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“Will you get that thing out of my ass crack,” she angry-whispers.
I dip my chin and press my lips against the shell of her ear. “You think I want to be this fucking close to you?”
“Given the size of that thing, I’d say you’re pretty fucking stoked to be this close to me. I cannot believe you’re hard at a time like this.” The disdain dripping from her tone grates on my already frayed nerves, and I have to physically stop myself from wrapping my hand around her throat and squeezing until she begs me to stop. Of course I’m fucking hard with your perky little ass pressed against my dick, you fucking siren. That’s what I want to say, but I clench my jaw shut.
She shifts from one foot to the other, rubbing her ass against me. Her breathing grows heavier. I tip my head back and stifle the groan that wants to roll out of me. She’s gotta be doing this on fucking purpose.
I grab hold of her upper arms. “Stop fucking moving.”
“I can’t. I hate enclosed spaces.” I don’t miss the slight tremor in her voice now, and I recall what she told us yesterday at her mom’s graveside. Of course she fucking hates small spaces. Her breaths come in heavy pants, and if she doesn’t calm down soon, someone will hear us.
I slide my hand onto her chest just beneath her collarbone and pull her back against me, and when she offers no resistance I take slow and deliberate breaths. “Breathe with me.”
She nods, her breaths stuttering as she tries to match my steady pace. I splay my fingers wide, settling them over her hammering heart, and dust my lips over her ear. “You’re okay. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”
“Promise?” she asks quietly, and I hear the voice of an eleven-year-old Keres, still locked in that trunk.
“I promise, sweetheart.”
She tips her head back and rests it on my shoulder. Her chest stops heaving and her breathing slows until it matches the cadence of mine. Her heartbeat is a steady thump against my hand. I slide my free arm around her waist and press my lips against the top of her head, and we stay like this, listening to the kids run around the house, probably packing their things for their mom’s house. I breathe in her scent, letting her fill my senses. Despite the number of times I’ve had a part of my body inside hers, this has to be the most intimate thing we’ve ever done. As she relaxes in my arms, I feel a section of her soul split open and allow a piece of mine inside.
Chapter
Forty-Two
KERES
After what feels like an eternity, the general carnage and noise that come with having three teenagers in the same house stop altogether, and the distant sound of a door closing signals that they’ve left. I breathe out a heavy sigh, but Ace and I stay here like this for a few more seconds. Despite his rigid length digging into my back, our embrace doesn’t feel motivated by sex or anything remotely like it.
Ace clears his throat, and the spell is broken all too soon. We untangle ourselves and he pushes open the closet door as Romeo shuffles out from underneath the bed.
“Kids are gone,” Romeo says, raising his brows as he stands and brushes dust from his jeans. He takes out his cell phone. “Theo is back in his office and looks like the other two are headed back to the kitchen.”
Ace nods, his jaw set and his eyes fixed on the door. “Back to the plan then. Let’s go.” There’s no trace of the tenderness that was in his voice a few moments ago. Perhaps I imagined it. Or most likely he was simply stopping me from having a panic attack so I didn’t draw unnecessary attention and screw up the plan. Ace grips the door handle while a pair of voices drift away from us.
Romeo takes the syringe full of sedative from his pocket and nods at Ace, signaling he’s ready to go. I reach for the knife in my pocket and take a deep breath. This is it.
The door opens quietly and we step out into the hallway. “You remember where his office is, Trouble?” Ace asks in a whisper. I nod my response. Having memorized the layout of the entire house, I’m pretty sure I could find my way with my eyes closed. We creep down the hallway until it splits in two—one direction leads to the kitchen and the other to the west wing where Theo’s office is situated.
I turn to head in that direction, but Ace’s hand on my arm stops me in my tracks. “We’ll be there in a few minutes, but anything goes down, just holler. One of us will come straight for you, okay?”
“I can take care of myself,” I say, but even I can hear the crack in my voice. Being so close to the end is making me feel untethered and antsy. Gate fever is what Father Mike used to call it. He used to teach history class last period on Friday afternoons at our high school, and all the kids would be fidgeting and chatting as they watched the clock, ready for school to let out for the weekend. He would roll his eyes and tell us to rein in the gate fever. I guess this is kind of like that, although instead of the excitement of school finishing, there’s only the fear of what lies beyond this for me. I have no idea what will happen when Theo is gone. When I finally have my vengeance and have nothing left to live for.
I swallow the lump in my throat and force out the words. “I’ll see you both soon.” Without another look at their faces, I make my way down the hallway until I reach Theo’s office.
His door is closed, but I can hear the tapping of fingers on a keyboard when I press my ear against it. I wonder if he senses his impending doom. If he has that strange tingle at the base of his spine right before something terrible happens.
I turn the handle as quietly as I can and push open the surprisingly heavy door. It closes behind me with a soft click, but he’s too focused on his computer to hear me. The large windowless room is mostly empty but for a massive stainless-steel refrigerator and the huge steel desk with three computer monitors. I imagine Theo thinks he looks like some antihero from a cheesy action movie. My heart rate kicks up and goosebumps break out all over my body. Shit. What kind of home office has no windows, and why does he have a refrigerator in here?
This isn’t an office. Double shit! I rush forward, knife in hand ready to strike, but he must see my reflection on the screens because he spins his chair around and reaches behind him. After a quick fumble with something beneath his desk, he lunges forward and barrels into me. He’s at least six-two and must have over a hundred pounds on me. We crash to the ground, but even over his grunting and cursing, I hear the mechanical clicking of bolts and locks shifting into place and the heavy steel door sliding out of the panel in the wall and sealing us in here.
This wasn’t on the copy of the house plans we reviewed. There was absolutely no indication at all that this was a panic room. I’m such an idiot. Of course a man with as many enemies as this one would have a panic room, and he wouldn’t be stupid enough to include it on the blueprints.
We’re trapped together, and nobody is getting in here unless one of us lets them in.
He grabs my wrists and pins them above my head, squeezing hard. Searing pain shoots up my right forearm, and I press my lips together to stifle a scream. He bangs the same arm against the solid concrete floor and my knife clatters from my grip.
He pins me to the ground, one knee digging into my ribs while he keeps me in place with the weight of his giant frame. “Who fucking sent you?”
