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“No fucker asked you.”
“Well then, you can have my opinion for free. You’re welcome.”
My teeth grind as I stare at him, my finger ready on the trigger.
“If you’re going to shoot me, could you just get on with it? But—” he quickly adds, “if you do, Cruz and D are going to be after your arse, and I’m pretty sure you need to be breathing so you can grovel at your woman’s feet. Not that a cunt like you deserves any kind of forgiveness.”
Crack.
I might not pull the trigger, but the sound of my pistol colliding with the Reaper prick’s face is pretty fucking satisfying.
Stepping forward, I get right in his face as blood begins to trickle from his cheek.
“Where. The. Fuck. Are. They?”
“I don’t know. Cruz is taking her far, far away from you so she can attempt to get her head straight. Can I suggest that maybe you do the same?”
A low growl rumbles in my throat at his attempt to what… parent me?
“Get fucked. I don’t want advice from a fucking dickhead biker.”
“You might not want it, kid. But you’re fucking getting it. Emmie is a one-in-a-million kind of girl. The kind that doesn’t deserve a dickhead like you. But for whatever reason, you’ve got yourself under her skin.” His words make something deep in my chest swell.
I’m under her skin. That’s a good thing, right?
“I’m not going to sugar-coat it, you fucked up here. Bad. But equally, your father and our prez fucked up worse. I don’t want to believe that you had any good intentions when it comes to Emmie, but I think I do. I can see it in your eyes.” My jaw tics as I glare at him, but I don’t stop him. Something tells me that I need to hear this as much as he needs to say it. Not that I’d ever admit that.
“What are you getting at, exactly?” I hiss, needing more.
“You both need some time, some space. Let her figure all this shit out and how she really feels. You need to do the same as well. Then, if you still want her—and by want her, I don’t mean locked up in your castle—you need to figure out a way to tell her.”
My lips part to ask the question that’s on the tip of my tongue. And if she doesn’t want me? But I swallow it down, refusing to look vulnerable to this arsehole.
In the end, I keep my mask in place and spit out my reply. “We’ll see. Maybe locked up in my lair is exactly where she belongs.”
His eyes narrow, but he doesn’t respond, and I fear it’s because he can see straight through my bullshit.
“Now, if you’re not going to shoot me, get the fuck out of my flat and go sort your life out. You’re a mess, Cirillo.”
I hold his glare for a few seconds before taking a step back.
I don’t speak until I’m at his front door.
“I will find her,” I warn. “She’s mine.”
“She’s only yours if she wants to be. She’d sooner kill you than belong to you by force.”
A laugh rumbles in my chest as I walk away, because he’s right.
I’m actually surprised she hasn’t already found a way to do it.
She likes your cock too much. That’s why.
* * *
After I left the building where Emmie’s tracker had been abandoned, I climbed back into my car and just took off.
I didn’t want to go home when I knew she wasn’t going to be there.
