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I fling my hands up and step back. “Well, it’s not as if we can break into Town Hall and scope out Booker’s office, is it? If you want to nail Booker, we’ve got to get Marcus to spill his guts. He does all the donkey work. I bet it won’t be too difficult to get him to talk. He looks like the type to brag.”
This gives Jason something to think about. But the pregnant silence is broken when Jason’s phone rings. He’s quick to answer it.
“Dan, is everything okay?” He pauses to listen, his eyes widening with shock. “What? How do you know that?” His terrified eyes dart to me, and I know in my gut that something is wrong. “I’m on my way.”
“What’s going on?” I ask.
Jason shoves his arms through his leather jacket and puts away his phone. “Dan went home and found the front door had been kicked in. My mom is gone, but her car, purse, and phone are still there. Someone has taken her. It must have literally happened right before he got home because one of the neighbors heard screaming and saw a truck and several bikes speeding away. They were just about to call the cops when Dan arrived. It seems like Marcus doesn’t trust Booker either. He’s a loose cannon. He must get that from our sociopath father. I’ve got to find him and stop him before it’s too late.”
“Okay, so, where’s their hideout?” I shrug.
Jason scrubs a hand over his face, frustratedly. “I don’t know. It could be anywhere.”
“It’s a good thing you have me as bait then. Marcus is going to come for me, and you’re going to let him. I’ll do my best to gain his trust, then you can track his ass back to his hideout,” I say, putting it out there for him to consider.
A dark shadow crosses Jason’s face, and he moves closer to stroke my face. “Okay. This one time, do what you gotta do, and we’ll draw a line in the sand and forget about it. If he hurts you, I’ll kill him.”
He’s just given me the green light to use my pussy as a decoy, which for any man is a hard pill to swallow.
“Marcus is the target. I’m yours,” I remind him. “Only yours. Forever and always.”
ChapterTwelve
After bringing Bodie up to speed with the plan, I take a cab home. We thought it would be more believable if I stayed angry about Bodie and Jason’s betrayal. I mean, I’m not just gonna let it slide. Of course, I’m angry, and rightly so. But I can appreciate why they did it. The cab driver drops me at the edge of my drive, and after paying him the fare, I fish my smashed phone and keys from my purse and practically run to the front door. This is a nice neighborhood. It’s quiet throughout the day and night. Nothing remotely interesting happens here. If I scream, I can guarantee my neighbors will hear it. They are so nosey; they would come out to investigate. Hopefully, I won’t need their help because the Hawks stashed a hidden camera inside the lining of my purse so they could see and hear everything I could. Hustle didn’t make a clean job of it. He’s no seamstress, and it’s not exactly my best purse. It wasn’t expensive. Like everything I own, it’s a little rough around the edges. No one will suspect it’s been tampered with, which is good, I guess. It means a dumb fuck like Marcus won’t suspect anything. Even if he rummages through it and tips the contents out, he won’t find it. I pretend I’m on a call to my mom, complaining about Jason being the biggest asshole on the face of the planet, telling no one whatsoever that I never want to ever lay eyes on Jason again. If Marcus is skulking around in the shadows, it’ll pique his interest. He can’t use me as a target if he thinks Jason and I have severed ties.
“The bastard was just using me as a smokescreen,” I mutter, opening the door and sparing a wary glance around. “Yeah, I’ll pack my things and leave this shithole for dust.” I continue the fake conversation after I close the door on the off chance someone is listening. “Okay, I’ll buy a train ticket and call you as soon as I get there. I love you. Bye.”
“Going somewhere?” A deep rasp comes from the open sitting room doorway.
I recognize it immediately and stumble against the wall with fright. “Holy shit. How did you get in here?”
Marcus flicks on the light switch, flooding the room with light that spills out into the hall. He must have come straight here to wait for me after sending his goons to go after Jason’s mom, Liv.
Marcus casually leans against the doorframe, a cocky smirk scrawled halfway across his face. “I used the key beneath the doormat. Not bad for a crack whore,” he mentions mockingly, his dark eyes fixated on me like a predator stalking his prey.
“I’m not on crack. And I don’t appreciate being called a whore,” I say, offended by his remark.
“You’re fucking Havoc though,” he replies crassly. “That tells me you don’t have any standards.”
He isn’t handsome like Jason, but there’s something dangerously sexy about his rugged looks that even I can’t deny. Not that it’s enough to turn my head to the dark side. But still. I’m only human. Marcus looks like the type of guy who could bend a woman across the kitchen table and make her forget her name. Jason may not like to hear it, but he and his half-brother are the same in that respect. I should be grateful I’m not dead already. Marcus isn’t pointing a gun at me, but I can imagine he has one tucked inside the waistband of his jeans. I can see the way he brazenly checks me out, his eyes lingering too long on my heaving chest. Bastard or not, he’s still a man.
“Yeah, and that’s ten seconds of my life that I’m never getting back. That fucker used me, and I used him,” I retaliate, making Marcus raise his brows with interest. “I just wanted to find out what happened to my brother, but I guess the joke was on me because they’re all a bunch of liars. You should have aimed a little higher and done us both a favor.” It feels wrong to say all this about the man I love, but it’s necessary to make my story believable. I know I have a vicious tongue and can say all sorts of hurtful things if I want to.
Marcus scrubs a hand over his face as he processes that. And judging by the look on his face, he’s stumped by my revelation. This has thrown a spanner in the works. If I’m nothing to Jason, then I’m worthless to Marcus. Kiera – one. Marcus – a big fat zero.
“Oh, man. Who would have thought Havoc was a two-pump chump?” Marcus mutters, mulling that over. “I can’t believe we’re from the same gene pool.”
I inwardly cringe at the thought of Jason sitting on the clubhouse couch between his snickering biker buddies, seething at me for trashing his performance. He’ll punish me severely for this. I just know he will.
“Is that all you took from that?” I roll my eyes and bravely walk past him on my way to the kitchen.
Marcus doesn’t grab me, but he’s right behind me as I turn around. “Well, this changes things,” he gruffs ominously. “I came here to leave a message to my entitled prick of a brother, which all seems pretty pointless now.” I side-eye the knife rack and contemplate whether I could snatch the carving knife before he does. “But now you’ve seen me. I can’t exactly let you go running to the cops.”
I hold his gaze. “The same cops who covered up my brother’s so-called death. Yeah, right.”
Marcus’s throat bobs as he swallows. “Still . . . you’re a loose end.”
I set my purse down and tilt the angle of the camera away, not wanting anyone to see what I do next. “You know Jason claimed me, don’t you?”
