Knit One

“I am warning you, Isabella, say nothing.”

It was all I could do to keep from biting her fingers. How dare she put her filthy hand over my mouth? Who did she think she was?

I pushed her hand away and glared at her. “Don’t tell me what to do, Rachel,” I hissed. “You’re the one who can never keep her mouth shut about anything.”

She raised her hand as if to strike me, but she must have seen in my eyes the promise that if she touched me again, she would be sorrier than she’d ever been, and she lowered it quickly. “No one can know this,” she whispered urgently. “This is a secret I can easily take to my grave.”

“Oh, certainly,” I agreed. “It’s your ass on the line, after all. Stop–” I held up my hand, palm facing her. “If you raise your hand one more time, I will put you on the ground right next to him!”

If I hadn’t seen it then, I would never have believed she could go any paler that she already was. “I had to do it, don’t you see? He was coming for me!”

“Of course I see, you twit!” I snapped. “But standing around threatening me because I caught you in the act isn’t going to keep you out of prison!”

“Oh, God, Isabella!”

“Be quiet and go get a shovel!”

She was off like a flash.

I stared down at the body and wondered why some men had to be such despicable creatures. Rachel’s knitting needle had gone straight through his neck. How frightened did a girl have to be to find the strength to do such a thing?

I should have done it myself years ago…

Before I realized what I was doing, my kick landed in his groin. “Rest in peace, Uncle Doug.”

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