If it were anyone else, I would refuse on principle. I’ve been cooped up for way too damn long. Besides, I barely feel the wound in my stomach, though the skin surrounding it does pull with every step I take, making it hard to walk without support.
But this is Ellie, and I can never resist her. I wouldn’t even know where to begin.
With an elongated sigh, I allow her to place her palm on the small of my back and guide me in the direction of my borrowed room. Energy fires up my spine at her touch in a series of sporadic explosions, fireworks bursting through me.
She hasn’t touched me—or anyone else, for that matter—in a way that wasn’t clinical. For weeks, we’ve all been toeing the line we not only already crossed months before but absolutelydecimated.
I want to pull her into my arms. Hold her. Run my nose down the length of her neck. Tangle my fingers in that gorgeous brown hair. Kiss those plump, swollen lips.
But I don’t.
I can’t.
Not yet.
“I’m going goddamn stir crazy, you know,” I tell her, trying my damnedest not to pout like a petulant toddler.
Her lips twitch slightly, a smile begging to be set free. “Maybe next time you can avoid getting stabbed,” she quips.
I dramatically clutch at my chest. “Wow. Blaming the victim. Real mature.”
“It’s not like we’re doing a lot on our end.” A hint of bitterness seeps into her tone.
I may not be actively involved in the day-to-day operations currently, but I still know what’s going on.
After the guys and Ellie disposed of her buyer, another one immediately took his place. This one was a teacher at the local elementary school. Mania took care of him, and almost immediately, a third buyer popped up. Then a fourth. Then a fifth. Raymond instructed us to stop killing them for the time being. After all, one of these buyers could be nothing but a trap, designed to lure us straight to The Divine One and her minions, though I have a feeling that’s not the case; otherwise Mania would’ve been captured or killed long ago.
The Divine One isn’t stupid. She has to know what we’re doing and why, yet the conniving bitch doesn’t seem to care. A part of me wonders if she’s targeting the ad toward specific POP members, hoping we’ll take them out once they purchase Ellie.
Crazy bitch.
Yet, even suspecting that, I don’t want to stop murdering these fuckers. Ican’t.
It’s driving me fucking insane knowing that some asshole believes he owns Ellie, but there’s nothing that can be done at the moment. Raymond’s right, as much as I hate to admit it. This entire operation is nothing but a Hydra—cut off one head, and two will take its place.
The guys spent the last couple of weeks looking into The Divine One and her underground clubs. We know their locations, but once again, Raymond insists we need to be patient. Gather evidence. Find a way to destroy the entire organization instead of a single building or its leader.
Buthow? Raymond has contacts in the FBI, yes, but what good will they do? Despite an abundance of evidence, nothing has been done yet. No arrests have been made. And for all we know, Raymond is setting us up, compiling extensive evidence of all our crimes to getussent away. I don’t trust the fucker, but he’s our best hope of defeating the Paragons of Prosperity once and for all.
Worry swells behind my ribs.
When will this be over?
Ellie stops in front of the room I claimed as my own—room two hundred and fifty-three, located just down the hall from Ellie and the others.
I don’t immediately enter the room, though. I simply stand there, my hand on the knob, Ellie beside me, her flowery scent permeating the air.
I glance down at her, taking stock of the freckles on her cheeks. The glasses on her nose. The perpetual pout to her lips. The minuscule scar on her jaw just begging to be kissed.
My chest hurtles toward my stomach. I suddenly can’t suck in a full breath.
“Ellie…” I murmur, reaching for her. I want to pull her inside, strip her naked, and ravish her body.
Ellie’s lips part slightly, her eyes growing hooded, and I think she might actually give in. But then her eyes shutter like blinds being drawn closed, and she takes a step away.
“I need to go talk to Raymond,” she tells me, her tone uncharacteristically businesslike.
“El…”
