Chapter 31
I raise my left hand to my chest to feel for my pistol tucked securely in my chest holster. My right hand slips under my suit jacket to feel for the one in my waistband holster. My pistols.
Check.
My eyes land on the small black hard-shell case sitting in the trunk of my RS7. The case holds everything I need for an enjoyable little game of torture.
Check.
After another week of holding out, tonight is the long-awaited payoff. I informed Mr. Williams a few days ago that the job was done, and he has since invited me to a party to celebrate both Evelyn’s supposed death and the expansion of his sketchy company. I can”t wait to kill that bastard. My fingers itch with excitement. When we spoke on the phone, he kept calling my Dove a dirty whore, a nasty piece of meat who deserved to die. No one is allowed to talk about her like that. At that moment, I could have jumped in my car, driven to his office, and put a bullet in his skull. But I didn’t. I kept my cool and waited for the right moment.
The sound of high heels clicking against the polished wooden floor of the house snaps me out of my thoughts, and I spin around. My eyes widen at the sight of her, looking down at me from the top of the landing that leads down three steps into the garage attached to the house. Looking her up and down, my breath catches in my throat, and my heart skips a beat when I realize she”s wearing the white dress I sent her when I was still determined to kill her. I hadn”t noticed that she had packed it when we went to her apartment.
The soft white satin falls over her smooth skin, hugging her curves beautifully. Highlighting my absolute favorite part of her body, her hips and round ass. Her hair is styled in beautiful big waves. The makeup on her face is flawless, complimenting all of her beautiful features. And that deep red lipstick. Oh, how I”d love to see her lips wrapped around my cock painted that color. I swallow the lump in my throat and try to ignore the blood rushing down between my legs. Clearing my throat, I straighten my suit jacket before walking over to her and holding out my hand to help her down the stairs.
”Thank you,” she says and takes my hand to walk down the three steps.
”You look beautiful, my Dove.” I lift her hand to my mouth and place a soft kiss on her knuckles. Even after all these weeks, having her by my side still feels like a fever dream. I fear the morning when I wake up and she”s no longer there. If that day ever comes, I can”t imagine what kind of person I will turn into. I will wreak havoc and kill anyone who tries to keep me from her until I have her back. Of that, I’m certain.
”Like one of your birds?” She smiles and steps closer, leaning into me, and reaches for my tie, straightening the slightly loose knot. I wrap my arms around her waist, cupping her ass in my hands, and lean down to kiss her beautiful red lips.
”You are the most beautiful little bird. No one could ever outshine you,” I whisper against her lips, and I can feel the smile on hers against mine. I squeeze her ass cheeks and press her closer against me. Shoving my half-hard cock against her stomach.
I groan in annoyance when she pushes me back, putting distance between us. ”Keep it in your pants,” she says, pulling a moan out of me when she cups me in her hand through my pants, squeezing my cock. ”We have things to do.”
”Of course.” I grab her hand that is still holding me through my pants and lead her to the passenger side of the car, open the door for her, and hold her hand as she slides into the seat. I shut the door behind her and turn around, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
I have to think of something to make my hard -on go down.
Dead people.
No.
The thrill of killing is something that excites me.
Naked old men.
Yes.
This not only kills any remaining arousal, but also fuels my anticipation of killing the old pig who doesn”t know he”s about to die. I walk around the rear of the car and slam the trunk shut before making my way to the driver”s side and climbing into my seat.
Game on.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see her leg moving, bouncing up and down. The sound of her heel tapping against the carpet in the footwell in a steady and fast rhythm giving away her nervousness.
I keep my focus on the road ahead. It is already night, and the only lights that brighten the highway are the street lamps, headlights, and taillights of the cars. I take my right hand off the steering wheel and slip it through the slit of her dress, squeezing her thigh ”Dove, relax.”
”It”s only been a year, but I”m nervous,” she says and puts her hand on mine, picking at one of my more prominent scars at the back of my hand. It”s a little habit she”s picked up over the weeks. Instead of picking at her cuticles like many people do when they feel uncomfortable, she is drawn to my scars. I let her. It doesn”t bother me at all. On the contrary, she touches me of her own accord, and I take it. If I can be the one to comfort her in such a simple way, I”m happy to do it.
”I”m with you. Everything will go as planned,” I say, hoping to sound reassuring. I push my fingers between her legs, caressing the smooth skin of her inner thighs. ”Do you trust me?”
She remains silent and squeezes my hand between her legs. ”I don”t know,” she finally says.
I sigh. ”Have I done anything in the last month to make you think you can”t trust me?”
”Kept me hostage?”
”Do you really want to argue about that? Now of all times?”
”I don”t want to argue, but it”s a fact.”
”You’ve been enjoying our time together a little too much for holding this against me now.” She remains silent. She knows I”m right. I”m not stupid. I”ve noticed all the little changes in the last few weeks, the way she looks at me with affection instead of hatred. She laughs at my jokes, even though I’m not one bit funny. She scoots closer at night, hugging me, thinking I’m already asleep. She initiates not only conversations now, but also physical intimacy.
”That has nothing to do with it.” She breaks the silence and protests. ”Yes, I have come to enjoy the time we spend together, but that doesn”t change the fact that you kidnapped me and are holding me hostage.”
”I didn”t kidnap you. You got into my car of your own free will.”
”I–” She starts her sentence, but stops herself.
”Are we having this argument because you really don”t trust me or because you want to distract yourself from your anxiety about what”s to come? You know why I didn”t let you go. If I had, you would be dead by now, and I don’t want that. So, let’s try again, and I’ll rephrase my question. Have I done anything to make you think you can’t trust me since I brought you into my home?”
”No. You treat me with kindness and with respect.”
”That”s what I wanted to hear.” I give her thigh another soft squeeze. ”Now, do you trust me?”
”I do,” she says, and I turn my hand and intertwine my fingers with hers, bringing her hand to my mouth and planting a soft kiss against the thin skin.
”Good. I promise you nothing will happen to you. You will be safe at all times tonight. You are mine, and I will never let anyone hurt you, except for me.”
”You would never hurt me,” she says with a quiet chuckle, guiding my hand back to her lap.
She’s right, I would never do anything to seriously hurt her. I will be damned if I do. I would never be able to forgive myself if I dared to break her in any way that would cause any lasting effects.
”Not without your consent, at least.” I flash her a grin, and even through her makeup, I can see the subtle color spreading across her cheeks.
”You are insufferable.” She rolls her eyes and gives my arm a nudge.
”Yet you enjoy my company.”
”I do,” she says, looking down at her lap.
I squeeze her hand tight and take my eyes off the road the moment we stop at a red light. I turn to face her, cup her chin with my free hand, and pull her over the center console to kiss her. A soft moan escapes her throat, and a smile spreads across my face.
She will be the death of me one day.
But not tonight.