Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Hudson

I make up a tray of food when she doesn't come down.

She was still asleep when I took her bags up a couple of hours ago, but I'm surprised she hasn't woken up and come down for something to eat. She hasn't had anything all day, and if she's cramping, that's going to make her feel even worse, especially if she needs to take some painkillers.

I add a bottle of water to the tray and move to pick it up when I hear the front door open and close with a loud thud. Leaving the tray where it is, I walk out of the kitchen and down the hallway to find Abbot kicking off his sneakers and tossing his keys on the hallway table.

"Where have you been?"

He jumps at the sound of my voice and looks up at me with an uneasy look on his face that sets my teeth on edge.

"None of your fucking business. I'm seventeen, not seven."

"You wanna rein in the attitude? I only asked the fucking question because your girlfriend asked me, and I didn't know what to tell her."

I'm trying to cut him some slack here. His mom's dead, for Christ's sake, and I remember what a shithead I was at his age. But I've killed for less.

He crosses his arms over his chest—a defensive move if ever I saw one. Despite everything, he's still just a kid.

"She has my phone number. She knows how to reach me, and she didn't, so I'd say she wasn't that worried."

I cock my head. "Was she supposed to worry?"

Again, there's something off in his tone. I don't know him well enough to get a read on it, though.

"No. She has no reason to worry." He swallows. I narrow my eyes on him.

"You didn't think to take her with you? She doesn't know me, Abbot, and you just left her here." Which is fine with me, but it pisses me off that he just assumed she'd be okay with it.

"She knows where I usually hang out, and it's not her thing. Starling's a homebody. She likes to watch movies and read. She hates crowds, and the idea of a day out for her is going to the library."

I blink, unsure how to process all that. On one hand, I get it. If it's not her thing, dragging her along seems almost cruel, especially after how she reacted to the crowd at the wake.

Still… "She woke up to you being gone. You left her alone in the house while she slept, with a man she doesn't know."

He clenches his jaw, but I see my words hit home. He knows her ten times better than I do. If I know that's a lot for her to deal with, then so does he.

"I'll go check on her,"

"Don't bother. She's asleep in her room. She got her period and was feeling pretty shitty."

He grimaces before looking at his watch. "I came back to see if she wanted to grab something to eat, but if she's asleep, I'll just hit the drive-through." He shoves his feet back into his sneakers.

"I have food here."

"I don't want to cook. I just want to grab something quick before I crash." He pulls the door open and leaves, closing it behind him with more force than necessary.

I watch out the window as he pulls away and heads down the driveway before I walk back into the kitchen and grab the tray. I feel myself scowling, but I'm not sure why I'm so pissed at Abbot. He hasn't done anything other than be a seventeen-year-old asshole. Attitude aside, he's home well before midnight. I didn't smell any alcohol on him, and—I pause halfway up the steps as I realize what I did smell on him.

Sex.

He's been out fucking someone else.

I'm torn between wanting to knock the punk out and laughing at how easy he's making this for me. I resume walking, thinking about how I can use this to my advantage.

If I straight-up tell her I think Abbot's fucking around on her, she might not believe, or worse she might, then try to leave. No, for now, I'll keep that information to myself. It might be a useful card to play later down the line, but I have other moves to make first, ones that will have a far higher chance of success.

I knock on her door, and when I don't get a response, I push it open. The light from the hallway illuminates the room just enough for me to see that she hasn't moved. I set the tray on the bottom of the bed before sitting down beside her. I gently brush her hair away from her face and take her in.

I feel my dick stir as she murmurs something in her sleep and leans into me. I trail my thumb across her bottom lip, imagining the feel of it sliding along the underside of my dick as I fuck her mouth.

Her lips part, so I slide my thumb inside a little, unable to resist. I feel her tongue touch the pad of my thumb before her lips close around it, and she sucks. I go from semi to hard in a millisecond.

I pull my thumb free. If I don't, I'll shove something else in her mouth. I want her to be an active participant when I'm fucking her, whether that be her mouth or her pussy, even if she's only playing along because I've left her no other option. If I take her now, I'll fuck things up before I've even started.

Instead, I shake her a little, sitting back when she stirs and her eyes open. She stares at me for a moment, confused, before recognition floods her expression.

"Hudson?" She tugs the comforter up like a protective shield.

I smirk, wondering if she's aware of what she's doing.

"You slept through dinner, so I brought you something to eat and some painkillers just in case. Did you need a heating pad or anything? I can get someone to pick one up for you and drop it off."

She frowns before a lightbulb goes off. "No, that's okay. I don't feel too bad right now."

I turn and grab the tray and wait for her to sit up before placing it on her lap. She stares down at the assortment with shock on her face. There's a BLT sandwich and some chips, a bowl of strawberries, and a bottle of water, as well as a bar of chocolate and a can of Coke in case she needs a sugar hit. There are also a couple bottles of painkillers for her to choose from.

"You made this for me?"

"Well, I don't have a chef, so yeah," I joke, but she doesn't smile.

She looks up at me, still a little shocked, and offers me the first real smile I've seen from her. "Thank you," she whispers, making me wonder how much of a jackass my son is if this is surprising to her. Even he can manage to make her a sandwich, surely.

"It's no problem. I'm glad you're feeling better. You feel up to watching a movie or something?" I ask, even though it's a fucking stupid idea.

"Is Abbot back?"

"He came back and left again when he found out you were asleep."

She nods like she expected that. "I think I'm just going to eat this and go back to sleep, if that's okay. I didn't realize just how much the last few days have affected me."

I reach over and give her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Get some rest then. But make sure you eat all of that first. The last thing you need is to get sick too."

She nods and picks up a strawberry, taking a bite before moaning in delight. Shit, I need to get out of here before I throw the plan out the window and fuck her blind.

"Come find me if you need me." I stand and head for the door, stopping with my hand on the knob when she calls my name.

"Hudson?"

"Yeah?" I turn and look back at her.

"Thank you for looking after me," she says softly.

"It was and always will be my pleasure, Birdie."

I leave, closing the door behind me, and I head up to my room. I strip out of my clothes and lie on my bed naked with my phone and log into the cameras so I can watch her.

She eats the strawberries and the sandwich, but leaves the chips. I watch her drink the Coke and eat half of the chocolate bar before she sets the tray aside. She doesn't take any of the painkillers, which I take as a good sign. Sometimes sleep really is the cure for everything.

When she climbs off the bed, she stretches, her top rising to show that band of skin around her belly that I want to trace with my tongue. I slide my hand down to my cock just as my phone rings. Kenzo's face appears on my screen. I don't know who the fuck attached a photo to his number, but it makes my cock deflate in a heartbeat.

With a sigh, I answer. "This better be good."

"Define good?"

"Kenzo…" I warn, closing my eyes.

"Atlas asked me to look into your stripper."

"She isn't my anything," I snap, sitting on the edge of the bed.

He carries on like he didn't hear me. "She quit working at the club months ago."

"Atlas mentioned she'd left."

"I'm surprised he noticed."

"If she wasn't working, then what the fuck was she doing there in the first place?"

"That's the million-dollar question, but maybe she didn't go there of her own free will."

"Okay, I'll bite. You found something on the security footage?" I guess.

"No, that's just it. There was fuck-all. Not one shot of Emma arriving at all."

I rub my hand over my jaw. "I know most of the girls know where the cameras are for safety purposes. If they can see them, they can signal for help. But there's no way she dodged all of them."

"Exactly."

"Exactly what? What does that mean?"

"It means that she didn't walk in on her own two feet. When the cleanup crew arrived, Ed looked at the scene and said there wasn't enough blood for her to have been carved up there."

"So some motherfucker just walked into the club with a dead body slung over their shoulder?"

"Basically, yeah. We found a couple of possibilities, but I need you to come to the club to check them out and see if there's anything about them that seems familiar."

"I'm supposed to be off for a few weeks."

"Yeah, well, suck it up, buttercup. Dead stripper trumps whatever it is you do on your time off."

He hangs up, making me growl as I get dressed and shove my cell phone into my back pocket. Heading downstairs, I consider letting Starling know I'm heading out, but in the end decide against it in case she's fallen back to sleep. I grab my keys and jacket and walk out to the car, starting her up and speeding out of the driveway, my aggression pushing me to drive faster than I usually would.

By the time I make it to the club, I'm ready to rip someone's head off. I pass through security with a grunt and find Kenzo up in Atlas's office.

"Don't you have your own office?"

"I like it here better."

"You sound like a teenager who doesn't want to leave home," I say, sitting down in one of the chairs.

"So now you're an expert on teenagers?"

I glare at him, but he just smiles.

"Okay, let's get this shit over with. I want to be at home inside my woman."

"You're the one who wanted me to come over now when it could have waited until tomorrow. Fuck knows she won't be any less dead."

"Shut the fuck up and look at what we have, then you can go back to your babysitting duties."

My fingers twitch with the urge to pull my gun and shoot the asshole. Kenzo tends to have that effect on people.

He hands me a tablet before tapping something into the laptop. The tablet lights up with screenshots of five possible suspects. I examine each of them closely, but none of them look familiar, not that I can see all their faces.

"Why these guys?"

"Three of them are delivery drivers that brought large crates of alcohol in. One is part of the cleaning crew hired to replace Trix, and the other is a man, judging from his size and build, carrying a big-ass bag."

"Who the fuck brings a gym bag to a strip club?"

"Yeah, I wondered the same thing. I don't know who the guy is. He has his hood pulled up over his head, covering his face, but a bag like that would make him memorable. Hopefully, someone downstairs remembers him and can give us more."

I look at the bag. Although it's not the best shot, it does look heavy. Still…

"You really think there's a body folded up in there? He doesn't even look like he's straining."

He shrugs. "Stranger things have happened. I'm not ruling anyone out until I'm one hundred percent sure they're in the clear."

I lean back and blow out an exasperated breath. "You said you were looking into her. You know what she's been doing for the last five months?"

"A couple of girls said they heard a rumor that she was turning tricks over near the bridge on Industrial."

"Stripping is one thing, but hooking is something else altogether. Atlas pays his girls well, so for her to go from here to there, I have to assume drugs were involved."

"You notice any track marks on her body?"

I forgot he hadn't seen her. I think back and shake my head. "No, but that doesn't mean much. Not all druggies use a needle. And those that do, some hide it, shooting up in places like between their toes. Atlas might have seen something I didn't. Did the cleaners get rid of her, or is she on ice?"

"On ice. We're not sure what we're dealing with right now, and if another body turns up, we might need her."

"I'm still hoping this is an isolated incident."

"Whether it is or isn't, it seems Atlas was the target. Nobody brings a dead body to a strip club unless it's fucking personal."

"And trying to figure out who Atlas pissed off will be like trying to find a needle in a haystack."

"You're telling me," he grumbles.

"What's your gut saying?"

He looks me in the eye and sighs. "It's not over. The question is, will we get more of the same, or will it escalate?"

"Fuck. That's what I was thinking. I was just hoping you'd disagree."

"I guess the next question is, should we expect another dead stripper, or will the next body be closer to home?"