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“Don’t talk to me about Kaya! I know Kaya!” I punch the words at him, but they are strained and unconvincing. X-rated photos on the computer beside me making them lies glowing on the screen. I have no idea who she is.Do I?What she is capable of. What she truly feels. She’s a fucking liar. “I know Kaya,” I say quietly.
He drops my face. “Why did Charles Young want you to see this? Just some immature rivalry? Something more?”
“I don’t fucking know.”
“I will send men to get her—”
“No!” I shake my head stiff and slow, anger like I have never felt before seizing my muscles. “No. She’s mine!”
“If she is yours, then she is under my protection. I will bring her to you, brothe—”
“No! For once in your goddamn life, Clay.” I growl, charging my voice to blister his ears. “Listen to me!Iam going. I will take two men. That is it!”
Keep it together.
My gaze catches on my new rabbit tattoo, channelling any level of sanity, calm, rational thought, anything to prevent me from snapping every neck when I get there.
Everyone responsible.
Everyone who knew.
When I fucking didn’t!My pulse roars through my brain.Goddamn it, Woman. Why?
My self-control shatters, but I use all my will to hold Clay’s gaze, smooth my expression, and demand he let me take this job.
I continue, infusing my tone with the irrefutability of this demand. “I am going. Imagine this was Fawn. Who would handle that? Who would go get her?”
He lifts his chin, in a kind of acceptance. Though, he doesn’t like it. “No fighting. Use the men for that. They will report back to me. Not to you. If I am not happy, I will be right behind them. Do you understand?”
My molars grind harder. “Yes.”
CHAPTERTHIRTY
kaya
No!
I’m not doing that.
Fuck your peep show.
What was I thinking coming here?
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I rip the balaclava from my head, tossing it across the room towards him, the mask landing at his shoes. “No. I’m not doing that. I’m leaving!”
My back hackles rise when the door clicks behind me, erupting my resolve, a volcano of emotions spilling from me. I’m in danger. I try to grab my phone, but it’s in my jeans.
Tears spit from my eyes under immense pressure, pressure I hadn’t realised I was under. I throw my arms around my middle, hugging myself as slithers of nerves lace me in violent chills.
He’s not alone!
Someone walks in.
But I’m restricted by my jeans, unable to move fast, to turn, to run, while someone with heavy feet advances on me from behind.Oh God.
I drop to pull my knickers up, to protect myself, but I fall forward, spread open for the person behind me, dropping to my knees and then hands. On all fours. Taking my weight, I whimper on the floor as my hard-fought stoicism crumbles into wails of despair. I just want to go home.
