Chapter 30
Donavan
I swear the woman is going to ruin me. I’m going to fuck around and really get her pregnant if I’m not careful.
I drop my eyes down to her flat stomach.
What if she’s already pregnant?
I shove down the thought of getting her a morning-after pill. Somehow, her growing my baby is both the best and worst fucking idea in the world.
“You need to get dressed. I’m taking you to your sister.”
“I don’t want to go there,” she argues.
“I have a fucking meeting,” I say, climbing out of the bed.
She doesn’t argue with me further as I head back into the bathroom.
I’ve showered more times in the last two days than I ever do, but no amount of scrubbing at my skin makes me feel any cleaner.
I know I’m not physically tainted with my sins, but having committed so many with my hands, I’m almost disgusted at using them on her.
She doesn’t join me in the shower. She’s sitting on the side of the bed when I finish and go back into the bedroom.
I watch her for a long moment, wondering how opposed she would be to me pushing her to her back and forcing her hips up for the next hour.
“You can’t ride across town naked.”
It was her warm clothes-free body that enticed me to touch her when I woke up this morning. If she just pulled on one of my t-shirts, I could keep my fingers in her all the way to Ayla and Nash’s house.
She stands, walking past me into the bathroom, and she gets dressed faster than I can manage.
I hate the sight of that fucking diner uniform on her body.
It does too much to accentuate her curves, the top dipping lower than needed to wait tables.
But I get the appeal. It’s purposeful, the uniform possibly drawing in more customers than the shitty food they serve there.
I hate whoever thought it was a good idea to sexualize their staff.
“Ready,” she says without bothering to look in my direction before grabbing her powered-down phone from the bedside table and walking out of the room.
The ride to the house is silent. As much as I want all emotions left in the past where they belong, it makes me feel like I’ve done something wrong. I hate to feel things, especially regret or remorse.
She leans forward when I pull up close to the house, and I can see by the look on her face that she hates it here. I hate that I insisted she leave the house. I should’ve asked her to stay, asked her to be waiting for me on that bed once the meeting is over.
“No one’s here,” she says, but she climbs out of the truck anyway.
I follow her. She doesn’t question why I step inside with her or why I follow her to her bedroom.
She doesn’t speak as she strips down. No noise is made when she steps into the shower and washes quickly.
I don’t shy away or hide the fact that I’m watching her, and she doesn’t attempt to hide a thing from me either.
“You hate it here,” I say when she steps out and begins to towel off.
The towel in her hands looks luxurious, something she didn’t even come close to having back at the other house. Yet, she never complained.
“I told you I didn’t want to come here.”
“Why don’t you like it?”
I swear to God I’ll rip Nash’s heart out if she says he’s done something to make her feel uncomfortable.
“I guess I’m still a little shaken up about what happened the other night.”
She takes a deep breath before hanging the towel back up and heading to her closet for clothes.
“Has he hurt you?”
She’s silent for a minute as she moves hangers around, deciding on a t-shirt and jeans.
“Who? Nash? Other than giving me his unsolicited opinions on occasion, he rarely even speaks to me. They spend a lot of time alone in their room.”
“They ignore you?”
She frowns as she slips a pair of lacy panties up her thighs before reaching for the matching bra.
“I’m not a child. They have their own lives and like to spend their time how they want. I don’t get an opinion about it. I’m just saying it’s lonely. It’s why I work so much and one of the reasons I’m going to try college again.”
There’s nothing she’s doing that’s overtly sexy, but I think it turns me on to watch her dress as much as it does to watch her pull each item of clothing off.
“Alone doesn’t bother me usually, but I’ll be fine. You don’t have to stay and babysit me.”
I watch her face, checking her eyes, but I can’t see even a hint that she’s trying to manipulate me. The thought of her in the house alone annoys me. Knowing she’s scared to be here? I’ll never be able to focus.
“Put some shoes on, and you can come with me.”
She chews on the corner of her bottom lip and she looks at me.
“Or you can stay here,” I tell her and walk out of the room.
She may think she’s getting an option, but honestly, I’ll go back into the house and drag her out if she doesn’t do as I say.
She’s coming off the front porch by the time I make it back to my truck. I school my face, doing my best to hide the smile I catch in my reflection in the driver’s side window.
I honestly don’t know if continuing to fight the idea of her would even be beneficial at this point. I don’t have a way to predict how long this obsession with her will last, and it’s a first for me since I was a teen that I’m considering someone else in my decisions.
There’s a real chance I’ll use her up and discard her, but worrying about the aftermath is not usually part of my plan.
I hate that she’s different, even as much as I like that she’s the only thing I’ve found that silences the whispering ghosts in my head.
She’s silent on the drive to the office, almost as if she’s worried that speaking will make me change my mind.
When we arrive, I don’t bother looking back at her.
She follows me to the door, and I knock before even attempting to pull the handle.
The office is more of a front than anything, and the door is always locked, a sign hanging on it that notifies people that the business is by appointment only but doesn’t offer a way to contact them.
I nod my thanks when Madelene opens the doors, stepping aside so we can enter.
“Oh, hi,” she says at my back. “I’m Madelene.”
She doesn’t mention being related to me by blood. If my sister is still anything like she was when I vanished, that hurts her. Pride and loyalty in family was something we were both raised to value.
“Alani. I’m Ayla’s sister.”
“Nice to meet you.”
I try not to picture what my life would’ve looked like if Marcello hadn’t picked Maya for his initiation, but sometimes those thoughts sneak up.
There’s no benefit in imagining her here.
Thinking of the baby we would’ve had if it hadn’t been cut from her body before it had the chance to breathe doesn’t change the way things are.
I sweep my eyes around the room. Everyone but Fox has a woman with them, despite this being a business meeting. I do my best not to see Alani as my woman the way Nash sees her sister, but the connection is hard to deny when she comes to stand beside me and not her older sister.
I feel Lauren’s, Ayla’s, and Madelene’s eyes on me, but I refuse to look in any of their directions.
“Men,” Angel grunts before heading to the back.
We all turn and file out of the room, following him to his office.
“I called the meeting because I want to get everyone on the same page,” Angel begins the second the door is closed.
There are six trained psychos in this room, and just the proximity of other men who would rather slit a person’s throat than listen to excuses has a way of vibrating. It’s as if the energy can’t escape so it becomes a living breathing thing.
It makes me want to kill and maim, to torture and scar. Being around these men is dangerous for all of us. Feeding off their energy is what will get us killed or arrested.
“I know most of you don’t give a shit what you’re doing so long as you’re getting paid. This will be a paid job, but it’s also personal for several of us,” Angel continues.
“Cortez,” Hollis says, his lip pulling up in a sneer.
Angel verifies with a quick dip of his head. “He’s gearing up to open his next fun house.”
My skin itches with the need to slice that man’s skin from his body, piece by tiny piece until he goes insane from the pain.
I know that I wouldn’t be the one to kill him though.
Liam, Angel, and Nash have all been tattooed with numbers, making them the equivalent of cattle in Cortez’s eyes.
I’m not sure what the first two men went through, but I know what Nash suffered and what Ayla suffered with him.
The fact that Cortez sent a man after Alani and wasn’t exactly successful doesn’t give me more skin in the game.
“I want to work together to—”
“No,” Fox grunts. “I work alone.”
None of us argue or give the man shit for his declaration. If that’s how he operates, that’s just how it is. We’re what most would consider private contractors. If we don’t want a job, we turn it down.
I don’t know about everyone else because we all have our own shit that makes us do the things we do, but I do it first to feed that sick twisted part inside of me, and second, the money is great. I’d wager most of us do it for the payday, but Fox is a different breed from all of us.
“How much does it pay?” Fox asks, surprising all of us.
“I was planning to do ten a piece,” Angel says, and I know that’s fifty thousand out of his own pocket because he’s the one hiring out for this.
“You can have mine,” Nash says.
“And mine,” Liam adds. “We’re stronger with you.”
Fox’s jaw flexes, and I don’t know the man enough to determine if he’s actually considering it or if he’s getting pissed others have offered him something.
“Don’t want anyone’s fucking money,” he growls. “I want to be the one to end him.”
Maybe I was wrong about Fox not being linked to Cortez. It seems the sex trafficker and drug dealer has made a lot of fucking enemies. From the look in Fox’s eyes, things aren’t going to end well for him.
I try to convince myself as the meeting continues that the second Cortez is no longer an issue, I’ll be able to walk away from Alani and my life can go back to normal. But even still, as I work through that plan, I can picture waking up with her beside me.
I know that I’m well and truly fucked where that woman is concerned.