Present
Lochlan
I’m sitting in my office, looking over a stack of ideas for potential drugs that my research analysts have put together for me, when I hear my cell phone buzzing on my desk. I pick it up and to see who’s calling me.
Congressman Dawes. Shit. This can’t be good. I sigh outwardly before answering.
“Dawes, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I’m on my way to your house. There’s something that we need to discuss. Something that I am deeply upset by.”
Fuck.
“What’s it about?” I question. I’m not playing dumb. I have no idea what he’s talking about.
“I’ll see you in five minutes.” Click.
* * *
Five minutes later, on the dot, I hear the buzz from the security gate. I click the button on my intercom.
“Yeah.”
“Master Finch,” Louis starts with his thick English accent. “I have Master Dawes here to see you.”
“Send him through.”
I pick up my desk phone and press “7” to reach Norah.
“Yes, Mr. Finch?”
“There is a man coming to the door, please wait outside on the front steps to greet him. Then, bring him straight back to my office. Don’t forget your manners,” I bark.
“Yes, s—” I hang up on her before she has a chance to finish.
Within minutes I hear a knock on my office door. I should do the right thing and get up to answer the door, but I refuse. I didn’t earn the respect I have today by sucking up and throwing myself at people’s feet.
“Come in,” I command in an even tone.
Norah opens the door and stands to the side to let Dawes through. She starts to announce him just as he walks over the threshold and slams the door in her face.
I can feel the anger and disrespect written all over my face. I don’t care about Norah’s feelings, but if anyone is going to be a dick to my staff, it’s going to be me.
I stand as Dawes walks over to my desk and I hold my hand out in greeting. My greeting is not returned.
“Dawes, always wonderful to see you,” I say sarcastically as he and I both take our seats across my desk from one another. This has always been the way our relationship has gone. Each of us is sarcastic and uncaring as the other.
The only reason we ever talk is because of business. There has never been any pleasantries between him and I. Just the way I like it.
“As in times past, Finch, this is not a social visit. I’m going to get right to the point.” He removes a manila envelope from beneath his jacket and slides it over the desk for me to see.
It’s a series of pictures from the gala. Lana is in all of them. There is one photo of her standing next to me at the podium, her fake smile plastered on her face. Fooling everyone in the crowd. There are only a handful of people who were in that room who weren’t fooled by her beautiful lips, curved into a smile.
Her eyes are glistening in the mist from the tears threatening to form. She is incredibly unhappy. I did that to her. She used to make me want to be a better person. Now, she brings out the evil in me every time I look at her.
I flip to the next picture. That’s when I see it. That’s when I see him. Lurking in the shadows of the room. My blood begins to simmer. How did I miss him?
“What time were these taken?”
“Just before 10 pm.”
Right after I was called away due to the emergency at the lab. Son of a bitch. I obviously know that he planned the attack for the night of the gala, but I completely blanked on the fact that he did it so he could go unnoticed at the event.
I flip to the next set of pictures. I see Lana walking through the banquet hall. His eyes never leaving her. Watching her every move, like a hawk.
I’m starting to shake with anger. Where the fuck is Skylar? He should have been by her side the entire time. But Trent could have used any opportunity to take her. Why didn’t he make contact?
I look through more pictures. I find my answer as to why Skylar wasn’t on her.
There is a picture of him talking with a leggy blonde with a hell of a pair of assets. The next picture, the blonde is cupping him over the pants of his tuxedo. The next is a picture of her pulling him into the kitchen area and away from Lana.
Just when I think I can’t get any more furious, the next set of pictures play out in front of me like a horror film. Lana noticing Trent. Trent backing her up into the shadows. I see his feet and the bottom half of his legs, but that’s where the shadow takes over.
Lana getting away from him. Good girl. Trent reaching out and grabbing her upper arm to keep her from going anywhere. Lana looking at him with anger on her face; or is it fear?
The two of them talking. Lana turning and walking away again. Trent catching her by the hand. The soft touch of his hand on hers. The painful look on her face as she stares out into the crowd. Her turning to look at him. Him with a pleading expression on his face. Him leading her out onto the dance floor.
At this point my blood is boiling. There are four more pictures left. I look at each of them carefully. The first, a picture of Lana with an almost trusting look on her face. Bordering the line of caring. Definitely not terror, as I would expect.
The second, a picture of Trent looking directly into the camera of whoever is taking the pictures. His face smug. It’s not glaringly obvious, but I know it’s there. It’s as if he knows I’m going to be seeing these pictures and he’s happy about it.
The third, a picture of Trent holding Lana’s hand and kissing the back of it lovingly and respectfully.
The last, the look of heartache in Lana’s eyes as she watches Trent leave. A lone tear streaming down her face.
I look up at Dawes, angry to the point of seeing red.
“Who’s the photographer?”
“That’s not important. What is important, however,” he’s seething as he talks through his teeth, “is the fact that Trent was able to breach all points of security and get to her. How the fuck could you let this happen?”
“FUCK!” I shout. “There was an explosion at the lab that night too. Trent was responsible. He left a package behind in one of the black areas. I was so focused on that, it didn’t cross my mind that he would show up at the gala. There was a ton of security there too. Why didn’t the cameras catch him?”
“Obviously if he’s smart enough to make it into the black area of your lab, he is smart enough to override generic security cameras.” I sit there staring at him, dumbfounded. “What was in the package?”
I think back to two nights ago when I got to the lab and saw the package.
When we made it up to the Black Project floor, we were greeted by one of Rhodes’ men.
“Sir,” he greets me.
“You found the box?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“Yes, sir.”
“And you haven’t opened it.” It wasn’t a question.
“No, sir. Rhodes had it checked to make sure it didn’t contain another explosive device. Once it was deemed non-threatening, we left it for you to open.”
“Everyone leave me.”
When I was all alone, I walk over to the table where the shoebox sized package sits. I stare at it for a while. I stare at her name on the label and my chest tightens slightly. I stare at his name on the return label and start to feel like my body is choking itself with anger.
I have no idea what could be inside. I want to tear it open and I want to burn it to ash all at the same time. I stand there for a while before reaching out and picking it up. I tear away at the tape until the top flaps of the box open slightly. Something inside glistens when the light hits it.
I open the box the rest of the way and am hit with an overwhelming feeling of sadness. Inside is a mix-tape that I made for her years ago. A bracelet that I gave her for her 16th birthday. An old ratty t-shirt of mine that she would wear to bed all the time. She used to make me spray it with my cologne so she could smell me
while she slept. She always said, “That way, when I can’t sleep in your arms, I can still have your scent wrapped around me, keeping me safe through the night.” The little stuffed tiger that I won for her at the county fair one year. A strip of pictures from the photo booth at the Jersey Shore from the trip that we took with her family in ’98.
The sight of it all nearly cripples me. It takes me a good half an hour to close the box, get my shit together, and pretend that my past didn’t just creep up on me and turn the walls that I’ve spent years building to dust.
“Nothing important,” was all I could say.
“Lock, I didn’t think that I would need to remind you how important what we are doing is.”
“You don’t,” I answer, more than annoyed. “You think that I’m screwing around? That I don’t know that we can’t afford to fuck up?”
“But you are fucking up. At. Every. Turn. The biggest fuck up being when you were unsuccessful at killing Trent. The last thing we need is for him to figure out a way to take us down. I may have underestimated him in the past, but he’s proven to be a lot smarter than I ever thought.”
“I told you, I thought he was dead. I checked for a pulse and didn’t find one. I didn’t have that much time to stick around because Lana wouldn’t stop fighting me.
“Which brings me to my next point. This girl has done nothing but slow you down and cloud your vision. She is an anchor that was never part of our plan and I have no issue severing that chain if necessary,” he threatens.
“How dare you come into my house and threaten my wife.”
“Your wife should have died next to her real husband like we planned. Besides, she’s only yours because you took her. She would never be with you willingly. Fix this situation immediately and get Trent out of our lives for good. Otherwise, my associates and I may start to believe that you’re the one who needs to go.
* * *
After Dawes leaves, I get Skylar on the phone. When he picks up, I don’t give him the option of saying anything.
“I want you in my office in the next sixty seconds.” I hang up before he gets the chance to respond.
A minute later he’s knocking at my door.
“Come in,” I command, my tone giving nothing away to the aggravation I am feeling.
Just as he steps through the doorway, I fire the gun, hitting him in his right thigh.
“WHAT THE FUCK?!” he screams as he crumples to the floor.
“I should be asking you the same thing.”
He’s on the floor, keeping pressure on his wound to try and stop the blood flow. I hear the sound of boots barreling down the hallway just before Carter and Reese fly over the threshold, guns drawn. Once they have a moment to take in the scene, they look up at me, confused.
“Leave us.” I raise my gun to them and they don’t hesitate.
I slither my way toward Skylar, my gun still raised. He is sweaty and pale with shock. Blood is streaming through his fingers from the bullet hole in his thigh.
He is struggling to remove his belt with one hand, presumably to use as a tourniquet. When I reach him, I step down on the bullet wound with my foot, making him howl in pain.
“Why the fuck did you not keep your eyes on Lana at the gala?”
“I did, boss! I had eyes on her the whole time!”
I press my foot down, harder. His eyes squeeze shut in pain as a howl escapes from his lips.
“Skylar, Skylar… I thought we were closer than that. If you’re lying to me about this, I wonder what else you’ve lied to me about. I’m going to give you one more chance to tell me why you thought it would be ok to find yourself in the company of a slut, rather than keep an eye on my most prized possession.”
“There were over a hundred people there. She wasn’t going to try anything.”
“She may not have, but Trent did.”
A shadow of fear crosses his face.
“Trent couldn’t have been there, he carried out the attack on the lab.”
“If there is one thing you should have learned over the past three years, it’s that you can never underestimate Marshall Trent!” I shout, shooting him in the other leg.
I didn’t think that he could cry out any louder than he did after the first shot. I was wrong.
“Dawes was just here. He shared some interesting news with me and he had pictures to back it up. Pictures of you, being seduced by some slut. These were taken just before grabbing a few pictures of Lana, in the arms of Trent on the dance floor.”
His face goes from pale white to sickly green at the mention of this.
“I had no idea he was there. I swear!” he cried.
“Of course you didn’t. You weren’t able to keep your dick in your pants long enough to pay attention to anything that was happening at the banquet that night. Instead of doing the one and only job I was expecting you to do, you were lured away by some second rate, two bit hooker who trades low-quality sexual favors for minimal profit.”
“I knew it wasn’t going to take long to get off. I thought she would have been fine for a few minutes! When I came back, she was sitting at the table again after using the bathroom, which was where she was when I left.”
“You know Skylar, for such a massive hard-ass, you sure are blubbering like a fool right now. Looks like Reese will be getting a promotion sooner than expected.”
He screams in terror and throws his hands up to block his face as I aim my gun at the skin just between his eyes. He’s too slow. A loud bang is followed by satisfying silence once I pull the trigger for the third time.
Skylar’s body slumps over onto the hardwood floor as I walk back over to my desk. I pick up my phone and dial Norah, again, telling her to bring a clean-up kit into my office. She knows the drill.
I exit my office and head to Lana’s room. I’m still splattered with Skylar’s blood, but I’m not going to get cleaned up yet. I want her terrified as much as possible in order to help drive my point home.
Wanting to take her by sadistic surprise, I knock on the door when I arrive at her room. It takes her a moment to answer. When she does, her facial features quickly turn from disinterest to terror.
August 2014
Adrienne
Walking through the apartment that Marshall and I bought together after we were married will never get old. This is my happy place. This is the home that we’ve begun to build together. The interior decorator that we hired did an amazing job tying both of our styles together so that they intertwine flawlessly.
There is an elevator that opens into a generously sized foyer. The gray marble floors match the light, eucalyptus colored paint on the walls. There is a long hallway that takes you from the foyer to the grand, open-concept floorplan. From this end of the hallway, you can see the living space directly in front of you. There is a chef’s kitchen to the left and Marshall and I share a large office to the right.
The living space is furnished with an oversized, black leather sectional, which sits at an angle in front of the two story, stone fireplace. Our television is hung on the fireplace above the mantle and there is a set of charcoal gray club chairs, one on each side of the hearth.
I continue through the living room to the set of floating stairs leading up to the second floor. Just as I make it to the first step, I hear Marshall call me from the office.
“There you are, beautiful. How was your day?” he asks.
I turn and see him rounding his desk walking out of the office toward the stairs.
“Hey, handsome. It was busy, but really, really good. Yours?” I am still standing on the first step as he reaches me. I am almost as tall as he is when I’m up here.
He places his hands on my waist and pulls me in for a kiss. I wrap my arms around his neck and tilt my lips up to meet his. His hands move back so he has one ass cheek in each hand and he squeezes.
“It was terrible,” he answers.
“I’m sorry, do you want to talk about it? Anything I can help with?”
�
��No, unfortunately it’s classified. But thanks for asking.” He says as he puckers up for another kiss.
“Okay, I understand. What would you like me to make for dinner?”
“Let’s skip dinner and go straight to dessert,” he says, his lips still touching mine. “I want you so bad.”
“Oh, you do?”
“Mmm-hmm. So. Bad.” His lips start kissing their way down my neck as his hands move to the buttons on my blouse.
“How bad?” I pant, as red-hot heat travels from my core throughout the rest of my body.
I work on unbuttoning his shirt before moving my hand down his chest and over his stomach. I don’t stop until I reach his rock-hard erection.
“Oh, my. We seem to have quite a situation here,” I reply with a sly smile on my face. “I think I know how to fix it.”
“Adrienne…” he barely gets my name out as my hand squeezes him gently.
I move to his belt and remove it. Next, I make easy work of the button on his pants. I stare deep into his gaze as I lick my bottom lip before sucking the button into my mouth.
I shoot him a wink before slowly sinking down in front of him.
When my knees meet the floor, I look up at him with hooded eyes. I stick my tongue out and the tip of it touches his zipper. I close my eyes, as I take the zipper between my teeth to pull it down.
My hands slide up his legs, over his hips and land on the hard surface of his abs.
“Jesus, Adrienne, you’re killing me.”
His breathing is shallow and he can barely get the words out.
I giggle a little as I open my eyes back up. He has not broken his stare. His eyes are fixated on me and it makes me feel like the most beautiful person in the entire world. The way he looks at me, like I am the only person in the world, like he would die without me, like there is no one else in this world made for him, makes my insides burn and my panties wet.
Stolen Love (The Wildheart Duet Book 1) Page 10
