Chapter Seven
Carver stalked through the dimly lit alleyways, his eyes scanning every shadow and movement. The hunt for Emmet had consumed his day and only deepened his frustration.
Every lead he followed, every usual spot he checked, Emmet had always just slipped away. It was as if the man was a ghost, vanishing into thin air each time Carver got close. He clenched his fists, the tension in his body coiling tighter with each passing hour. The streets were eerily quiet, the silence broken only by the distant hum of traffic and the occasional shout from a nearby building.
He turned a corner and spotted a group of men huddled together, their conversation dying down as they noticed his approach. Emmet ’ s usual circle of friends. Carver approached them, and the men eyed him warily. Without a word, he grabbed one of them by the collar, lifting him effortlessly off the ground.
“Where’s Emmet?” Carver growled, his patience at its limits.
The man’s eyes widened with fear. “I don’t know, man! He ain’t been around here!”
Carver tightened his grip. “Don’t lie to me. I’ve been chasing him all day, and I’m done playing games,” he said.
One of the other men stepped forward, raising his hands in a placating gesture.
“Easy, Carver. We haven’t seen him. Last we heard, he was hiding out near the docks, but that was hours ago,” the guys said.
Carver released his grip, letting the man stumble back. The docks. It was as good a lead as any. He turned on his heel and headed in that direction, his mind racing.
Emmet was desperate, cornered, and that made him dangerous. Carver knew he couldn’t afford to let his guard down for even a second.
As he neared the docks, the air grew colder, the scent of saltwater mingling with the stench of decay. The area was deserted, the abandoned warehouses casting long shadows in the fading light.
Carver moved silently, his senses on high alert. He rounded a corner and froze. There, at the far end of the dock, was Emmet. The man was hunched over, rummaging through a duffel bag. Finally! He crept closer, the sound of his footsteps masked by the lapping of the waves against the pier.
Just as he was about to apprehend him, Emmet looked up, his eyes wide with panic. He bolted, dropping the bag and sprinting down the dock. Carver cursed under his breath and gave chase.
Emmet was fast, but Carver was faster. He closed the distance between them, his breath coming in sharp bursts. Emmet reached the edge of the dock and skidded to a halt, looking around frantically. Carver lunged, tackling him to the ground. They rolled across the wooden planks, each fighting for the upper hand. Emmet struggled beneath him, but Carver’s grip was like iron.
“It’s over, Emmet,” he snarled. “You can’t run from me.”
Emmet’s eyes were wild with fear. “Please, Carver! I didn’t mean to cross you! I was just trying to survive!” Emmet blurted.
Carver’s anger flared, but he forced himself to stay calm. “Where’s the stash? The coke you stole from us?” he demanded.
Emmet hesitated, his breath ragged. “It’s … it’s in a locker at the train station. Locker 23. I swear, that’s all I took!” Emmet blurted
Carver stared into Emmet’s eyes, searching for any sign of deceit. Finally, he nodded and hauled Emmet to his feet.
“You’re coming with me. And if you’re lying, you’ll regret it,” Carver warned.
As he marched Emmet back toward his car, Carver couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. This hunt was far from over, and he had a sinking suspicion Emmet had more up his sleeve.
Carver kept a firm grip on Emmet ’ s arm as they headed to the train station. The bustling crowd provided the perfect cover for Emmet’s jittery behavior, but Carver kept his eyes on him.
They wove through the throngs of travelers, the noise of announcements and chatter creating a cacophony that added to Carver’s tension. Emmet ’ s nervousness was palpable. His eyes darted around, and he licked his lips repeatedly. Carver tightened his hold, his patience wearing thin.
“Keep moving,” he growled, pushing Emmet forward.
They finally reached the row of lockers. Emmet stopped in front of Locker 23, glancing at Carver with a mixture of fear and desperation.
“It’s all here, just like I said,” he muttered, fumbling with the key.
Carver watched closely as Emmet unlocked the door and swung it open. Inside, stacks of stolen merchandise gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lights. Carver quickly verified the contents—everything was accounted for. A wave of relief washed over him, but it was short-lived.
A sudden commotion erupted nearby as a group of teenagers spilled into the station, laughing and jostling each other. Carver’s attention flickered for a split-second, but it was enough. Emmet took his chance and bolted.
“Shit!” Carver cursed, shoving the locker door shut and taking off after him.
The station was a maze of people and luggage, and Emmet darted through the crowd with the agility of a rat. Carver’s heart pounded as he pushed past confused travelers, his eyes locked on Emmet’s fleeing form.
Emmet knew Carver planned to get rid of him after retrieving the goods. Devlin had made it clear: no loose ends. Carver couldn’t let Emmet escape, not now.
Emmet vaulted over a bench, narrowly avoiding a collision with an elderly woman. Carver followed, his breath coming in sharp bursts. He was gaining on Emmet, the gap between them closing rapidly. But Emmet was desperate, driven by the primal instinct to survive.
They burst out onto the platform, where a train was just beginning to pull away. Emmet’s eyes widened with hope, and he made a mad dash for the closing doors. Carver pushed himself harder, his muscles burning with the effort.
Just as Emmet leapt toward the train, Carver lunged, his fingers brushing against Emmet’s jacket. But it wasn’t enough. Emmet twisted free and slipped into the train just as the doors slid shut. Carver slammed his fist against the glass, frustration boiling over as the train began to move.
Emmet stood inside, panting, and clutching his side. He met Carver’s gaze, a mixture of fear and defiance in his eyes. Carver knew that look—Emmet wasn’t done yet. He was still a threat.
The train disappeared into the tunnel, leaving Carver standing on the platform, seething with anger. Devlin trusted him to take care of this problem, and he ’ d failed.
Carver took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm. He had the merchandise, but Emmet had slipped through his fingers. This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. He turned and strode back through the station, his mind already racing with plans to track Emmet down.
After retrieving the stolen gods, Carver exited the station. He pulled out his phone and dialed Devlin. The call connected.
“Did you get it?” Devlin asked.
“Yeah, but Emmet got away,” Carver replied, his jaw clenched. “I’ll find him, though. He won’t get far.”
There was a brief pause before Devlin’s tone turned sharper. “And the girl? Lucy, wasn’t it? Is she going to be a problem?” Devlin asked.
Carver’s mind immediately flashed back to Lucy. He’d been wondering all day if it had been wise or stupid of him to let her leave, trusting her to keep her mouth shut. Her frightened eyes, the way she had hesitated at the door before running back to her apartment, played over and over in his mind.
“It’s taken care of,” Carver lied, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside him. “She won’t talk.”
Funny. This was the first time he’d lied to Devlin, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell the truth. He needed time, and he needed to believe Lucy would stay true to her promise.
Devlin fell silent on the other end. “ Make sure of it,” Devlin said finally, his voice cold and final. “Loose ends are unacceptable, Carver. You know that.”
“I know,” Carver replied, and before Devlin could say more, he hung up and slipped his phone back into his pocket.
Carver reached his car and got in, gripping the steering wheel tightly. The hunt for Emmet was back on, but now there was more at stake. He had to ensure Lucy’s safety and silence while proving to Devlin that he hadn’t lost his edge.
As he drove through the city, his mind raced with plans to track Emmet down. Emmet wouldn’t get far—Carver knew his habits, his hideouts. But as determined as he was to deal with Emmet, the image of Lucy’s beautiful and terrified face lingered in his mind. What am I going to do with you?
****
Carver eventually returned to his apartment, exhausted and frustrated. All he wanted was to take a bath, wash the stink of the streets off him, eat dinner, and maybe work out a little to clear his mind.
The hunt for Emmet had been fruitless, and his thoughts kept straying back to Lucy, making it impossible to focus. He stripped off his clothes and stepped into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the grime and tension of the day.
As the steam enveloped him, he closed his eyes and tried to push away the conflicting emotions that had been plaguing him. When he finally emerged, feeling slightly more human, he wrapped a towel around his waist and headed into the kitchen, his mind already on dinner. Just as he reached for the refrigerator door, a knock echoed through the apartment. Carver froze, his annoyance flaring. Devlin or one of his cronies, stopping by to check on him perhaps? The thought irritated him, but he nonetheless went to the door, prepared to deal with whatever intrusion awaited.
He checked the peephole and felt his heart skip a beat. Lucy stood there, awkwardly holding a casserole dish. Carver was stumped. Some part of him had expected her to cut him loose, to run. It was what any logical person would do. He didn’t expect her to linger, let alone turn up at his doorstep again with another delicious food offering.
He opened the door, his expression a mix of surprise and confusion. “Lucy,” he said.
She gave him a tentative smile, her cheeks flushed. “I thought you might be hungry,” she said.
He stepped aside, allowing her to enter. “Come in,” he told her.
As she walked past him, Carver couldn’t help but notice the way her presence filled the room, making it feel warmer, more alive. She set the casserole dish on the counter and turned to face him, her eyes darting around the apartment before finally settling on him.
“I hope you like lasagna,” she said, her voice a bit shaky.
“I do,” he replied, his voice softening. “Thank you.”
They stood there for a moment, the silence between them charged with unspoken words and unresolved tension. Carver’s mind raced as he tried to make sense of her presence.
“Why did you come back?” he asked, unable to keep the curiosity and concern out of his voice.
Lucy took a deep breath, her eyes meeting his with a mixture of determination and vulnerability.
“I … I wanted to understand you better. And maybe … I couldn’t stay away,” she admitted.
Carver’s heart pounded in his chest as he took a step closer to her. “You know what I am, Lucy. You know what I do,” he said.
She nodded, her gaze unwavering. “I know. But I also know there’s more to you than that. I saw it in your eyes, in the way you tried to protect me when those robbers broke into my apartment,” she said.
He reached out, gently cupping her cheek with his hand, his thumb brushing over her soft skin.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, though his heart screamed the opposite.
“Maybe not,” she replied, leaning into his touch. “But I am.”
The distance between them disappeared as he pulled her into his arms, their bodies fitting together as if they were made for each other.
He kissed her then, softly at first, testing, tasting. But the tenderness quickly gave way to a deeper, more desperate need, the kiss growing hungrier, more intense. Her hands slid up his chest, fingers tracing the hard lines of his muscles, igniting a fire within him that he couldn’t control.
Carver broke the kiss, his breath ragged as he looked into her eyes. “Lucy, you have no idea what you’re getting into,” he said.
Why was he trying to convince her this was a bad idea when he should be doing the opposite?
“Maybe I do,” she whispered. “And maybe I want it anyway.”
He kissed her again, unable to resist the pull between them. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of them. As he deepened the kiss, Carver knew this moment would change everything.
He couldn’t let her go now, not after feeling her in his arms, not after tasting the sweetness of her lips and body. For Lucy, he would become a different kind of monster—one who could love.