Chapter 22

Samuel sure has me fucking figured out.

I'm a sick, depraved fuck.

Maybe all this asphyxiation is causing brain damage, but I can't fucking get enough of him. I glance over my shoulder at him, sitting a few tables behind me at the coffee shop, only to find him staring back at me with an unwavering hunger in his eyes.

Be strong, Cora.

"You are not fucking me in the bathroom of this coffee shop," I mouth the words before turning back to the counter to wait for our coffee order.

My phone immediately buzzes in my pocket, and I know it's him before I pull it from my jeans.

Samuel

I'll fuck you when and where I want.

If I wanted to bend you over the fucking counter, you'd take every fucking inch of me as everyone in here watched what a slut you are for me.

You'd fight me, but you'd love every fucking second of it.

I'm about to put it back into my pocket when it buzzes again.

Maybe I'll get one of these women to eat that perfect cunt of yours while I take your ass.

You seemed to enjoy that yesterday.

Fuck, he isn't wrong…what an afternoon.

Tell me you aren't wet…

Shoving the phone back into my pocket, I turn to find a devilish grin spread clear across his face.

Fucking bastard.

It took him no time at all to figure out exactly what makes me tick—being completely at his mercy. The rest of this relationship thing, we're kind of figuring that out as we go.

"Cora," the barista calls my name and slides two paper cups in my direction.

"Thank you." I nod as I lift them both from the counter. Turning, I immediately notice that the fun, playful look has completely dissipated from Samuel's face. In its place is a dark scowl. Pure, unadulterated anger.

Murderous rage.

It isn't until the woman in front of me moves that I realize a middle-aged gentleman has helped himself to my seat across the table from Samuel. The man has a folder splayed open and is aggressively pointing at the contents as though he's goading Samuel to look at whatever is laid on the table before him.

The man quickly closes the folder and pulls it back to his side of the table when he sees me approaching. Placing the coffee order before Samuel, I tentatively question, "Everything okay here?"

"Perfect, love." Samuel's response oozes with tension as he stands from his seat.

"I don't think we've met." The gentleman stands as he extends a hand toward me.

"Cora Durant." I hesitantly slip my hand into his.

"Detective Michales," he responds, and I glance to Samuel, my inquisitiveness clearly written across my face. "And how long have you known Mr. Millington?"

"A couple of we?—"

"She doesn't need to answer any of your questions," Samuel interrupts me, ire lacing his tone. "If you want to talk to her, you can contact my attorney."

"I'm thinking we enjoy our coffee anywhere but here." Samuel grabs his cup and gently nudges me toward the exit. Grabbing my free hand, he begins pulling me past the detective. Even though I'm unsure of what exactly is happening, I don't resist him.

"You might want to be more selective with the company you decided to keep." The detective firmly grips my arm as I attempt to pass him and my hand slips from Samuel's grasp. His grip is firm and unrelenting when I attempt to pull from him. He shoves a card into my hand as he continues, "If you want to know who he really is, call me."

"Remove your fucking hands from her." Samuel aggressively shoves him. The detective releases my arm, and I immediately rub over the tender spot where he gripped me as I watch the two of them square up. "You don't ever fucking touch her. Because I'll fucking kill you if you do it again."

"Did you just assault and threaten an officer of the law?" The detective reaches for his hip and flips the strap of his holster off his gun.

The two of them have garnered the attention of every patron inside the small shop as well as a few onlookers from the sidewalk.

"Samuel…" My voice is soft as I timidly grab at his arm. When he doesn't respond, I squeeze a little and repeat his name. "Samuel. We should go."

Breaking his attention from the detective before him, he looks at me, and I gently usher him toward the exit before slipping my hand back into his.

He pushes open the door, and the detective calls after us, "I'll be seeing you soon, Samuel. Probably you too, Cora."

Samuel squeezes my hand firmly as he practically drags me down the street. There is no denying his anger or the distance he is attempting to put between us and the detective.

Glancing down as I struggle to keep up with his brisk pace, I read the business card tucked in between my fingers and the coffee cup.

DETECTIVE MICHALES

Homicide/Violent Crimes

What the actual fuck?