CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

"Cut it out." Killian points at the knife I flip repeatedly in my hand.

"Why?" I pretend to file my nails with the knife's blade, placing an ankle over my knee. "Jealous of Cyclone?"

Our second and last meeting ended ten minutes ago. We vetted two new dirty politicians as members, explained the rules thoroughly, and now we're done.

No big drama today.

Other than the one going on in my head. Where I have two certain people naked in every position possible.

On me. Under me. In and sheathing me.

Fuck.

"Should I be?" Killian who sits at my side cocks his head.

Neither of us sits behind the desk during our meetings. Appearances are everything. We're equals, and everyone should treat us as such.

"Nah. If anything, I should be jealous." I slip the blade back in, sliding it into my pocket. "I have plans for Amara. Blood play. Something kinky. Something that'll make me wish my teeth could be sharp enough to get the job done. Cyclone's going to have so much fun."

Unphased by my depravity, Killian unbuttons his suit jacket. He eyes me curiously

His amusement is short-lived, though. "Speaking of your girl…"

"Our," I correct. I'm his and hers, blah, blah, blah. It's sentimental crap, but it has to be said.

"Our." A flash of possessiveness flares in Killian's eyes.

"Yes. About Amara." I scratch my stubbled cheek. "What's up? Wanna know if she fakes her orgasms? The answer is no. Never."

Killian licks the upper row of his teeth. "How can you be so sure?"

"I am."

"Maybe she's a really good actress." He doesn't mean it.

Still, his taunting has me snapping out of my laid-back position.

"She might be a good actress. After all, she's good at everything she does." My foot drops to the floor, both hands on my knees as I lean into his face. The scent of his aftershave turns me right the fuck on. "But her pussy isn't."

Silence. A challenge.

"You know what? Let's call her and ask."

"Carter." He grabs my chin, ensnaring my gaze in his. "You're not allowed to mention her orgasms, yours, or mine while we're alone. I can't get hard at work."

"Is that an order?" I speak inches from his face. Baiting him. "Dad?"

"Step. On second thought, we should call Amara. I imagine she'd give me permission to spank your ass raw for that last bit." His eyes narrow. "With or without her being present."

"Do it, then."

I'm hard, my cock straining against my pants. I don't wait for Killian to respond, fishing my phone out and dialing Amara's number. Once it starts ringing, my eyes don't leave Kill's.

His nostrils flare. "Phone sex."

"Yeah." The phone rings. "We both get to tell Amara what to do. How to come. With our pants off."

We wait until it goes to voicemail.

"Weird." I frown, breaking eye contact. The CCTV app doesn't show her anywhere around the penthouse. She's not in the shop, either.

"She would've called to let us know if she left the house." Killian releases me, sitting back. "She's probably in the bathroom. Don't worry."

"You're right." His calm demeanor soothes my frayed nerves. "Next time we leave the house, I'm putting a tracker on her."

Killian quirks an eyebrow, giving me that you're being crazier than usual look. When I shrug, he schools his features.

"About the man who broke into her apartment. Chuck." Killian cuts to the question he's been meaning to ask from the get-go. Showing me that he, too, is crazy about her. Obsessed with keeping her safe. "Any news?"

"No. I'll text them again." Same as I have whenever I fucking could.

This time, however, they beat me to it. A notification flashes on the screen of my phone.

"Fucking finally." Impatience takes over and I unlock the phone. "So Chuck worked on his own. No money trail. No calls to anyone but his mother. He was a nobody. A stalking thieving, probably-rapist nobody."

"Great news." While the tension leaves Killian's shoulders, I'm on edge all over again.

I grit my teeth, my blood burning in my veins. The memory of her unconscious and moments from being raped turns me into a murderous beast. I feel like bringing Chuck back from the dead just so I could murder him a second time.

Slow and painful.

One patch of skin after the other.

Glue them to a trophy and hand it over to Amara.

Or not. It'd send her screaming from me.

"We're leaving the cameras we installed in her shop where they are." Killian cuts into my homicidal train of thought. "That doesn't change. Someone else might try and get to her in a month. A week. A goddamn year. They stay."

Minor detail, those cameras. We installed them without her knowledge. Our guy scoped the shop when A was here—we called him the minute she left. He then returned the same night to finish the job. We have eyes on her twenty-four/seven.

It's a necessity. It's also hot. So fucking hot to be able to stalk her everywhere. Our lives are going to get that much more interesting. I would've opened the CCTV app in the penthouse to see what she's doing, but I think Killian's talking to me.

"Carter."

Yeah, definitely talking to me. "Yes?"

"I said, we're leaving the cameras in her shop."

"Yes." I nod. "Can't be too careful."

Killian's quiet. No. Not quiet. He's giving me that other look now. That cut the crap look.

Yesterday, he was willing to give me a month to come clean to Amara. Guess he's lost his patience.

I straighten my spine, preparing to defend myself when three raps on the door interrupt my monologue. The one I've repeated in my head for the past six months.

"Killian? Carter?" Luna's voice comes over the walkie talkie.

"Come in," Killian answers, his head whipping to the door.

Luna enters the room. Her raven-black long hair is straight and parted down the middle. The black eyeliner outlines her blue eyes. The black pencil skirt and black jacket that make for her concierge outfit are flawless.

Everything's as it should be.

Except for her hands. Luna wrings her hands. She hardly ever does that. She's confident. Handles the crap our members do if Killian and I are busy.

Unless…

Unless they get violent.

I'm on my feet in a matter of seconds. "What's wrong?"

My muscles strain. Adrenaline pumps through my veins.

Whoever this asshole is, thank you. For the past five minutes, I've been anxious to bash someone's head in. Since Chuck's preoccupied with being dead and all.

Killian moves to stand at my side. Communicates silently to chill the fuck out without Luna noticing our exchange.

"Your next meeting. A certain member is upsetting them."

"Who?" I bark, since we don't have a next meeting. Whoever's doing the upsetting is doing it to another member. The latter's identity doesn't matter. The culprit's is.

"Christopher Boroughs." Luna's dark eyebrows pinch. "Our security just left for their bathroom break and Christopher's started being an asshole. I would've said something to separate them, but he scared me. He scared all of us. There's something off about him this afternoon, more than usual. I came here as fast as I could. I didn't want to wait. Your meeting didn't seem to mind."

Metaphorically, I'm already out the door. My fingers wrapped around Christopher's collar, dragging him downstairs. Making him bleed.

Except it's this again. "Wait. What next meeting?"

"There is no next meeting." Killian bristles.

"I know, she said she had to see you, and—"

A current of electricity crosses between Killian and me. An understanding followed by a primal need to protect what's ours.

"She?" we ask simultaneously.

"The cute flower girl. Amara."