The sun-hater shakes her head. “They’re too scared I’ll scream on her behalf.”
“Are you looking out for her?” I ask, pretending I didn’t hear the hostility in her voice.
Her shake turns into somewhat of a nod. “Yeah. I guess. She’s got that vibe, you know? The one where you can’t help but protect her. She reminds me a lot of my little sister.” Her voice tapers to a whisper before her last sentence.
Her confession is surprising, considering she doesn’t look a day over twenty-one. Claudia would be at least mid-twenties if not close to her thirties, so why the fuck would this emo believe she is younger than her?
The blue-eyed girl shifts her eyes from Claudia to me. “Is that why you’re looking out for her too? Does she remind you of family?”
Her inaccurate assumption makes me smile. It isn’t a happy smirk. It’s one of a man who’s hurt more women than he’s loved. Usually, the only women I pursue are the ones who remind me of my mother, but that isn’t the case with Claudia. She’s my ticket out of this place, a free pass back to the life I had beforehefucked it up. I have no intention of playing her as I did Cleo, so you can be assured that means I won’t be fucking her either.
I watched Cleo for years before Marcus entered the picture. My game plan was long, but the secrecy behind it was addictive. I loved knowing that most of Cleo’s struggles were influenced by me. Her prolonged stint in the hub often referred to as the ‘dungeon’ at Global Ten Media, the constant misplacement of her security ID tag, and the lack of funds in her bank account. That was all me.
I kept my sneaky transfers on the down-low, ensuring no one would discover her wages were thirty percent less than the rest of the staff. It worked for nearly three years. My scheme was only unraveled when Mr. Carson returned to the helm of his ship. He didn’t just snoop. He found a way to increase her wages as well. That altered my game in a way I never thought possible. It made it more challenging, which was both a welcomed and unwanted change.
Although I didn’t need to work at Global Ten Media to fund my campaign for revenge, I did so I’d have access to Cleo twenty-four hours a day. She was furious when she discovered Marcus had been spying on her for months. I wonder how she’d handle learning I had been watching her for years longer. Just the thought of her tears hardens my cock.
Not wanting the emo-lover to get the wrong idea about my extended crotch, I end our conversation. “No. She doesn’t remind me of my family. And I’m not looking out for her either.” Since both replies are honest, they’re delivered that way.
I step away from the goth, only to be stopped three strides later. If I weren’t conscious of the four sets of eyes on me, dying for the chance to intervene, I’d pass on my dislike of being manhandled in a non-verbal way. But since I’m skating on thin ice, I shelve my retaliation and return my eyes to my new best friend.
“For a couple of benzos, I could give you an in with Claudia.” She keeps her tone low, ensuring the guards won’t hear her.
My chest rumbles with silent mocking. “Are you not getting enough brain-fucking medication during yourpleasantstay at Meadow Fields?”
I don’t know why I ask my question. I don’t give a fuck if she pops sedatives until she dies. I’m just stunned by her request. Her eyes are so lucid I’m beginning to wonder if anyone here is taking their meds.
“They’re not for me. They are just—”
I stop her midsentence by slicing my hand through the air. She flinches like all good women do. “I don’t give a fuck who they’re for. I just need to know how many you need.”
Although I’m not interested in developing a relationship with this vampire groupie, some of the best contacts I’ve developed are ones who have come to me. For all I know, she could be holding a swipe key to Claudia’s room in her hand, so the least I can do is play along with her ruse by feigning interest.
The stranger licks her dry lips before murmuring, “I need enough to take down a grown man.”
Her reply piques my suspicion, but not enough for me to act on it. “Alright. I’ve got the funds. I’ll get you what you need.” She stops peering at me like I’m a god when I add on, “But first, you need to give me something in good faith. Prove you’ve got the goods to deliver your side of the deal.”
I expect her to balk at the insinuation in my tone, but she does no such thing. She just hands me a slip of glossy paper like one document is the answer to her prayers.
The manic tick of my jaw increases when my eyes drop to the folded-up magazine article. I am thrust into a spiraling tunnel. It’s a dark and lonely place that immediately derails my train from its track.
When I pin the unnamed emo to the wall by her throat, the guards shout my name in the same manner the bailiff did during my trial. Her airway is cut in an instant, her eyes bulging just as fast. “Who gave you this! Was it the guards? Was it Lee?”
She doesn’t speak. She can’t. I’m clutching her throat so firmly she’s seconds from collapse.
Ignoring the pleasurable sting of her fingernails shredding my hand and the whacks of batons on my back, I assess the article more diligently, seeking clues to its origin.
The more I read, the hotter the blood in my veins become.
Marcus is in multiple photos in a two-page feature. He’s smiling like he has the world at his feet. He somewhat does, considering Cleo is at his side, wearing a white wedding dress and a bright smile.
Her happiness angers me more, and my clutch on the sun-hater’s throat tightens. I’m still suffering the consequences of Cleo’s betrayal, so shouldn’t she still be mourning the death of her unborn child?
The reason for her lack of bereavement comes to light when a pair of bright hazel eyes capture my attention. The little girl in the picture, who would only be a few months old, has the eyes of both her mother and father—Cleo’s dirty chocolate eyes mixed with Marcus’s barren green ones.
They have a child.
A daughter.
