Ah, fuck, Regan’s inner sanctum. Where it all happened. Years of them together, falling into a rhythm, learning how to share a life, then all that tosses away for one stupid fuck.
I shiver, trying to control myself. I want to tear the place apart, but I’m trying to take a soft touch, in case she decides to come home. Otherwise, I wouldn’t bother pretending.
Not like Kieren isn’t aware we’re on to him.
Or maybe he really is that stupid.
Doesn’t matter. I drift to the bed and pause. I bend down to sniff the pillow on the left and almost moan from pleasure. It’s her side, all right, and it still reeks like her.
I bury my face in the sheets and groan.
Fuck, what is wrong with me? I have to shove myself back, panting hard. I see myself with her, in this bed, wrapped in the blankets, tangling our bodies together, fucking her deep and making her scream as sweat pours down between her tits. I see myself ruining her, breaking her, making her drool and spit and swallow, making her come so hard her ribs crack in half.
Bliss, god damn it, fucking bliss.
Get it together. I step back from the bed, trembling, and count to twenty in my head. One murdered Kieren, two murdered Kieren, three murdered Kieren, up until I’m thinking straight.
Back to work.
I comb the place meticulously. There’s nothing hidden. The drawers still have some of her clothes and I shove a pair of her old underwear in my pocket as a prize. I’ll likely wrap it around my neck and jerk off later. Or I’ll toss it in the garbage if I’msmart. I rifle through Kieren’s side and turn up old condoms, a porno magazine which is hilariously retro, but nothing worthwhile.
The bathroom’s the same.
I pause back in the hallway, thinking hard. If I were that bastard, what would I have done with what I took? But frankly, in this day and age, he probably has it stored digitally in some email address we don’t know about.
Or it’s already with the Baranovs.
I don’t want to leave. I’m tempted to spend the night in here, but who knows when Kieren’s going to come home. Besides, it won’t be good for my mental health, surrounding myself with Regan’s things and breathing in her smell like a fucking addict.
I stroll back out into the hallway, whistling to myself. A neighbor’s unlocking his door nearby and shoots me a puzzled scowl. I wink and wave casually as I leave, down the steps, which sure as fuck beats trying to scale the wall, and out into the night.
The Baranovs are going to be a problem. I suspect Finn and his siblings haven’t wanted to admit the extent to which the Russians are muscling into the City. I love the Whelans, but they’ve been in power for a while now, and they’re not used to war anymore. They’re not soft, but they’re content.
And sometimes contentment is even worse.
I’ll have to take more extreme measures soon if I want to find out how much Kieren took when he decided to stray after some Russian pussy. Once that’s done though—he’ll be fair game.
I wonder if Regan would appreciate his severed head as a gift.
Probably not.
Maybe just a finger?
I’m thinking about dismantling Kieren when I approach my building. I have one hand shoved in my pocket, idly wrapping my fingers around Regan’s panties, when I come to a halt.
I think my eyes are playing tricks on me, because it looks as though the girl herself is sitting in the lobby of my building.
But no, as I get closer, it’s definitely her. She stands and brushes herself off, her back straight and her face carefully composed. A thrill runs into my stomach and I think back to the offer Finn made: this girl could be my wife if I wanted her. All it would take is a single call. Hell, a fucking text would do the trick.
She could be mine, and I want her.
That’s exactly why I have to say no.
“Didn’t expect to see you here.” I tighten my grip on her underwear. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
Her eyes cut sideways like she’s afraid someone might see us together. I like that she’s wearing work clothes: modest sweater, dark slacks, her hair down, her make up done with a soft hand. Very tasteful and professional. It makes my dick hard.
“We need to talk.”
