Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
NADINE
Smoothing down my skirt, I look behind me, half expecting to see Grayson there watching me, but he’s not.
Then I listen for the front door of my apartment, hoping he’ll appear and take me to work.
He doesn’t.
I know it’s a foolhardy idea because I’m the reason he’s not here, even though I want him back.
I feel stupid.
He doesn’t want me.
I should have just left it at that, given him a smile and hoped that he would come around somehow, that I would somehow be able to charm him—seduce him.
I snort.
The idea is hilarious, me seducing anyone, like full-on hilarious.
Grabbing my purse, phone, and keys, I shove my phone inside my handbag, hitch the straps over my shoulder, and walk out of my apartment.
Locking the door behind me, I glance around and let out a heavy sigh.
I don’t have to be scared anymore.
I’m free.
Freer than I would like to be, but free nonetheless.
Walking out of my apartment, I head to my car and sink down into the front seat, but not before I check the back seat out of habit—nobody is hiding there.
Starting the engine, I glance into the rearview mirror, shift the car into Reverse , and make my way toward the office.
I haven’t really been away that long, only a few days, but with months of being on lockdown in the safe house and then walking away, it feels like it’s been a lot longer.
And I’m nervous.
I’m nervous about how I’m going to feel when I finally face Theron.
I gave him my two-week notice.
Then I disappeared.
It was rude, it was wrong, it was not like me, and no matter the excuses, I shouldn’t have done it.
But I did.
And now I have to face him and apologize.
It doesn’t take me long to drive to the office.
I’ve been taking the same route every day for years.
But as I shift my car into Park , staring at the building in front of me, I can’t help but wonder just what it’s going to be like now without Grayson.
I shouldn’t have let him walk away.
This is his world as much as it’s mine, even more so.
I know what he went through, what they all went through, and I know that they need each other.
The guilt begins to consume me, begins choking me.
Fight-or-flight instinct has me looking over my shoulder to get back to my car and run.
But I don’t.
Shifting back around to face the building, I begin to walk.
One foot in front of the other.
I need to go in there and do my job because Lucille and Colette have a plan.
It’s going to work, too.
It has to.
There is no other alternative that I’ll allow.
The only other choice will be that I’ll have to chase him down.
It’s going to be really embarrassing, especially since there will have to be a lot of begging involved, and I don’t want to be that girl.
But for him, I would be any girl he wanted.
I want Grayson home.
Selfishly for me, but also for him because this is his family, and I know that they all want him here almost as badly as I do.
But not quite.
Because I don’t want him just here in Nights, I want him inside of me.
I want him beside me.
I want him to own me.
The office is quiet as I step onto the elevator.
I think about using the stairs for some extra exercise, especially since I ate more sweet treats than salty treats last night.
But I don’t.
I’m tired and too nervous to try climbing them in my heels.
I would probably fall flat on my face with my shaky legs.
The car doors open with a ding.
Stepping out in the hallway, I turn toward my desk and stop at the sight of Theron, Boden, Hale, Vaughn, and Merrick standing in a line in front of my desk.
The only person missing is Grayson, and that makes my heart squeeze.
Hesitantly, I move toward them.
One foot in front of the other.
I try really hard not to trip and fall, and thankfully, I don’t do that because it would be embarrassing as hell.
Stopping a few feet in front of them, I tip my head back slightly so I can look up at their faces.
“I’m back,” I whisper.
And then something happens.
I don’t know how it does, but in the next breath, I’m surrounded by these five large men, and they wrap their arms around me in a big, over-six-foot-tall group hug.
“We missed you. Don’t ever leave us again,” Theron murmurs before they take a step backward as a group.
Each of the men gives me a smirk and a wink before they walk away, but Theron stays.
“You’re the only woman I could ever have at my desk, Nadine,” he announces.
I don’t remind him that his wife works here in the office.
Instead, I give him a small smile.
His lips twitch as his eyes search mine.
He doesn’t elaborate on the fact that I am indeed not the only woman he could have at his desk, but I don’t question him, either.
“You take care of me, of all of us. And this world, this office, is darker without you in it. Don’t leave us again. Just talk to me.”
“I didn’t think that talking about my relationship with Grayson would be appropriate.”
He snorts.
“I already got the scoop from Lucille. She likes to talk after she comes,” he states, and I press my lips together, trying not to giggle at his words.
“I think he needs to come back here, too, and I agree that it needs to be on his terms, or at least he thinks it does. I’m in on it.”
God.
How did I ever think I could leave these men?
They are amazing.
GRAYSON
The first man on my list is all the way in Florida.
His last known whereabouts were twelve hours away outside of Miami.
His connection to Landon Tate was as an informant from one of the Cuban Mafia regimes here stateside.
I have no doubt he was trafficking women for whatever sick shit Tate was part of, and in turn, Ravet.
Because there is no way that Ravet’s dirty fucking fingers weren’t all in this pie.
This has his name written all over it.
And even though it doesn’t matter too much anymore, seeing as the fucker is dead, actually both fuckers, Ravet and Tate, are dead, I still want to know, and I still want the blood of every single man involved.
Vaughn’s approach to the rage that he feels inside is, without a doubt, understandable now that we’ve been working on this shit.
I want to go back and hurt Tate more.
I want to go back and torture Ravet.
But I can’t.
Killing someone who is just as fucking evil sounds like a damn good plan.
During the entire twelve-hour drive, two things on my mind play on a loop.
One is finding these sick fucks and ending them; although I’m only supposed to be doing surveillance, it doesn’t make me want to kill them less.
And two, Nadine.
Nadine is never out of my thoughts, no matter how far those thoughts drift as I drive.
Beating the GPS, I arrive in Miami in eleven hours.
I’m not sure why it feels like I’ve accomplished something, but I know that nobody gives a shit but me about that.
Instead of getting a hotel, I head straight for the rented home I booked during my last stop to fuel.
Pulling into the driveway of the rented house, I take my phone out of my pocket and thumb through my emails until I find the one with the passcode.
It’s well into the evening, past ten, and I’m exhausted from sitting on my ass for hours on end.
It’s a three-bedroom, three-and-a-half-bath house in what seems to be a nice and quiet neighborhood.
I’m not sure if it’s going to be the right fit for me.
I don’t need anyone watching or paying attention to my comings and goings.
Gathering my shit, I unload the car into the foyer.
Setting everything down on the shiny white-tiled flooring.
Then I lock the front door, start to look around the house, and take in my new home for the next month.
I’ve prepaid for the month in hopes that it will take me less than that to get this information, to get this bastard, and get the fuck out.
As much as I want to be the one to physically end his life, whoever the fuck he is, I don’t know what I’m walking into, so I need to just relax.
Plus, I’m not a mercenary.
As much as I want to think I am, indeed, I am not.
So, what I need to do is stick to the plan.
I need to do the work, the surveillance.
I need to get this fuck on the map and then send that information to the office so they can do their work.
Whatever that looks like…
hopefully, it includes an early death.
The house is nicely furnished, almost too nice for a rental.
The sofa itself probably cost ten grand.
It’s white leather to match the white flooring.
The rug that said sofa sits on is black and plush.
Moving to the kitchen, I’m not surprised to see every cabinet full of whatever a house would need to operate, including small appliances that I don’t even know what the fuck they’re used for.
Something catches the corner of my eye, and I look out the back door to see a swimming pool.
Well, at least I’ll be able to get a little relaxation in during the hours I’m not working.
Maybe I can even do some of my computer work by the pool with a drink.
My lips turn up into a smirk.
Maybe I won’t want to go home after all.
But as soon as I think that, my heart twitches because an image of Nadine flashes in front of my eyes, making me want to go back right fucking now.
I’ve got a duty, a mission, and I’m not going to slack on my job.
This job protects her, and it needs my whole attention, which is what it will get.
Every damn ounce.