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The girl is trouble with a capital T, and even more so now that she got the ludicrous idea that she could help me with my plans into that thick head of hers.
Shit.
Out of all the stuff in my house, why did she have to find that particular folder?
I blame either my rotten luck or my bad fucking karma for being responsible for that fiasco. Thankfully, I could tell that Zoey didn’t have the foggiest recollection of the group home mentioned in the files. I would be able to tell if she had. It was just another job for her. In her mind, she probably thinks this is a contract, one I will be paid handsomely for performing. Little does she know, I’m doing this pro bono, since I’m the interested party wanting to see all those monsters lying in a ditch somewhere. That was my stipulation to the agency when they recruited me. I’d happily kill whatever motherfucker they told me to, and in exchange, I would use their resources to seek vengeance for what that house did to me. The minute the agency gave me the green light and ensured that they would turn a blind eye to my thirst for revenge, I willingly signed whatever was left of my soul over to them.
My plans were as good as gold until she came back into my life. Now everything is all screwed up.
Feeling uncharacteristically sorry for myself, I turn off the lights and head to my bedroom, officially calling it a night. When I’m walking down the hall, I hear a soft knock on my front door. I turn around and head over to it in a hurry, knowing exactly who I’ll find on my doorstep.
Excitement pounds through me even as I tell myself it’s annoyance.
When I open the door and see her there, something inside me settles. The way Zoey’s mischievous smile splits her face in half has me fisting my hands just so I don’t reach out and grab her, hoist her over my shoulder, and drag her into my bedroom.
“It’s late,” I state evenly, not daring to say what’s really on my mind.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” She wiggles her brows suggestively.
“No,” I retort, my nails now drawing blood from my palms.
“Too bad.” She shrugs. “You look like you need a good fuck to unwind, and as luck would have it, I think I’d be perfect to make that happen.”
I have no doubt about that. If she fucked me the same way she fucked my dagger’s handle, I’d be a lucky man.
“Go home,” I growl, grabbing the door to slam it in her face before I break down and fuck her right here on my doorstep where the world could see.
“Not so fast,” she replies, placing her hands on my door to keep it open. “We need to talk.”
“There’s nothing for us to talk about,” I spit, taking my anger out on her. How dare she just waltz into my life and my house like she owns it?
Like she owns me?
“Oh, but there is,” she coos, running a finger down my torso, making my skin underneath my shirt burn with desire.
“I don’t talk with little girls.”
“You only fuck them with your knife, huh?” she taunts brazenly. The sound of my teeth grinding is so loud that the little devil has the audacity to giggle at me. “Oh, don’t get your panties in a twist, Gray. We have plenty of time for that later. I just came over to give you the good news.”
“Good news?” My forehead crinkles distrustfully. “What kind of good news?”
“The kind where I have an alibi for the next couple of weeks to do whatever I want. My dad thinks I’ll be up at the Hamptons for spring break, which leaves us with exactly two weeks to get the job done. And by job, I mean me infiltrating that group home and bringing down all those fucking sickos who get their rocks off with little kids.”
I push the door back so hard it hits the wall as I take one large step toward her, erasing the gap between us. Her only option is to crane her neck back if she wants to look me in the face.
“You must be hard of hearing. I told you that I don’t need your help,” I growl, showing her all my teeth.
“And I say you do,” she retorts with total conviction, not the least bit afraid, but she should be. If she knew all the sick, twisted things I wanted to do to her, she would run screaming… or would she? “I’m the best chance you have. You want in, and to do that, you need someone on the inside to help you. Who better to do that than a new foster kid in need of a home?”
I grip her chin so forcefully, I’m sure she’ll have my fingerprints permanently carved into her skin by morning.
“No one will believe you’re a kid.”
“Oh? Then why do you keep reminding me that I’m just a little girl every chance you get?” she fires back, eyes twinkling with excitement.
I let go of her chin and take a huge step back.
“It’s not you I’m reminding,” I grumble, running my fingers through my hair in exasperation.
