Why? You going to care if I have a reaction?”
He frowned. “Despite what I’ve just done, I want you to remain well. We have a long journey ahead of us, and your pain needs to be managed accordingly—minus any allergies.”
I swallowed my fear. “Long journey?”
Cut nodded as I threw the tablets into my mouth and drank. The water slipped down my parched throat like liquid life. I hadn’t eaten or drunk in so long. Too long. The water splashed in my stomach, reminding me how empty it was.
“I didn’t break your arm for fun, Nila.” Cut shoved away the plastic container, ripping open a packet of plaster strips a moment later. “I told you. We smuggle diamonds. We’re going home, and I want to take a few high-quality stones with me. They’re larger than normal and rare. I want to keep them with me at all times.”
“With you at all times? Me, you mean?” Another wave of pain made me hiss.
Cut dumped the plaster into the fresh bucket of water. Steam gently rose from the surface.
“Yes, you.” He busied himself with opening packets and preparing to set my broken bone. I didn’t know what to think. He’d pre-empted this. He’d sat down logically, cool-headedly, and planned to break my arm then gathered enough supplies to fix it in the same location.
Who does that?
The answer dripped with sarcasm. A Hawk.
Once his supplies were in order and the plaster reaction had ceased, Cut held up a plastic splint. Three sides, smooth and well formed, with little compartments hidden where my arm would rest.
“Now you know I’m not going to hurt you, will you give me your arm?”
I hugged my wrist, looking at Jethro rejected in the dirt. “Let him go.”
Cut looked over his shoulder before glancing back. “No. Now, give me your arm.”
Shakes stole my body, shock trying to erase everything that’d happened. “Please, at least untie him.”
Jethro looked in pain, squashed on his side. I dreaded to think how he coped with my internal and external screams when Cut broke my arm.
Had he felt it?
Had he lived through it like Vaughn used to whenever I fell and hurt myself?
Shit, Vaughn.
He always knew when I’d broken something. Twin intuition. Would he ache in his right arm in sympathy? Would he terrorize England trying to find me, or worse, stampede Hawksridge Hall trying to save me?
Cut laughed. “Why? So he can stupidly attack me and get himself re-killed in the process?” He rolled his eyes.
It was such a juvenile, simple thing to do that it sent chills scattering down my spine.
His temper thickened. “I won’t ask again, Nila. Arm. Now.”
The painkillers already siphoned into my blood thanks to no food delaying the absorption. I had no other choice but to let Cut fix me.
Not that there was any fixing me. Not after the past six months.
Gingerly, breathing hard through my nose and hissing through my teeth, I gently laid my arm in the three-sided cast.
Cut tutted. “No, not in there. Not yet.” Slipping it free, he opened the opaque ziplock bag and pulled out multiple black velvet pouches. Holding one up, he smiled. “In each of these parcels rests over one million pounds worth of stones—total of five million.” His eyes landed on my diamond collar. “Almost as priceless as the gems around your neck.”
Meticulously, he slipped the parcels into the sections cut out of the plastic splint. “They’ll be hidden. They’re not metallic, so they won’t set off the alarm, and they won’t be inside you, so they won’t show up on the body scanners.”
Alarms?
Body scanners?
He’s going to fly me home and force me to lie to airport security.