Chapter 8 | Preston #2
I stand and retract my knife from his stomach, listening to his pitiful grunts before smearing his blood across my pants. I’ll just buy another suit.
As I always do when carnage soils it.
You’d think I’d be running after her, considering the state she found me torturing this man who doesn’t deserve to be labeled a victim.
For some reason, behind the irritation clouding my vision, the thought of hunting her down through the maze of concrete sends an odd thrill that bolts through my body like a drug.
Darkness thrums in my veins.
I point a crimson finger at Rowan. “When I get back, you’d better tell me what I want to know, or this knife will find your heart.
Or your throat. Or the back of your skull.
I haven’t quite decided how I want to end you yet.
It all comes down to your cooperation.” If you don’t bleed out before then.
I straighten my suit jacket and huff out an irritated groan before marching across the room in only a few strides. One of the perks of being massive, from years of torturing my body in the gym and my 6’4 frame, is that I cover more ground taking normal steps.
When I reach the metal door, I open it and step into the hallway, slamming it behind me, hoping the sound reverberating off the walls sparks an extra sense of terrified urgency in her steps.
Reaching into my suit pants pocket, I take out my phone and click on Brody’s contact, our head of security for the Megalley Syndicate.
We pride ourselves on keeping our operations locked and impenetrable, but with a fucking huge empire and the amount of security systems we have, things are bound to slip through our fingers.
Pretty, curious things.
Doesn’t happen often, but when it does, it’s solved by a metal chain and a permanent vacation to the bottom of the ocean—perks of being on the coast. Most people are terrified of the monsters that lurk beneath the surface, but they forget that more dangerous ones breathe the same air.
I place the phone against my ear. As always, it rings once before he responds in greeting with a firm, “Boss.”
“I’m in the West Wing. Someone slipped through our fingers. I need a location—now.”
The unmistakable rapid clicking of a keyboard is heard over his voice. “Rowan?”
I wish. That would be easier to handle than this clusterfuck I’m about to find myself in.
The spark of exhilaration that punches me in the gut surprises me. I don’t let it show. “More like a rat.”
“Am I supposed to know what that means—” His following, “Oh shit,” tells me he’s found what I’m looking for. He chuckles. “She’s headed for the South Wing.”
I start moving, hustling through the hallway. My pace can’t be described as a run or a walk. Somewhere in between because I can’t ignore the flash of anticipation in my chest, knowing that this might be the most exciting chase I’ve had.
“Stay on the line. Let me know when I’m getting close. She’s in the uniform overalls for the haunted mine ride. Can you get a good enough read on her face to—”
As if he were reading my thoughts, he says, “Her name is Kate Hannaford.”
Kate.
Her name ricochets, penetrating so deeply that the other details fade to the background when he says, “Age twenty-four. We employed her four months ago.” He hums low in his throat. “Apparently, we pay her paycheck in cash. Odd request for a pretty thing like her.”
The hairs on my neck gravitate toward the cement ceiling. The gears rotating in my head screech to a halt, nearly bringing me to a complete stop. “Did you say four months?”
“Yep.” A few clicks in the background indicate that he is switching between views. “Take a right and then a left.” I do as he says, and it's not long before the soft patter of footsteps echoes through the concrete maze. “If you take another right and then a left, she’ll run into you.”
“Put it on my reminders to bring this up at our next security briefing. We can’t have shit like this happening. And I want any information you can pull up about this girl.”
That stops him short. He knows it's his job, and I can practically feel the rush of air escaping him in panic, slipping through the phone. “But this never happens.”
“Then what would you call this fucking situation?” I grit out, damn well knowing he’s right.
And it just so happens to be the same girl I scolded about finding herself in places she shouldn’t be while I tried to divert my attention from the swells of her breasts that almost evaporated the warning on my tongue.
Her pink mouth drew my focus next, as I contemplated how much more color I could inject into her lips while they stretched to fit my cock.
Jesus Christ.
This is the exact distraction I can’t afford. Doesn’t matter if I’ve been sex deprived for years and my dick is craving something warmer than my hand.
Just like that day I saw her, suspicion blooms behind my ribs. This time, it’s piercing—a bell knocking on the inside of my skull and ringing like an alarm. It didn’t happen just once, when a shipment came in with missing contraband. Somehow, she also found herself in the walls of our empire.
Bad little rat.
“And under no circumstances,” my tone harsh with no room for argument, “does Arden hear about this.”
Brody releases a grunt of understanding. I take another turn, and he says, “She’s headed your way.” With that, the phone goes dead, and I tuck it back in my pocket.
My fingers tighten around the handle of the knife. My skin buzzes, my blood alight with fervor as I close in on Kate, as if I’m an eagle ready to snatch the scampering rodent with my talons.
The corner of this hallway, dimly lit by sconces, is just ahead. The patter of frantic footsteps swells, every sharp tap of her shoes ricocheting through the hallway and the pulse in my neck like a pinball machine.
When her small body sprints around the corner and crashes into mine, I fight the smile that wants to appear at the way my body mass knocks her backward. When she glances up at me, Kate’s eyes are blazing with fear. Looking at her now, knowing her name feels dangerous. It does something to my chest.
This is why they say not to name an animal, or you’ll get attached to it.
Can’t have that happening.
“I should’ve believed them,” she whimpers. “ I-I only have one kidney,” Kate stammers, breathlessly. She moves backward on instinct. I don’t waste any time closing the distance. “And my heart, it has that weird thing where it murmurs, so it's not perfect, and I’m sure you don’t want it.”
The fuck.
Tears drop from her bottom lashes onto her pigmented cheeks. While I’m trying to piece together her rambling that’s confusing the ever-loving shit out of me, she keeps talking, my attention locking on those flush, rosy lips she can’t stop licking from the nervousness that is overtaking her.
Her bottom lip quivers, and I have this odd inclination to stop it with my teeth. “I know kidneys are valuable, and you’d make more money out of someone who has all the organs you need. Please don’t take mine,” she hiccups, placing her sleeve over that distracting mouth.
What the fuck is she talking about?
She wraps her arms around her waist, as if it will give her some comfort. Unfortunately, I don’t think anything can bring her comfort for what I’m about to put her through.
My mouth parts to ease the thoughts running rampant in her head about her organs, but I think better of it. Maybe it's better if she’s petrified. I need her to talk. To find out why she was on the dock that day when the shipment arrived, and how the hell she ended up in the tunnels.
My eyes are lethal, locking onto her green ones—green like the leaves that climb the stone walls in the garden, accented by the magenta flowers my mother once loved.
So many emotions flash across her face that she finally registers my state—my bloody, gruesome state.
She slaps a hand over her mouth, her breath breaking into a wheeze as every drop of color drains from her skin.
“Oh my God. Whose blood is that? Who’s that man?”
I reach out and snag her forearm, her warmth seeping into my cold fingers. “For now, be happy it isn’t yours—and it won’t be if you obey me.”
She sucks in an audible breath, and my lips twitch before I bite back the sadistic grin threatening to surface.
I’m amused by the flash of terror that graces those big green eyes as she stares down at my stained hands that are on her. Touching her. The hands of an unsympathetic man, dragging her to a room where her night is about to get a whole lot worse.