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“Yes, Mom.” My new phone’s in my handbag. It’s fully charged, just like I said. I know because I’ve checked it no less than a dozen times.
I give her a quick hug and kiss.
Her smile is hesitant. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yes, I promise. Have fun.” I give her arm a squeeze and wave to her date.
I walk out of the bar but decide against the Uber. Walking down the street, I’m assaulted by the coolish night air. And the pressure of being watched hovers over me like a black cloud.
It’s just nerves. I can’t let what happened on that island rule the way I live. I need to be strong but vigilant. I make a left around a corner and continue down the street before ducking into an alley. A shuddering breath expels from my lungs as I press against the wall, waiting to see if anyone walks past.
Turns out those footsteps belonged to a couple wandering toward the bar.
I’m being ridiculous, seeing things, feeling things that aren’t there. Any time I think I see something or hear something, nobody is watching. There’s no tall, broad figure in the shadows.
No Jaxson.
“Just go home,” I mutter to myself.
I step out of the alley and take a few steps down the street. The sense of being followed doesn’t leave me. Again, I dart down one of the residential streets, turning quickly around, but still there’s no one.
This will eventually end. I know it.
I reach into my bag for my phone when a strong hand grips my shoulder and pulls me backward.
A gasp slips from my lips, and the scent of darkness and mossy earthiness, the sensual aroma that haunts my dreams, fills my nostrils.
I’m shoved hard into the narrow space between two apartment buildings.
I look up at Jaxson. Warm and real and everything I want.
My eyes narrow as I gaze up at him. He looks different. Darker, bearded, more dangerous. Hotter than any inferno.
Mine.
“Hello, Daddy.”
TWENTY-ONE
orion
“Hello, baby girl.”
I hold her in place with her back against the wall. The urge to push up her dress, rip off her panties, and take her like a beast is real. I want to sink my teeth into her throat, bring the fading bruises back so they’re screaming with color. I want to kiss her, suck on her tits, her pussy, make her blow me.
I want to taste her all over because I can.
All week, all fucking week, I’ve been following her, watching. Outside her place, tailing her when she’s gone out shopping, for a run, or to the gym. I’ve been there.
I’ve followed her almost predawn loops of Central Park. I had to slow down to match her pace, but it fed my fantasies about all the places along the way I could fuck her.
Not that we were alone. A lot of people run before work, but my fantasies don’t ever include them.
I should have left tonight as a fantasy instead of crossing the line I’ve been toeing all week.
Fuck her father, anyway, for asking me to watch her in that irritating way he has where it comes off as an order.
Smith’s not even my fucking boss. Not really. There are tiers of importance, a hierarchy to the Knights, and there are those who carry a lot of power, probably those none of us have met. I don’t know, and I don’t care. Being my own boss, picking and choosing jobs, I like that part. But Smith… he knows I’ll see this whole thing through. My debt is paid as far as I’m concerned, but there are still loose ends that need tying.
