Chapter 27

Chapter Twenty-Seven

THERON

Emmie walks into the room just as I’m finishing putting up the last camera. I’ve set my cameras up, and they are ready to be watched. The other cameras are also ready to go, and I’m sure Asher and his men will be happy with our work. I’ll be happy once they give me something, anything, to place Ravet here.

I want to ruin the whole damn group of them, Every single one of them. I want them gone—forever. Emmie stands in front of the doorway before I can leave the building. She places her hand on the center of my chest, and I want nothing more than to just walk away from her.

But I don’t.

I’m so fucking focused on what is going to happen, where Ravet is, what they’re doing, and when they’re doing it that I can’t bring myself to tell her to kick rocks the way I want to. Instead, I walk straight up to her, wrap my fingers around the side of her throat, and inwardly wince as I squeeze her there.

“Come back to my place, baby,” she whispers.

Emmie is trying to be sexy, and it’s taking a lot to make it effective. In fact, it’s less than effective. I want nothing to do with this bitch in general. I play the game, though, and hopefully, this shit is going to be done soon.

Releasing her throat, I reach down and lace my fingers with hers. “Let’s get out of here,” I murmur.

“Do you have all of this handled?” she asks, her eyes searching mine.

I know she’s asking me in her sweet tone, but I also know she is demanding an answer. I’m going to give her what I can, but it’s not everything.

Because fuck her.

“It’s handled,” I state.

Taking her hand in mine, I tug her behind me. When we walk out of the Willow Club, I can’t help but let out a heavy sigh of relief. I haven’t told anyone, but there is an oppressive feeling in that building that makes it hard to fucking breathe.

“Take me home and fuck me,” she whispers. “Or maybe I’ll fuck you with my mouth. It’s been too long since you’ve been inside of me.”

I think about fucking her, and I swear to fuck, my cock shrivels. Just thinking about being inside of her makes me want to run the fuck away. I don’t know how I’m going to do this shit. I fucking hate this bitch with everything inside of me. But I fucking rally. Taking her hand in mine, I guide her out the door.

“Do you love her?” Emmie asks, turning to face me as soon as we reach the sidewalk.

I play dumb. “Love who?” I ask.

She tilts her head to the side, her gaze searching mine as she waits for me to speak. When I don’t say anything, she decides to be a bit more specific. “Lucille,” she clarifies. “Do you love her?”

I could tell her the fucking truth of it all, but I decide against it. I’m using her just like she’s using me. I figure right now, this is mutually beneficial. It won’t be once I have what I want because I will scrape her ass off as soon as humanly possible.

I can’t wait to be done with her. This shit is obviously not for me. Nothing about Emmie makes me want her. It’s a dick move, but I know she is using me, too. She wants me to do all this shit for free and not tell the police what the fuck they’re doing here.

She doesn’t realize that I could give a fuck about whatever illegal shit they’re up to. They could be doing almost anything, and I would ignore it. Drugs, sex, whatever. But the moment I see anything with kids, I’m going to tear this whole fucking place to shreds.

And nobody is going to survive my wrath. They are all going to fucking pay for their part in this shit.

Every single one of them.

“It’s not really your concern if I do or don’t,” I state.

Her eyes widen, then she narrows them on me. I watch as Emmie takes a step backward, then she moves so that she’s pressing her tits against mine. It’s deliberate, but I let her do it because it’s easier than fighting her on it, probably what every fucking man has said in her presence before.

“Isn’t it, though?”

I snort. “It’s not.”

I don’t answer her. I don’t give a fuck what she thinks. What she wants. Emmie Grant is not a good person. I don’t care what she’s trying to portray. I know enough to see that she is less than a good fucking person. I want to watch both her and her father fucking burn for their crimes because I know in my heart that they’re involved with Ravet.

I just can’t prove it yet.

LUCILLE

Day three of being on lockdown. I’ve likely already lost my job by now. I loved that job, too, which really bites the big one. It doesn’t matter at this point, though. I would be a fool to try and walk out of this condo.

That weirdo followed me around for God knows how long and could have killed me at any moment. Then my mind begins to run through all the reasons why I wasn’t murdered sooner. He could have killed me at any moment, but he didn’t. Why?

I can’t stop thinking about it.

Maybe it’s because I’m in this room alone, but it’s consuming me. Why the fuck didn’t he already kill me? Walking over to the window, I look down at the world below me. Everyone is walking around. They have no idea I’m sitting here, a woman with a price on her head.

Sucking in a breath, I turn around and make my way back into the living room. I am so beyond bored. I have nothing to do here. It’s not like I can clean. I don’t have a desire to cook, and I don’t have laundry to do because I don’t have any clothes.

Every morning, I wake up and wash my underwear and clothes while I sit around, wrapped in a blanket, sometimes a towel, in hopes that Theron will appear.

He doesn’t.

Why did he lock me up here? Seriously, what’s the point? Why doesn’t he just let these people end me? It’s not like he wants to be with me. I’m locked away like some dirty little secret.

Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, I let out a long breath through my nostrils just as the front door opens. It’s him. Theron. He closes the door behind him. It’s so quiet in this room that I can actually hear the door lock click behind him.

His gaze finds mine, focuses on mine, and then, without a word, he marches toward me. Sucking in a breath, I hold it as he approaches me. When he lifts his hand, he wraps his fingers around the front of my throat, not saying a single word before he dips his chin and touches his lips to mine.

A moment later, his hands are on my ass as I’m being lifted into the air and carried to the bedroom. I’m surprised that he’s not pressing me against the window again, but I’ll take the bedroom. In all honesty, I would take anything, anywhere, as long as it included Theron.

When he stops beside the bed, he slowly lets me slide down his body until my feet touch the floor, and then his fingers curl around my waist as he holds on to me.

“Theron,” I rasp.

His lips curve up into a smirk, his gaze searching my own. “Sweetheart,” he murmurs.

I should make him tell me what he’s been doing—demand to know if he’s been with her. But I don’t, mainly because I’m not sure if I really want to know the answer. I think I’ll live in complete and total denial.

His hand slides up my side, and then he cups the side of my cheek, his thumb sliding across my bottom lip before he leans forward and touches his lips to mine. “It’s almost over, Lucille.”

I try to take a step backward, but his fingers grip my waist tighter and don’t allow me to move. He lifts his head from mine, his gaze focused and connected to my own before he speaks.

“Don’t try to get away. When I tell you that it’s almost over, you better fucking believe that it’s almost fucking over.”

“Then what happens? When you get whatever secret mission you’re on accomplished, what materializes?” I demand.

I’m so curious, mainly because he’s been adamant about being with her. I don’t know if he has feelings for her or what it is, but I can’t help but wonder what is actually going on. He isn’t telling me everything. He hasn’t been since the beginning.

“When I get what I want, I’m done with Emmie. I’ll take care of her.”

His words sound so callous, and maybe I should care because he could be saying the same things about me. I’m sure he is to Emmie. He won’t even admit it, but I know he’s, without a doubt, saying something. Because she clearly wants me gone.

“And if you never get finished with whatever it is you are doing?” I ask.

It’s a possibility.

I know it is.

Whatever it is that he’s doing, he has been on this journey for a while, along with the rest of his men. I don’t want to be locked up in this condo forever. Safe from the outside world, but not with him. Theron owns me, and if he stays with Emmie, visiting me only when he’s able, it will eventually kill me.

“I’ll finish it, sweetheart. Swear to fuck,” he grinds out before he squeezes his hands around my waist and lowers his head down to meet mine.

I want to believe him. I love him, and I want to believe everything he’s saying to me. I want him to confess his love for me again, to ask me to marry him, to live happily ever after, but I don’t know if it will ever happen. It’s a dream, a pipe dream, and nothing more. I need to accept these bits and pieces he’s giving me because a year ago, this would have been a dream come true.

Instead of asking him for any details, I lift my hands, cupping his cheeks before I touch my lips to his. The future be damned. I need the present. I’ll worry about everything else sometime tomorrow.