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Perhaps Naomi had helped him. Yet for some reason, the thought of his sister going through my things pissed me off.
With a huff, I snatched the dress off the hanger and rushed to turn the shower on. A wave of anticipation and a hint of anxiety rolled over me. After two weeks of complete isolation, I would finally be seeing my father.
A part of me hoped he was blindsided like I was. That Manic was lying and everything had been fabricated. It could be, but I was eager to see how Father behaved.
Even though I desperately didn’t want to, I believed Manic had told me the truth. That my father had been working with them and had intentionally chosen not to inform me, despite knowing I was on the mafia’s watch list.
Doubt clung to me, but I ground my teeth and let the hot water spray down my back. If that was the case, I’d give the Crimson Crowes whatever the fuck they wanted.
12
MANIC
I stared into Vancouver from the balcony, my body buzzing as I held a cigarette to my mouth and waited for Sutton. Headlights blurred in faint white streaks along the wet road, honks and splashes gracing my ears seconds later.
We should be leaving in a few minutes, but my impatience continued to simmer the longer I stood here. I flexed my hands, willing the tingling sensation to fade.
It wasn’t the kind of prickle from the biting air of fall or the buzzing high of cocaine. No, this was different. Unfamiliar. It was a tightness pressed against my chest like the air had been stripped from my lungs. Each breath took focused effort as I replayed our conversation from earlier.
Sutton wanted to know her stalker’s name—me.
I blinked hard and dragged in another breath, deeper this time. It didn’t feel like enough, and it was all because of her. It was always because of her.
That devious siren was more observant than I gave her credit for, and I hated that she was right. I did want her to figure it out on her own. I wanted her to solve it and realize that it had been me sabotaging all her dates. That it was me who had plucked those lawyers' eyes out and left them in an empty alley for the local authorities to find. At the time, I’d wanted to drag out their torture, but I’d been absolutely blindsided by rage. They’d touched her—eye fucked her.
They didn’t deserve to have eyes, and so I took them.
And, to my fucking delight, I’d do it again.
Though the coffees I made every morning hadn’t been clear enough for her to realize any of that, so I needed to make it glaringly obvious without telling her.
Only a few things came to mind.
Still, I wondered how she’d look when she realized I wouldn’t be giving her the name of her stalker—not unless she told me what she’d done first. It was going to drive her insane, and knowing that sent a brick of satisfaction to settle in my stomach.
If my assumption was correct, Sutton had done something that had marked her soul—an action that even she couldn’t come back from.
Curiosity beat a dull drum between my ears, but with it was an arousing heat I couldn’t diminish. Just the thought being inside her made me want to climb the fucking wall.
The longer she stayed in my penthouse, the more I wanted to taste her—to peel back each layer and eat her secrets until they were my own. Just breathing the same air tested my restraint. I couldn’t drag her to bed, though. No. Sutton was my ticket to leave this place, not someone to pass the time. I had other women for that, and she wasn’t one of them.
Distance. I needed more distance.
The screaming in my head grew louder, and the familiar need to stab someone coiled inside me. I gripped the glass railing until my knuckles blanched, releasing an annoyed huff. It had been awhile since I quieted the building, mental chaos. The noise. It was a constant thump behind my eyelids.
A visit to the warehouse with my knife might do me some good, considering I’d captured a private investigator just days ago. He was tied to a chair, barely hanging onto his life and missing his fingers. I had yet to kill him, but perhaps torturing him might calm my nerves.
Luka had sent the man to track Sutton down, venturing far too close to the penthouse for my liking after tracing her phone. He would be gone by the end of the week.
I reached for my packet of smokes and pushed the top open, eyeing the one with lipstick. All it did was give me a raging hard-on, reminding me of how Sutton’s mouth felt wrapped around my cock.
It was all I could think about.
It was also the reason I left the penthouse whenever I could—so that I didn’t end up in her room, spreading her legs like an altar ready for me to worship. I wasn’t even religious, but the thought made me want to become a priest.
A huff of amusement escaped my nose the same time the investigator's phone vibrated in my pocket. I dug it out, tension blooming in my shoulders at the text lighting up the screen.
Luka: Did you take care of it?
