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I stride into my office, my mind buzzing with the thrill of last night’s kill. Another name crossed off The List, another asshole permanently removed from this world. It’s a thrill, knowing I can dispense justice where the system fails.
Jess, my assistant, jumps to attention as I exit the elevator, her heels clicking rapidly on the marble floor as she rushes to my side.
“Mr. Wolfe,” she says, a vision in pink. Jess looks more like a real housewife of wherever than she does the best damn executive assistant I’ve ever had. I’d be lost without her.
“Good morning,” she continues, keeping step with me. Word on the street is that Justin Storm is considering selling, and you’re scheduled to meet with him at 11 today.
I freeze, my eyes narrow. “Where did you hear that?”
In my world, information is currency, and I pride myself on always being one step ahead. The thought that something could have slipped past me deeply unsettles me.
Jess shrugs, unfazed by my intensity. “I ran into his assistant last night at On the Rocks. Poor thing is overworked and underappreciated, and I’m a good listener,” she explains with a mischievous glint in her eyes.
I chuckle. “Am I paying you enough?”
“Can one ever be paid too much?” she says with an easy laugh as she follows me into my sprawling corner office. The view of downtown LA never fails to take my breath away, but my eyes quickly return to the portfolio Jess sets on my desk.
“Anyway, I put together a portfolio of what he has, highlighting what I think would most interest you. The research on reactivating neural pathways, which was scrapped for cost not bad science,” she adds. “There’s not much time before he arrives,” she says, glancing at her watch before setting down the coffee mug and leaving me at peace to look over her research.
I lean back in my leather chair and take a moment to savor the news. Oh, the money I could make with technology like this. The secrets I could uncover, the enemies I could unmake. A slow, wicked smile spreads across my face.
Justin Storm has no idea who he’s dealing with. But he will. Soon enough, they all will.
I lift the dossier Jess had left, skimming through it, but my mind stubbornly drifts back to the captivating detective. Seeing her in the flesh is far more enticing than the glimpses on the nightly news. She’s slender yet robust, a woman who cultivates strength, ready to defend herself with or without her firearm. She’s stunning, but in a city like L.A., attractive faces are a dime a dozen, and Francesca is more than just another pretty face.
She’s smart. Shrewd. An exceptional detective.
And I’m ready to bring her down.
My mind floods with visions of pinning her beneath me, driving into her hard and deep as she cries out for more, scratching and clawing at my back, driven wild by my touch.
When she comes all over me, will her eyes be a deep, rich brown or a light amber hue? The fear that flashes in her eyes when I wrap my hand around her throat makes my cock twitch.
Will I end her life then and there, or will I give her the best orgasm of her life?
Maybe both.
Maybe not.
Francesca has no idea what’s in store for her, but I can hardly contain myself. It’s time to kick it up a notch. My need to have her, to own her, to destroy her is bubbling to the surface, and there’s only one way to simmer it.
Get closer.
A quick knock sounds on the door before Jess enters, a smile playing on her lips. “Storm is here, so consider this your five-minute warning.”
“Thank you, Jess.” The games never cease, but while I enjoy the daylight games, it’s the ones at night that fuel my vengeance.
CHAPTER FOUR
Frankie
“If I don’t get some coffee soon, I’m going to collapse right here in the park.” I’m so worn out I can barely keep my eyes open. We’ve spent the entire morning searching St. Jude’s Park for the appendage that the twisted bastard cut off Ryder Beaumont and found nothing. Not a single clue.
“Lucky for you, I know the perfect place.” Jay gestures for me to follow him, and I do without question because as long as I get coffee, I can handle anything. “Beans & Things is just up the street.”
The name of my favorite coffee spot brings a smile to my face. “You don’t even need to ask.” The tan and brown awning is just a few blocks away, and since I can’t stop thinking about this case and the killer, we pause half a dozen times on the way. “You think we’ll find the dick?”
Jay’s expression tells me everything, but his words make it clear. “Nope. He chopped it off for a reason. Maybe he’s keeping them in jars, or maybe he’s eating them, but he’s definitely not tossing them in the trash, that’s for fucking sure.”
