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I fucking can’t.
Because yes, I fucking love her.
Somewhere along the way, I fell in love with Dakota. So hard I’m bruised. So hard my heart hurts.
And I don’t trust she won’t try anything.
So as soon as she’s on the move, I’m out the fucking door.
I’m so fucking scared, I sent her home with trackers on her. Trackers she doesn’t know about.
Someone bangs on my door.
“Open the fuck up.”
Malone.
I rip open the door and he pushes past me.
“Heard of a phone, Orion?”
His gaze slides down me.
“If you give me fashion advice, I fucking swear…” Then I frown. “Shouldn’t you be organizing the takedown with Jones? I get he must be mad Dakota isn’t part of it but…”
I stare at him.
He stares back. Looks at my arsenal. “If you put on your best Jaxson Carter outfit along with all your nonexistent acting skills, and I pack your weapons in that duffel, promise you won’t shoot the messenger.”
I go cold and everything slants. “What did she do?”
“Don’t shoot anyone.” He holds out his phone. “That little friend sent this to Smith, who sent it to me. I’m guessing you have it, too.”
With a shaking hand, I take it and press play.
There’s my Dakota. Pretty, hair gleaming gold, in my shirt with the shower running behind her. “I don’t have a lot of time. They’re evil, they’re rich. They take. They took me. They’re called The Collectors and?—”
I turn it off. “What the actual fuck.”
“Your bathroom, man.” Malone pushes a hand through his hair. “Shave, change. Now.”
I do, and he tells me how Dakota has the video set to drop tomorrow if there’s no word from her. And now… She’s walking into the lion’s fucking gallery. Malone worked it out with Dakota and Smith, and by proxy, Jones, as a way to bring justice to the senator and future favors if needed for the Knights. But she’s going to get herself killed in the process.
Unless I can stop this before then.
Considering the fact that I’m going to get arrested makes things a little tricky, but fuck it, I’m a Knight…
Everything in me is fizzing. I channel the fear into anger and run that into cold determination.
When I’m ready, we head into Manhattan. I scroll through my phone. Jones. Smith. Mercer, Red. Malone.
Not one fucking thing from Dakota.
“So I get myself arrested?”
It’s so stupid it might work.
Trent’s seated at the oyster bar with that fucking little Amelia. She’s pretty with dark hair and the only thing that might keep her alive is the misery under her big smile she aims at him.
