Page 2 of Cruel Shame

Her thin lips twisted into a smile. “Elizabeth and I are more than friends.”

Despite the clattering of my heart, my gossip instincts bubbled to the surface. Part of me longed to tell Myra that Elizabeth had made a move on me during the Christmas break, but self-preservation kicked that part to the back of my mind and told it to shut the fuck up… At least until someone bursted into the room and subdued the gun-toting wench.

Myra aimed the gun at my head. “Go on. Make your confession.”

I swallowed hard, my gaze darting to the door. When the fuck was someone going to realize I was in peril? In the distance, another gunshot sounded, and my heart fell.

As though reading my mind, Myra smirked. “It’s day one of duck-hunting season, and no one is coming to your rescue.”

“Right.” I tried to keep the bitterness out of my voice.

“Do it.” Myra waved the gun. “Tell us how you tricked Elizabeth into selling cocaine to innocent students.”

My lips pressed into a thin line. I knew how this scenario would play out. Myra would hand this confession to Elizabeth, who would give it to her precious Uncle Camden, the Deputy Chief Constable of Police Scotland. Then I’d be the one facing drug charges and no one would believe that I’d been forced to confess at gunpoint.

“Tell the camera what you did,” said Myra.

Cringing on the broken glass, I stared into the barrel of her gun. It looked like a plastic replica compared to Billy Hancock’s firearms. My gaze wandered to the broken window. No replica could have exacted that much damage.

Her features pinched, and she bared prominent teeth. “Hand-job, I won’t ask you again.”

“Alright,” I snapped. “It’s all true.”

“What is?”

Sweat gathered on my palms, but I didn’t dare move them in case Myra got nervous and shot me between the eyes. “You’re the one with the gun. Why don’t you tell me?”

Annoyance flickered across her witchy features. “You’re supposed to make a confession.”

“I confess.”

“You’re being vague on purpose.” She drew back the arm holding the gun, looking like she was going to slam its butt against my skull.

Without meaning to, I flinched. “I’m doing exactly what you said.”

My throat dried. No matter how much I wanted to cooperate with Myra, every long-term survival instinct told me it was a bad idea. The Liddells wanted to get rid of me. They were willing to fabricate fake DNA tests and accuse Mr. Burgh of raping his own daughter to conceive me. They would twist anything I said on camera to make sure I didn’t get a penny of their money.

My jaw clenched. If I condemned myself, how long would it take to prove my innocence? Forever, most probably. And they would both deny that Elizabeth had told Myra to hold me at gunpoint.

“How far have you gone with Elizabeth?” I asked.

Myra’s lips tightened. “She isn’t a whore like you.”

A flare of triumph filled my heart. I would bet any amount that Elizabeth had strung the other girl along. Arching my back and stretching the fabric of my shirt over my chest, I said, “Don’t tell me you’re holding someone at gunpoint for a girl who hasn’t even gone down on you?”

“Stop being so disgusting!”

“Did you go down on her?” I asked.

Myra’s lips parted. “That’s none of your business!”

That time Elizabeth had pounced on me, I had only escaped her clutches because she thought I wanted to take over the kiss. Elizabeth liked her girls aggressive, and Myra was just the type.

Tilting my head to the side, I said, “If I had a girlfriend, I wouldn’t lie back and let her do all the work. We’d take it in turns or do a sixty-nine.”

Myra’s gaze flickered to my thighs. “I expect you’ve done lots of those.”

“With my boyfriend, yeah.” I raised a shoulder, thinking of the fight I had with Sammy that ended with me stabbing him in the arm. “He discussed a threesome with another girl before I moved up north.”