Page 38 of Veiled Vengeance

“I need you to feel it all, Baby Girl. Feel how much I want you and will never stop wanting you. Your ass. Your cunt. Yourmouth. They were made for us. Made to take our cum. Now take it, Baby. Take every drop.”

And when that sensation building inside me bursts, I scream. I scream for mercy. I scream for a god I don’t believe in. I scream for my men.

Rio and Asher come with me. Their cocks pulsing and twitching inside me. When we all come back to earth, we collapse into one sweaty, sticky pile, and I pass out.

CHAPTER 15

ASHER

The ding of the elevator causes me to look up and into the bullpen of the fifth floor of the FBI building. There are a lot of people here, considering it’s the weekend.

Kowalski looks up from the file in his hands and nonchalantly closes it, placing it under his keyboard. “Hey, Dawson! I wasn’t expecting you to come in today. Are you ready to debrief?”

My eyes catch the word “Euphoria” on the front of the file as I take a seat at my desk across from his. “Sure. Berkowitz coming in today?”

Kowalski leans back and sets his feet on his desk, ankles crossed. “He’s downstairs getting coffee. Want me to call him and ask to get you a cup?”

“I’m good, thanks,” I voice, shaking my head. “What have I missed?”

His eyes dart around the room. “Not much. The APB is still out on Anthony Cole, but it’s like the guy is a ghost. His home in Texas has been empty for a while—PD found sheets covering all the furniture like he’s a damn royal or something. The lastrecord we have of him is when he flew as a passenger on a private plane to Teterboro.”

The elevator dings again, and Berkowitz saunters in with two coffees. “Dawson! You’re here.”

“I was getting bored sitting around the house.” It’s not exactly true, but it’s not false either. I wouldn’t mind being at Spencer’s, where I can make her moan my name all day long.

“Dawson is here to give his statement,” Kowalski informs.

Berkowitz shifts his weight from foot to foot and pulls his chair away from his desk to sit next to Kowalski. “Awesome. Well, we can take care of that for you.” He and Kowalski both pull out their notepads and prepare to write down what I say.

“Tell us what happened first,” Kowalski instructs.

Sitting back, I recount details of that night. “I was circulating the room when I saw Ms. Gray slip into the studio next door. I followed her to get her to come back to the event.”

Berkowitz scoffs. “You just let her walk away when you knew that psycho was after her? Why didn’t you stay by her side? Security one-oh-one.”

My eyes narrow. “You’re one to talk about security.”

He leans forward and grits his teeth. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

I stay relaxed in my chair, ignoring his question and continue. “Before we could return, Anthony Cole showed up with five men and quickly surrounded us. I stepped in front of Ms. Gray to shield her from Cole. That pissed him off, and he shot me.” I gesture to my shoulder—still in the damn sling. “Then Cole’s men carried Ms. Gray and me into a van in the back alley and drove away.

Kowalski is studiously taking notes while Berkowitz eyes me with a furrowed brow and tight jawline.

“What happened next?” Kowalski questions, oblivious to the tension in the room.

“We were taken to a warehouse up north where we were beaten and tortured for information.” I aim my next words at Berkowitz. “While Cole was beating me senseless, he let slip that he thought Ms. Gray had stolen something from him when she ran away a few years ago.”

Kowalski looks up from his notepad. “Were you able to find out what it was?”

“A list.”

Berkowitz pales.

Kowalski squints as his brows drop low. “A list of what?”

Leering at Berkowitz, I answer. “Clients.”

“What kind of clients?”

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