32. Thirst
Ghost
A month. A whole fucking month of chasing cartel vermin, digging for a weak link high enough in their ranks to matter. Leaving clues subtle enough not to spook him, but clear enough that he’d understand exactly what I was offering. Testing the waters. Waiting.
And the fucker did bite.
Just not with me.
He went straight to Bones.
My asshole brother kept that from me for over a week, until that weak-link fucker came back with intel. Shocking, useful, dangerous fucking intel. It didn’t change the fact that Bones kept his mouth shut. Didn’t change how pissed off I was. Still am.
But at least I had the lunches.
Adora’s hot-and-cold attitude nearly drove me insane, but it didn’t matter. She was talking to me. More than that, she was coming to me. It gave me something to hold on to, a light finally starting to shine in my miserable fucking life.
Leaving killed me, but I didn’t know my plan had already worked. I thought there was still more to do.
And now I’m back, with everything on the verge of blowing the fuck up. There’s no time for lunch tomorrow because I’m not going to be here tomorrow. I just wanted to see her tonight. Just wanted a little more of that light before I had to crawl back into hell.
She was supposed to be home, her bookstore closed two hours ago. But there’s no answer at her door.
I’m about to check her tracker — something I haven’t done in hours because I’ve been on my fucking bike — when a cage pulls in.
And there she is. Smiling that sweet smile, shining that light of hers at some preppy fucker. Dressed like a wet dream that could ruin any man for a lifetime. She looks like she’s coming back from a date.
I see red. Black. All the fucking colors.
“I will paint this entire street with his blood.”
The words rip out of me like the war cry of a wounded animal.
I can’t even look at the asshole. I need to keep my eyes on her. Let her see the truth in them. The torment. The misery.
I’m stuck between throwing a blade straight into the fucker’s heart and dropping to my knees right here in front of her, and beg. Beg her to please not do this. To just give me more time.
“If you move even one fucking step, I will go apeshit on your ass.”
The warning in her voice — and her eyes — is like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head.
I freeze in place, unable to move an inch. I want to kill the guy but I don’t want to upset her. Fuck. She has me on a leash, and she just yanked me into submission.
“Adora, should I call the cops?” There’s a tremble in the asshole’s voice. Good. That tremble better stay there. And he better stay away from her. Far the fuck away.
“No need, Noah.” She smiles and turns to him. “Everything is fine. This is my ex-husband. He’s not dangerous. He’s just being very dramatic right now.”
A pause. Heavy. We can all smell the bullshit in the air.
“You should go now. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
A deep growl rumbles in my chest at her intent to see him again. She stops it with a raised finger. Doesn’t even look at me.
“Are you sure?” he whispers, throwing me a sideways glance.
I barely hold myself back.
“I’m very sure,” she says, voice firm. “Go. Now. I’ll be fine. I promise.”
Then she starts walking toward me, her face shifting into pure fury the second that fucker can’t see it anymore.
“Good night, Noah,” she throws over her shoulder.
He finally listens.
“Inside. Now!” she snaps as she passes me, not sparing me a single glance.
I stay still for a few seconds. Make sure the fucker leaves before I follow her.
The moment I step into the kitchen, I’m hit with the deadliest glare she’s ever given me. And then she attacks.
“I do not appreciate the way you acted out there,” she hisses, eyes spitting fire.
“You went on a fucking date,” I snap back. “And I didn’t do anything. He’s alive, isn’t he?”
One hand plants on her hip. The other slams down on the kitchen island between us.
“I swear, Ghost, if you had touched that man with even one finger, I would’ve turned you into minced meat. And then I would’ve made some nice, plump sausages and fed them to Fang’s dogs!”
My head snaps back. “That’s a nice threat,” I murmur, one brow lifting.
She rolls her eyes. “I learned from the fucking best, didn’t I?”
Her shoulders slump as she exhales. Her eyes close briefly, like she’s begging the universe for patience. Then she looks at me.
“I did not go on a date with him. Noah is a good friend of Griffin and Ria’s. He’s been helping me move shelves at the bookstore. And he is a very, very nice guy.”
Her gaze hardens.
“Are we clear now?”
I only manage a nod. She doesn’t wait for more.
“Good. Now let’s make something else clear. We are not together. You do not have the right to act like a possessive asshole. Even if I had gone on a date — which I am free to do anytime I want — you do not get to threaten and intimidate people out of my life. Not ever again.”
A pause. The glare is back.
“Got it?”
Fuck, she’s beautiful. That unstoppable hurricane inside her, the one she’s been forced to keep small her entire life, is raging now. Too bad it’s aimed straight at me. At least there are no chairs flying at my head this time. That means it’s controlled, which is good news for my health.
I can’t win this argument. The more I push back, the more she’ll pull away. And I definitely don’t want that.
“I got it,” I say after a long pause. “And I’m sorry. You’re right. I acted like an asshole.”
A breath.
“But—”
Her eyes burn with silent warning.
“If you want help moving stuff at the bookstore, there’s an entire MC at your disposal.”
She smiles sweetly, head tilting. “I know. Domino was part of the helping team.”
“How nice,” I mutter. Even I hear the snark.
Why the fuck wasn’t that asshole the one who drove her home? Probably wouldn’t have stopped my reaction, but it would’ve landed better. I’ll have to buy her a cage to make sure she never needs another ride from some other fucker.
“Take a seat,” she says coolly, gesturing to a stool before turning toward the fridge.
This feels familiar. A modern, sleek kitchen. Us on opposite sides of the island, tension rising. I don’t like it.
I still sit.
She slides a bottle of the 0% beer I usually drink across the counter.
I open my mouth, then shut it fast. That look in her eyes is a challenge. Say one word about how she stocked up on my favorite beer, and I’m fucked. So I keep quiet, twist the cap, and drink. No questions asked.
“Doesn’t taste the same,” I murmur, turning the bottle to read the label. Then I push it back toward her.
She’s still standing there, watching me. Looking like she’s trying to decide what the hell to do with me — throw me out of her home or fuck me raw.
“Will you do your thing?” I ask quietly. “Give it your special flavour?”
Surprise flashes across her face. Then denial rushes in.
“Please.”
That’s when she deflates. Her bottom lip juts out, just a little. But it’s enough to make my heart slam and my cock twitch.
“You knew,” she groans. “Of course you knew.”
She takes the bottle, throwing me a narrowed look, and swiftly spits inside. Just like she used to when she thought I couldn’t see.
Fuck, I’m about to combust. I swear, if I wasn’t wearing jeans, my cock would drill a hole through this kitchen island, straight to her.
I have to breathe. Deep. Slow. Or I’m going to lose my goddamn mind.
“Wipe that look off your face,” she snaps, pushing the bottle back. There’s no fire behind her bite though, just a hint of amusement. “How long have you known? And why didn’t you say something?”
“Why would I,” I murmur, taking a long drag, “when all you ever did was make it better?”
Damn, that’s good. I’ve missed it all this fucking time.
“You deserved it,” she mutters. “You spit in my mouth in the dungeon.”
“I’d let you spit in my mouth too,” I smirk. The image of her doing just that makes my cock twitch again.
Her lips part. Shocked. Then she shakes her head with a huff.
“Why are you here, Ghost?” she changes the subject, taking a sip of her own beer. “It’s dinnertime. You belong in the lunchtime slot.”
I sigh and lean forward, elbows on the counter, turning the bottle between my hands.
“By the time sunrise comes, I’ll be gone again. I just had to come back and deal with some club business tonight.”
Worry flickers in her eyes.
My voice drops to a whisper. “This is the last trip. In two days, it’ll be over. I just wanted to see you before I leave.”
She looks at me for a few seconds, jaw trembling. I can almost hear her teeth rattling, like her body is turning to ice.
Eventually, she moves. Drags a chair closer and drops into it like the weight of the world is on her shoulders.
“That sounds like you’re not coming back.” Her voice is flat. Empty. She’s pretending, but I see beneath it.
I force a smile. “That is nowhere in the plan, adorable.”
It might not be, but the truth is, the plan is fucked, and anything can go wrong. I’m betting on the word and help of a cartel traitor. But I don’t say that part. She doesn’t need it.
She blinks rapidly, silent tears spilling out of nowhere.
That spurs me into motion. I stand, round the island, crouch in front of her, and gently turn her toward me, wiping her cheeks.
“It’ll be fine, Adora,” I say, keeping my voice calm.
She lifts her arm and threads her fingers through my hair. Fuck. I almost break. I’ve missed her soft touch so much. I’ve missed everything.
“I need you alive more than I want them dead,” she rasps. “You can’t die. You’re not allowed to die. Not at the hands of the people who made our lives hell.”
She swallows, wets her lips, and steadies herself.
“Verdugos are strong. And there’s an army of them.” Her gaze hardens. “Do you have an army, Ghost?”
“I have several fucking armies, adorable,” I grin, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
That seems to bring her some peace.
There’s so much more I want to say to her, but I don’t get that chance. Just a few seconds later, my phone rings.