Chapter 260

#Chapter 260 – Taking her Out Victor and Edgar sit in the driver and passenger seats of a basic black sedan with darkly tinted windows, watching the restaurant where Amelia has agreed to meet for lunch.

“Seriously, Victor,” Edgar says quietly, staring out the window and not at his friend. “You don’t think Amelia is going to be suspicious when she sees me getting out of this car?”

Victor just shakes his head. “No. Amelia doesn’t pay attention to cars unless they’re luxury vehicles.

Bad shoes, she’ll notice. Boring car…under her radar. Besides,” he pauses for a moment. Curious, Edgar turns to look at him. “She thinks you’re poor. It won’t bug her that you’re getting out of a cheap car.”

Edgar rolls his eyes and looks back to the restaurant. “You just added another thousand dollars to the tab for that,” he murmurs, looking around.

Victor just laughs, a sound that doesn’t express the steely determination he feels inside. This is going to work – even if something goes wrong, he’s going to make it work.

Both men’s heads turn when they see a tall, slim figure in impossibly high heels turn the corner and head for the door of the restaurant.

“Go time,” Victor says softly, hunching down a little in his seat even though he knows Amelia can’t see him.

“In a minute,” Edgar says softly, watching her every move. “Let her go inside first, get comfortable.

Then I’ll move.”

Victor nods, happy to let Edgar make the call. It is, after all, an operation that hinges on his ability to make Amelia feel at ease. If she figures out the trap and bolts, they may never get this chance again.

A few tense minutes pass as Edgar and Victor watch Amelia be seated in the busy restaurant. Finally, Edgar sits up straight when he sees Amelia roll her eyes, finally bored enough to take a sip of her water and check her phone. Clearly, she’s calm now.

“All right,” Edgar says, looking Victor solidly in the eye. “Ten minutes?”

“Ten minutes,” Victor agrees.

Edgar gets out of the car, and, after he enters the restaurant, Victor puts the car in drive and pulls down the road. It makes him crazy to not actually see the action go down – he, of course, wants to be part of all of it. But he trusts Edgar, trusts his men, and he needs to play his own role in this whole charade.

So, he goes in blind and crosses his fingers that in ten minutes everything goes precisely as they planned.

Edgar enters the restaurant, slipping his hands into his pockets and making his way over to her – this incredibly beautiful, remarkably cruel and vengeful woman. Edgar can’t help the smirk that crosses his face. Honestly, he has to admit that he kind of likes that Amelia has some heat in her veins. That she didn’t just roll over and let herself be casually dumped by her mate, the most powerful Alpha in the country.

Of course, she went way too far, starting a war and burning down her ex’s house.

But still. Edgar likes them spicy.

“Hello, Beta,” Amelia says, a little smile playing on her own lips as he crosses the room to her.

“Amelia,” he replies, sinking into his chair ignoring her little dig. He’s not a Beta anymore, but Amelia is trying to let him know – not so subtly – that in her book he will always be subservient to her.

Well, he thinks. We’ll just see about that.

Amelia takes a deep breath, picking up the menu between two fingers and scanning the contents. “Why did you pick this dump?” she asks. “Italian food is…so over.”

“Is it?” Edgar asks, picking up the old familiar menu and pretending to glance over the contents. “I was unaware. I thought you’d like it. It’s…European.”

“Italy is barely Europe,” Amelia murmurs, sighing and looking around.

“Oh,” Edgar replies, smiling at her. “Well, you’ll have to let the Italians in on that little secret. I’m not sure they’re aware.”

Amelia glares at him then, crossing her arms over her chest, tired of the game. “So, what do you have for me, Edgar?” she says, her voice tight. “You promised me something useful on Evelyn, that whore.”

“You know they’re engaged now, right?” Edgar asks casually, reaching for his glass of water and taking a sip, enjoying the way Amelia’s lips go stiff with rage and her cheeks flush red when she hears the news.

“No,” she bites out, between her teeth. “I did not know that.” She narrows her eyes at him. “It hasn’t been on any of the gossip blogs or in the media. How do you know?”

He shrugs a little. “My intel is just better than yours.”

“Fine,” she growls, taking his bait a bit, getting angry precisely when he wants her angry enough to be distracted as the waiters walk between the tables with empty trays, not delivering any food. “You said you’re on my side, Edgar – that you want Victor and Evelyn taken down because they did to you what they did to me. So, if your intel is so good, tell me what you have on her.”

“What’s it worth to you?” Edgar asks, holding Amelia’s gaze and deliberately not looking at the door to the kitchen opening behind her.

“It’s worth,” she hisses, “what it’s worth. I’ll pay you when I know what you’ve got.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” Edgar continues, shaking his head at her.

“Then how, precisely, does it work?” Amelia asks, staring into his eyes, angry.

Edgar leans forward, holding her gaze. “Like this,” he whispers. And then he raises his hand and snaps his fingers once.

The room bursts into action. Everyone – chefs, waiters, patrons – they all drop precisely what they’re doing and move, as one, to cover the exits, to block her movement. Two of the waiters – too muscular for the job – drop their trays and grab Amelia. She screams as one twists her arms behind her back, another slapping a strip of duct tape across her mouth so that the sound is immediately cut off.

An old woman running the reception quickly finishes closing the blinds and then nods to Edgar, a warm smile on her face, happy to help. Edgar gives her a happy nod and then gestures to the waiters, who hoist Amelia into the air. As a trio, they head through the kitchen and towards the back of the restaurant.

Amelia struggles and screams as they pass the empty galley, the cool burners. Edgar knew she wouldn’t order any food anyway, so the actual chefs who work here got the day off. Everyone else in the restaurant had all been Victor’s people, happy to play pretend for the day.

It had barely been a gamble. Amelia’s struggles are no match for the Betas’ strength, and she’s carried to the back door, where two more Betas wait with more duct tape, which they wrap around her ankles, her thighs, and binding her upper arms to her torso so that the supermodel is neatly bound and gagged, ready for the next part of the plan.

When she’s ready, Edgar nods and one of the Betas pushes open the door, which opens to face the open back doors of a white delivery van.

And, standing right next to those open doors, is Victor.

Amelia’s eyes go wide when she sees him.

“Hello, Amelia,” Victor says quietly as the Betas carry her forward. They pause at the entrance to the car. “I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again for quite some time now.”

Amelia’s eyes narrow with ferocity and she shouts something beneath her gag – though, of course, no one can truly understand it. Victor looks away from her, not intending to listen anyway.

“Pack it up,” he says briskly, climbing into the back of the van. The four Betas climb in, bringing Amelia with them. Edgar jumps in last, pulling the doors shut behind him.

“All right,” Victor says, banging on the foggy window that separates the back of the van from the drivers up front. “Let’s move on to phase two.”

Slowly, at a casual pace that suggests that the drivers are merely going about their daily business, the van pulls out from the driveway behind the restaurant and hits the road.

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