Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Eleanor
My heart for a flaky pastry.
I refuse to be embarrassed about the fact my host is holding my sex toy hostage. I have too much going on to worry about what Hunter thinks of me, or what he’s doing with said sex toy. I grind to a halt, my muscles quivering deep within me as my mind feeds me unholy images of Hunter laying on his bed, staring up at his mirror, and playing with said toy. It unhelpfully adds me to the scene, and now I’m the one he’s tackling with the vibrations. Well, that’s a shocking thought. I have never used a toy with a partner before, as it’s a level of intimacy I’m not prepared for. I feel that, in order to start exposing oneself that much, the man should be able to get you off without aids. It’s like leveling up on a game—can’t get to level two without first making your woman come. Seeing stars feels like a boss level, major power up that is elusive and impossible without cheating. Maybe the women claiming to see stars are blackout drunk, or perhaps they hit their heads and have a concussion to go alongside their pleasure.
I rescued my few belongings from the dryer earlier, so when I emerge from the bedroom, I am at least in my own clothing and ready to set some ground rules.
There’s no sign of the twin panty thieves, so I can only assume they are out on a walk. My shoulders drop. A little space from the man behind those explicit thoughts is good. I slide my laptop onto the breakfast counter and move around the kitchen, preparing coffee and popping some bread in the toaster. My gaze snags on the refrigerator, finding the letters rearranged once again.
Back soon for a naked show or your hands down your pants.
Wow. Presumptuous. I glance at the kitchen counter and briefly have the urge to strip naked and lay myself out on the surface. The look in his eyes last night burns in my soul. His jaw was on the floor before he covered his shock with smart-ass remarks.
Do not enter into a battle of wills with the biker, Eleanor. He has years of practice. You. Will. Lose.
The smell of fresh coffee wafting from my mug makes my mouth water, and I slide onto the bar stool before opening my laptop. The mysterious C is still holding strong against my persistent prodding of their firewalls, but the camera access has returned. Sipping my coffee, my eyes roll into the back of my head as a pop-up message appears.
Ghost, on the orders of the prez, you have access to the majority of the cameras around town. Do not try to pry within his private home or grounds. Retribution will be swift and deadly. Consider this a favor. You owe us one.
Fuck. I hate owing anyone anything. That’s how people get into trouble, being forced to do shit against their better judgment. It is a worry that William is now able to identify me by my hacker name, but ultimately, he’s a small fry in this web of monsters I’m tangled in.
I pull up my facial recognition program, and there’s not been one hit. That is unusual. It could be Christopher, Jonathan, and my brother are hiding out somewhere. Perhaps on one of their private islands where they can play out their sick fantasies without fear of retribution. I consider the possibility Christopher has put enough together and is employing his own vast wealth to cover his tracks as he hunts me, but his collection last season wasn’t nearly as successful as his board was hoping.
I can’t judge how hard he’s going to come after me. If I’m lucky, he has already decided I’m not worth the trouble and is focusing on another victim. The thought sours my stomach. I don’t want anyone hurt in my stead. I have enough guilt from my childhood, and I don’t need it as an adult too. But to show my hand too early will mean I am not deep enough to stop this vast enterprise once and for all. I need to worm into Jonathan’s grasp a little stro?—
The door opens, and the tapping of nails precedes Charlie’s excited wiggling at seeing me. I glare at the dog responsible for my unstoppable orgasm. Without his interference, I would not have lost it in front of Hunter. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.
“Morning,” Hunter greets with a wide smile as he slides a cardboard box onto the counter. The smell makes my stomach rumble, and the noise echoes in the room.
Hunter raises a brow as he grabs two plates from the cupboard and places them by the delicious smelling box. “Worked up an appetite?” he asks.
I roll my eyes as I sip my coffee. I might not always get people’s hidden meanings or undertones, but this is so obvious—like a slap to the face.
“Ravenous.” I startle at my response. I don’t get hungry, probably because of something Jonathan broke in me. Being starved was one of his favorite forms of control and punishment, as it was easy to manipulate people too weak to fight back.
Hunter chuckles as he prepares his coffee before opening the box that has stolen my attention. The peach pie came in an identical bakery box, and if that’s an indication of the quality of food, I’m looking forward to the delicious baked treats inside.
He places a couple of flaky croissants, some danishes, and a few babkas on a plate. “Help yourself. I didn’t know what you would prefer.”
All of them is on the tip of my tongue, but I pick up a danish and bite into it, a groan rumbling in my throat. It’s still slightly warm, and oh so fucking delicious.
“That’s amazing,” I tell him.
He stares at my lips, his eyes growing darker. “You have a little...”
I swipe the edge of my bottom lip with my finger and suck it in my mouth.
“No.” He taps the top right of his lip. I try again, and he chuckles as I come up empty.
“You’re fucking with me,” I mutter.
He reaches out, and I freeze as he runs his thumb over my bottom lip. The side I missed. His eyes flare, his pupils expanding as he pushes past my lips. My tongue swipes his skin, and sure enough, I taste the sweetness of strawberry jelly.
I suck harder, keeping eye contact. His throat bobs. Two can play this game, Mr. King.
He clears his throat and drags his thumb from between my lips before selecting a croissant for himself and dropping onto the stool next to me. “What are your plans for today?”
“First, I need to order some clothes.”
His lips twitch. “You are welcome to mine.”
“I prefer my own. Then I need to dig a little deeper into Christopher. He’s either covering his tracks, or he’s sequestered away in one of Jonathan’s hideouts, doing unspeakably horrific things to women.”
“Covering his tracks seems like an odd thing to do unless he’s figured out you are a smart resourceful hacker.”
I know how skilled I am, and I’ve never been one to seek accolades. You can’t when you are playing fast and loose with the law. But Hunter acknowledging me as smart does something funny to my stomach.
“Agreed. He must know I changed my name on the flight manifest, but he might think I had help with that.”
“What was your cover story?”
“A vet nurse fired for rebuffing her boss’s advances.”
“Who owns a penthouse apartment in the most expensive district of Chicago?”
“I wasn’t planning on him following me home,” I growl.
“He’s not stupid, Eleanor. He will know you lied. How likely is he to find your true identity?”
“Less than fifteen percent.”
“And if he’s successful, will that lead him to your past?”
“No. My last name was never Austin.”
“Eleanor’s hardly a common first name. Why keep it?”
I release a sigh. Logically, I should have changed my entire name, but there are numerous reasons I didn’t. I give him the one driven by logic, the one least damning of my past. “Changing your first name runs the risk you don’t respond to it like you should, raising suspicions and attracting attention.”
“I’m sure you could have managed to keep it together.”
True. I take a sip of my coffee. “It’s the only thing my mother gave me that survived.”
Charlie nuzzles my free hand at my side. The ever-present terror I feel around dogs is almost non-existent with this particular pooch. There’s something about those soulful eyes that coax me into believing he isn’t going to harm me.
“That’s understandable. Being ripped from the world you grew up in, no matter the wrongness, oppression, and horror of it, is still a wrench.”
“It’s how I ended up in the military,” I confess. “I needed the rules, routine, and discipline to help me navigate the strange world and customs I found myself in. I needed the security of that space while I figured out how I fit into wider society.”
“What did you learn?”
“That I don’t fit. I have since learned fitting in is overrated and impossible. I can fake it by blending into my surroundings and being unmemorable.”
“Not sure you could ever be unmemorable, Eleanor.”
My lips tilt up as my hand runs over Charlie’s head. It feels nice. “My gut tells me Christopher is covering his tracks. Jonathan’s famous retreat isn’t scheduled for another month, and they take a lot of work and money to plan, so an impromptu gathering seems unlikely.”
“Then we flush him out.”
I finish my first pastry and eyeball the chocolate one. Hunter puts it on my plate while giving himself the twin.
My lips twitch. I’ve already figured this part out, but I’m curious what Hunter thinks. “How would we flush him out exactly?”
“Easy. We dry up his funding, and like rats on a sinking ship, he will surface for air. They always do.”
“That’s something you can do?”
“Can you get me into his bank account or emails?”
“I can do emails in my sleep. Banks are a little trickier, but doable.”
“Email is all I need to cause his company a little financial chaos, ensuring his attention is on saving his own ass and not chasing yours.”
Interesting. I don’t dabble in the financial markets due to the fact I have zero clue what I am doing. I have a guy that looks after my investments portfolio and a lawyer who knows what to do with it when the time comes.
“Don’t you have motorcycle club shit to attend to?”
“I’m on leave for the next two weeks.”
So that’s why he was in Miami; he was catching some downtime. I feel a slight twinge of guilt that my crisis meant he cut his vacation short, but he didn’t have to do it, and he certainly didn’t need to become my shadow to Chicago. Or insist I come to Texas to hide out at his home, in his town, with his dog.
“Whoop-de-doo. Hunter in my face twenty-four seven.”
“Technically, you are now my girlfriend, so that’s not unreasonable.”
“Fake girlfriend.”
He scoffs, looking at me from the corner of his eye. “Sure.”
“Don’t be getting any smart ideas about any public appearances where we have to put on a show. I can be your fake girlfriend from the comfort of your home just as easily as holding hands down the street or locking lips at the local bar.”
“Are you that opposed to kissing me?”
I am opposed to anything which involves touching you.
His lips curve up, and there’s a promise of sin in his eyes, urging me to throw caution to the wind. I set my jaw, staring at the leftovers on my plate. Eve wasn’t tempted because it was sinful. She was tempted, and ultimately fell for, the devil’s trap because of a promise of what could be. What would forbidden fruit taste like? Why was it forbidden?
Charlie huffs and licks my hand.
“What do you want?” I ask.
Hunter chuckles. “Attention, Eleanor. He’s a sucker for an ear scratch and a belly rub. He’s also loyal but exceptionally stubborn. He won’t move until you give him some love.”
“He’s literally you in dog form.”
Hunter hums. “You mentioned you were tracking Jonathan.”
I look at my screen, still seeing no hits from my software. “Always.”
“His retreat isn’t scheduled for another month, meaning he… what? Goes underground until then?”
I shake my head. It’s taken me a long time to put together the model Jonathan constantly changes, to examine the common threads and make predictions with high confidence in my accuracy.
“He’s about to host a wellness conference.”
Hunter snorts. “Seriously?”
“What do extremely rich people have in common? What is their biggest fear and ultimate downfall?”
“Rich people struggle to engage with anyone not on their financial level.”
“Correct.”
“Their fear is split between their money not filling whatever hole in their life they have and being taken advantage of by others.”
“Also correct.”
“They’re always chasing the next thing. Sex. Drugs. Crime. They test boundaries that stretch much wider because of their wealth and influence, and their downfall is either snapping that boundary or taking themselves out in a blaze of poor choices.”
“You are very astute.”
“I’m very rich and self-aware.”
Unusual combination. “Jonathan has positioned himself as someone who is able to offer support and guidance to these people. He promises a life of enlightenment and a cushion of support for people who join him. He preys on rich women, specifically ones who lack a support network and have been burned by people pretending to love them.”
“What about the men?”
“They are recruited for their darker urges. The rich women ultimately hand over the reins of their finances to Jonathan and his team for a life free of stress and worry. Many of these women become poster people to draw in more and more with each intake. He makes the wellness retreats super exclusive, five to ten spots for each month-long immersion. He is a master manipulator. During the four weeks, these women are assessed for their susceptibility into his cult. If they are deemed easily influenced, he keeps them and draws them deeper and deeper until they no longer know themselves. They are wholly dependent on him for their decision making.”
“Is that what happened to your mom?”
I press my lips together and frown at my plate. “No. Back then, his cult was a fledgling organization barely off the ground. Jonathan knew he had influence. He knew he could manipulate, but he focused on people lost in their world. My mom was pregnant with a child conceived out of wedlock with a boy my grandparents didn’t approve of. She overheard them discussing slipping abortion meds into her drink and ran. She didn’t stop running until she met Jonathan. He provided safety and shelter for a very pregnant, very scared teenager. Once she realized what was happening, it was too late.”
“Do you speak to your grandparents?”
“No. I refused to meet them. My uncle is the only blood relative I have contact with.”
“That’s a lot to handle alone, Eleanor.”
“Can’t you see? If my mother had handled her situation alone, she never would have fallen for him. Love doesn’t make us strong, Hunter, it makes us vulnerable. Weak. It fools us into submitting to people who have their own agendas. The only person you can depend on is yourself.”
“That’s an extremely sad way to live.”
Sad, perhaps. But safe.