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“And how did you get in without breaking the locks?” Brents asks this time.
“We were at the club that night, took her key from her dressing room and made a copy while she performed. Richard was in place by the time she left and I followed her home to make sure she got there.” Brad says it so matter-of-factly, like it wasn’t the most traumatic experience of my life. Well, I’ll be making sure the changing room door is locked when no one’s in it and I will no longer be walking anywhere alone at night.
Lance nods and looks back to Brad, who just shrugs. “Thank you,” Lance says as though he’d been passed a pen, not answers from a tortured gangster. Without further ado, he takes a gun out of the waistband of his trousers and shoots both Brad and Richard right between the eyes. Jase howls and cries and I bury my face in Hayden’s chest. He holds me tight, stroking my hair with one hand and my back with the other.
“You did good baby, it’s over.”
47
LANCE
“Y
ou’ll be there tonight?” Elle asks me on the phone.
“Yes, sweetheart. I’ll be there, just have some business to deal with first.”
“What kind of business?” Her tone is suspicious. It’s been three days since Elle saw me murder two men in cold blood and although the first day she was quiet and unusually introverted, she recovered quickly. She spent last night in my bed, loving me well, and this morning she let Brent steal her away from me like some kind of caveman. She giggled as he threw her over his shoulder, telling me that she hasn’t been completely scarred by the scene at the warehouse. I was pretty pissed at Brent yanking her from my bed this morning until I realised he was taking her for a training session with his cousin Ruby and not back to his own room.
“Just business,” I smirk to myself, knowing full well I am just piquing her interest. She has been particularly interested in anything work related over the last twenty-four hours.
“Boo, you’re no fun.” I chuckle at her banter. “Well, I’ll see you later, Lancelot. You can buy me a drink once I’ve finished my set.”
“It’s a date, sweetheart.”
“I love you, Lance.”
“I love you too, Elle.” Fuck my heart is so full. “I’ll see you later.”
I disconnect the call just as I pull my car up to ostentatious wrought iron gates with an elaborate ‘MM’ monogram. I press the intercom button on the panel outside my window and a gruff masculine voice sounds.
“Can I help you?”
“Lance Preston for Bryon Maxwell.” I look into the camera with my coldest glare.
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No, but he’ll see me.”
“One moment, please.”
There is a minute of silence before the buzzer sounds and the gates slowly whirr open. I shouldn’t be here really. After yesterday’s revelation about my father’s involvement in Elle’s attack, I should be storming his castle and taking the fucker down. But my head is fried and I honestly can’t think about it right now. Elle is safe as long as one of us is with her at all times so until I can figure out how I deal with this properly, we do nothing, I drive up the long road, curving through wooded grounds until I reach a circular driveway with a large marble fountain at its centre. There is space to park in front of the four double garages to the side without blocking the drive, but I obnoxiously park right in front of the house. Roman columns frame an arched double door. It opens as I sprint up the steps and the Maxwell’s head of security smirks at me.
“Mr Preston.”
“Peter.”
“This is a surprise, Mr Maxwell wasn’t expecting you.” He leads me through the door and through a huge foyer.
“I’m sure he wasn’t.” I don’t share his humour. I let my anger fester so I can use it on the right person.
“Is Miss Maxwell okay?” He asks with much more seriousness.
“As well as can be with parents who don’t give a shit,” I sneer.
Peter grabs my arm with a firm grip, stopping my march through the house. I look at where he touches me but he doesn’t let go. “I know why you’re here.” I just glare at him. “I was there when they spoke to Eleanor last. They handled an unexpected situation poorly. They haven’t always been the easiest to live with, and they haven’t seen eye to eye with her for years. But you should know that theydolove her. In their own, cold, and distant way, they do love her.”
“Ilove her,welove her. Theyhurther,” I snarl.
