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My breath is shallow.
It’s not her.
My fists tremble.
It’s not her.
My heart is on fire.
It’s not her.
My brain—my broken brain—refuses to accept what I’m seeing, because it’s not her, not her perfect sloped tits, not her juicy pussy with trim lips that hide all the lush pink inner folds, not the chipped teal varnish on her toenails, not her caramel hair peeking out from beneath the balac—
Not her.
A hand snaps me from my focus. I grab the wrist, twisting, and standing, ready to throw a fist, when I see Clay’s face, still and willing to let me jab my raised knuckles into his jaw. His smooth control doesn’t waver as he studies me. I try to shake the pain from my eyes, feeling tears overcome me.
It's her.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
“She is an impulsive girl,” he mentions smoothly, his unaffected tone attempting to calm my feral breaths. “She lit that fire months ago as part of a bribe to keep her father from serving prison time. She does things without thinking.” He nods to the screen, the bio and details, and a message from the user: ManXY. Slip is in the system. “Can we get details on the buyer, Slip? Is he a District resident?”
Buyer.
I clench my teeth so hard I taste blood.
Slip muses. “No way to track the wallet, Boss. That’s the point of cryptocurrency. Near impossible. But if he logs on while I am, then I might be able to find his code and get into his computer that way.”
I thrust a shaky finger at Slip; if it were a knife, it would be in his eye. “Don’t fucking look at her.”
“Understood,” Slip states.
“Do what you have to do, Slip.” Clay turns to me while I boil from the inside out. Only half in the present. Half lost down the pit of images of Kaya, vulnerable and alone, in a hotel room while some dickhead tries to touch her. Clay speaks, but I barely hear him. “Why would she need a million dollars, Xander?”
Her words float into my head:“I’m a feminist who doesn’t believe in the value you put on my own body.”
A million dollars.
That’s the value you put on it.
“Fuck.” I can’t think straight, my heart aches, my hands convulse, and my mind is in a haze of violence, revenge, anything brutal enough to make my reality match the pain in my chest. The crust of sanity breaks around me as I read the hotel name, date, time,fuck!Kill them. I’ll kill him.
Time. How much time do we have?I stare at my watch, my hands quaking so hard the display is a blur. My heart is a fireball in my chest, blazing to burn everything inside me.
All my love.
All my will.
All of her and me.
Rabbits…
Clay grabs my face, so very Sicilian in his mannerisms, holding my cheeks to reach me and control. “Think. Rationally. Why would she do this, Xander?”
“Her dad,” I blurt out, imagining myself beating her useless father to a bloody pulp. “She a fucking daddy’s girl.”
“Yes.” He nods. “And she’s prideful. Desperate to help her father. So—"
