Page 12 of Bring Him Home


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“He says he has her suitcase that she lost.” David breaks the silence on the line and answers my unspoken question.

“I’ll be down in a minute to get it,” I tell him, ending the call.

“I can get it myself.” She tries to pull her wrist from my hold again. Out of the corner of my eye I see my assistant take a step back as if she’s trying to get out of the path of the rage that is about to come to the surface. Delilah’s reaction is the opposite of my assistant’s. It is like a kitten was holding her wrist.

“Fuck,” I grunt. I bend down and pick her up without any hesitation. I throw her tiny ass over my shoulder and storm back into my condo. There is no way Delilah is going downstairs to meet some strange asshole she doesn’t know. I’m seriously about to lose my shit on so many levels.

“I’ll get the suitcase,” Charlotte shouts as the door closes on its own.

“What are you doing?” Delilah wiggles in my hold. I slap her ass just like she slapped my face, giving her a taste of her own medicine.

“Oh!” She lets out a small scream. She wiggles her pert ass again. She starts to speak again, her voice coming out breathy. I am expecting her to say something rude but her voice comes without any power behind it this time. “I hope that hurt your hand,” is all she manages to get out.

I want to laugh but I’m so pissed I can’t find it in me to do it. I deposit her back onto the sofa and come down over her. The sofa doesn’t seem so big when I am on it with her. Her eyes go round and her breathing picks up when she realizes our position. Her hips thrust up of their own accord, trying to get closer to me. It’s like her body is on autopilot knowing what it wants even if her mind doesn’t.

Her pussy is trying to get as close to me as possible and she doesn’t even realize she’s doing it. Just those little thrusts by her have me wanting to come in my pants. If I wasn’t so fucking pissed, I would give her what her pussy is obviously begging for.

“How did he know where to bring your suitcase?” I ask her. I’m trying to stay focused and I know anger will help me do that. Did she give out her address so easily? “Baby, please tell me it’s the airport dropping it off and not some stranger who claims to have found the suitcase that you think you lost.” I say lost when I really want to say that it was stolen from her.

This is one of the biggest scams in the city. People take advantage of tourists all the time, stealing their things and asking for money to return them. That is the best case scenario: sometimes they set up a meeting with the victim to give them their things back in good faith but then they rob them instead. My breathing is getting uneven thinking about what could have happened to Delilah if I wasn’t home.

She licks those plump lips that are a normal shade again. The puffiness has gone down from our earlier mouth-fucking. “He found it for me,” she lets out in a cheery response. “I guess I just have really good luck,” she adds. She’s trying to convince herself because I’m not buying it and she knows it.

My jaw tightens. “And how did he find you?” I grit out the question. My control is unraveling as the seconds pass. I’ve never had this happen to me. I am always in control. I guess I’ve just never had something to lose that I actually cared about before. Sure, there was money but I’m talking about another human being. I don’t really give a shit about anyone but myself and money I can replace.

“My number is on the tag,” Delilah says like I’m an idiot. I’m not in the least bit shocked by this piece of information she tosses at me. Of course her number was on the tag. “He called saying that he found it.” She glances anywhere but at me. I can see the wheels finally turning in her head. She’s finally starting to put two and two together.

“Finish telling me. How did he know where to take the suitcase?”

Her eyes focus back on mine. I have a feeling what she’s going to say and I know I’m not going to like it. I brace myself for her answer but she just continues to stare at me with those eyes. Those beautiful eyes encased in those thick lashes just stare into mine and my anger begins to cool some.

“I shared my location with him.” She bites her lip after she finally rushes the words out. I let out a string of curses, pushing myself off the sofa and away from her. I give her my back while I get myself under control. I have to clench my hands together so that I don’t punch a hole in the wall. The last thing I want to do is scare the shit out of her, but she needs to be scared. How the fuck did she think it was a good idea to give out her location to a fucking stranger like that?

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