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“We’re breaking into a police event tonight. You think they might look twice at something that’s worth more than what they’d earn in their life?”
He runs a hand through his curly black hair. “It was either this or the bike. Grayson said you’d prefer this one.”
Out of the two, he was right.
I toss the mask on the floorboard and get in.
He speeds off and I’m pressed against the headrest.
“Jesus Christ, Jax,” I hiss.
“You can’t drive a beauty like this and not take her to the max.”
He slows down as we pull up into the parking lot. He picks a spot far enough away to scope out the entrance.
“We’re gonna have to go in the back,” Jax says.
I agree.
Tugging at my collar, it suddenly feels tight around my neck. I hate to admit that I’m looking forward to my little reunion with Zara.
My vision fixates on the little red devil outfit walking towards the steps. Tattoos spanning up her left thigh, and a deep plunging neckline which has me licking my lips. Her hair is curly today, so it rests just above her shoulders.
“That one in red, fuck,” Jax groans next to me.
The sight of her makes me dig my nails into my palms.
Mine.
Zara is mine.
Whether she likes it or not.
14
ZARA
Song- THE DEATH OF PEACE OF MIND, Bad Omens
I sip on my champagne and plaster on a smile, just how Dad trained me to. With my black lace mask secured firmly on my face and my tattoos proudly on show. A final ‘fuck you’ to my father. He’s lucky the mask covers the shiner he left me with. I’ve stayed firmly in the shadows, watching his every move, waiting for the opportunity to slip away to his office.
As soon as he’s busy chatting to my superiors, including Alex in the corner, I down the last of the glass.
My breath hitches as an almost familiar figure enters the room. A designer black tux that hugs his frame perfectly. It’s a shame he’s wearing a scream mask, so I can’t see his damn face.
I head to the back of the hall, keeping my distance from my father, brushing straight past that man in the mask. That’s when that expensive aftershave hits my nose. The same one Frankie wears. My pulse picks up, and I quicken my pace, my heels clicking on the wooden floors as I head through the double doors into the dimly lit hallway.
I rush towards my dad’s office, pulling out the spare key I have from my purse. Taking one last look around, I unlock it and push it open.
My heart is in my throat the entire time. Closing the door behind me, I toss my bag on the chair in front of the desk and start my search.
Pulling open the first drawer, I crouch down and start weeding out all the random paperwork. Old police reports, receipts, pictures of him and Mom from years ago. I toss it all back in and go for the next drawer.
Again, nothing.
“Come on, where are you?” I mutter under my breath.
If I know my father, he has always kept diaries. Every single day since the day I was born. My entire life is in one of his little black books.
