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For money.
That’s all that it was ever about. Money. He wasn’t relieved to hear me on the phone when I called him from the bathroom, crouched down by the sink and keeping my shaky voice low. He was relieved because he knew that his job was about to get much easier. He didn’t have to waste any more time tracking me down, not when I told him exactly where I was.
In that moment, he didn’t hear my voice on the other side of the phone. He didn’t hear his fiancée.
Scared. Alone. Desperate.
He only saw the paycheck that Camilla had promised him hovering within his reach. He was thrilled, not because he was going to get me back, but because he was finally going to get rid of me, once and for all.
He would’ve bought things with that blood money. Maybe one of those expensive cars he always talked about, maybe a house. Maybe he would’ve blown it all on women and booze and gambling in Vegas—I don’t know. The law abiding Prince Charming I thought I knew was just a role he played. The cover for a cold-hearted asshole, a dirty cop.
After all the promises he fed me, after the years we spent together. He threw it all away for money. For a fucking payday.
And the worst part is, Leland made it seem like Brian had a choice. He had a choice to bring me in or kill me. Which did he choose?
He wanted to kill me.
I don’t even want to know how he decided on that. If he wanted to watch me die, or if he just thought it would be easier than handing me over, knowing I was still alive. I don’t know if he wanted to kill me as a fucked-up way of trying to protect me from whatever Camilla planned for me, or if it was a cheap thrill for his sick mind.
When I reach the second floor, I stalk down the hall and slam the bedroom door behind me.
I don’t know what to do. I want to go into a rage—throw things, smash things, pull apart the room with my teeth and nails, but I can’t. I can’t destroy anything else. I can’t let my presence ruin anything else.
Fuck.
A knock at the door makes me jump. My back is pressed to the hard wood, so the sound is loud right next to my ear. Trying to get my breathing back under control, I press away from the solid door and turn to open it.
Zaid and Lucas stand outside, concerned looks on their faces. It reminds me of the way Hale looked when he came to get me earlier, and I hate that I’ve lost my cool. Again. I thought I had put myself back together well enough to face my past, but I’m obviously hanging on by a thread, and they can all see it.
I don’t want sympathy though. I don’t want worry. Not now.
I don’t know what I want exactly, but before the twins can open their mouths to say anything, I pull them both inside and shut the door behind them.
“Are you all right, princess?” Lucas asks, catching my hand in his.
“No.” I shake my head, done trying to cover up the truth. “I’m not. Everything is so fucked up. Everything hurts. I’m sick and tired of hurting. I want to feel good.”
With those words, I press my lips to his, kissing him hard.
I’m so fucked up, my emotions so tightly wound, that my skin feels like it’s sparking with electricity. My whole body feels like it’s vibrating, like it’s going to explode if I don’t release some of this pressure.
Our tongues tangle, and I don’t hold back, attacking him with this kiss. I don’t want to talk things through and pretend everything will be okay. I want both of these men to devour me until I don’t know my own name, until I’ve forgotten everything that’s happened over the past twenty-four hours. Over the past twenty-two years.
“I want you to make me feel something good,” I pant, pulling away just enough to get the words out.
Hands grip my hips, and suddenly I’m being spun around to face Zaid instead. One arm wraps around my waist as he lets out a low, possessive snarl. The sound makes my pulse spike, heat flashing through me. I don’t have to ask him to drag me against his body and kiss me with the same intensity his brother just did.
He’s already doing it.
His free hand roams my body as he kisses me, finding my breast and squeezing hard enough to make me yelp into his mouth. My body tenses at the slight pain, and molten heat pours through me.
I grip the short coppery blond strands of hair at the back of his head, fisting them close to the roots.
“Please, Zaid. I want
you and Lucas. I want you to fuck me until I can’t feel anything else.”
He growls in response, hiking me against his body and letting me feel the way his cock is already stiffening at my words. Lucas is right there with him, his body pressed up against my other side as his hands roam over my curves.
