“I can’t promise that. I’ll hurt you?—“
“You already did. And I came harder than I ever have in my life.” I lean down to whisper, “Promise me, Smith. Or I’ll do exactly what you want…and walk away forever.”
My voice is strong—chin out, shoulders back—but I’m terrified.
Do I really want to stay with the man who trapped me, tortured me, bled me…and enjoyed every second? The man who admitted he’d killed someone he loved, and thought it merciful?
There’s a part of me that knows this isn’t normal. That when he opens the door for me, I should run through it, not slam it shut and dead bolt myself inside.
This is just my brain’s way of coping with all the shit I’ve been through. Shithe’sput me through.
But there’s another part of me. A deeper, hidden part that awoke when he first touched me. And that part knows that this choice is real.
That it’s mine.
If that means I’m fucked up, then I’d rather be a fucked up mess with him at my side.
His hands tighten on my thighs, his whole body trembling. I straighten, hovering above him as I toy with my clit, as he watches, as he shivers under me and gazes up with his tortured eyes.
“Stay,” he mutters angrily. “Please fucking stay.”
“Why?” I know I shouldn’t be pushing him, but maybe I’m a little sadistic too, because God how I enjoy the flicker of pain in his eyes.
“I—I need you, Zoey.”
“And…?”
He licks his lips, and for once, keeps his eyes locked on mine.
“I love you.”
“See? That wasn’t so hard,” I murmur as I lower myself onto his warm, hungry mouth. “Now be a good monster and make me come.”
Smith
SIX MONTHS LATER
The security footage loops for the third time. A dark SUV pulls to a stop. Then a series of bright flashes as three of my men are gunned down outside a warehouse in broad daylight. A professional hit?—
…clean, quick, merciful…
I pause on the last frame—Aidan slumped against his car, blood pooling beneath him.
Good man. Loyal.
Now dead, because I put a bullet through Elonzo’s throat.
Myles tells me I’m being paranoid. That Bogota’s been targeting us ever since we began encroaching on their territory. That this is just business as usual.
But I know better.
Word is Hernández’s nephew took over Bogota operations in our area. Who’s to say he doesn’t have instructions to pick up where Elonzo left off? Leaving me to play his fucked up game where I have to decide between impossible choices.
Keep Zoey and threaten everything and everyone.
Or send her away, and live the rest of my days in a colorless, tasteless limbo.
Just a short while ago, I wouldn’t even have considered that a choice.