Page 85 of Crave
The foyer around me swayed.
ANGEL…
ANGEL, PLEASE!
NOOO!
BOOM!
My pulse stuttered.
My mouth went dry.
“Do you want to tell them?” Lincoln’s mouth quirked as the clash of plates came from the kitchen. “Or me?”
No.
The image of that study came rushing back. Blood dripped from the bookcase and the wet warmth that was on my cheek cooled.
“So much blood.” Lincoln murmured again, that tight curl at the corner of his mouth curling higher.
I forced myself to move, stepping backwards…before I turned around and ran.
Chapter Twenty-Two
SILAS
I openedmy eyes and stared at the ceiling. That beaded drop of blood on her cheek still burning neon fucking bright in my mind.
Sleep wasn’t comforting tonight. It was hard and cruel, like a mistress who’s touch left me wanting. Wanting and yet unable to have a goddamn thing.
Get the fuck off her!
Gabe’s screams rang in my head as I shoved upwards and climbed out of bed, padding across the room to grab my cell and squinted at the time five a.m. “Jesus Christ.”
But I didn’t drop my phone back down. Instead I glanced at the unanswered messages from Sloane. He still hadn’t responded, and he’d never not responded. One more look at my frantic messages and I looked over my shoulder to the mess of a bed. Sleep was gone with no hope of returning.
I was tired of waiting. Tired of being at the fucking whims of my father’s brother and now my own employee. There was only one thing for it. I was going out to find him.
I strode into the shower, flicked on the light and hit the tap, starting the spray. Thoughts of our sister pushed into my head. I scrubbed, then rinsed, hitting the lever once again before I stepped out and grabbed a towel. The knife was too far. I knew that…and still some part of me didn’t care that I hurt her.
Because the truth justified the means.
I stopped drying. But did it?
The answer was an empty void of nothingness that gave me no peace. I tossed the towel to the floor and strode out into my room, pulling on black jeans and a t-shirt before I grabbed my boots and my jacket.
By the time I walked out of the house, the sky was brightening along the horizon. I hit the button opening the garage and walked the Ducati out before I climbed on and pulled my helmet low. Everything fell away when I started the engine and pushed off, idling the sleek machine along the side of the house until I hit the street and accelerated.
I’d never been to Sloane’s house. But as with all our employees it was a requirement to list their name and addresses and personal information in our database. My father always had trust issues, I guess now it was with good reason.
The GPS on the phone led me not far from where the offices were in the city. I slowed the bike, pulling in around the early commuters and pulled outside a darkened two-storey brownstone. My cell said it was the right address, but there was no car parked in the driveway.
I climbed off the bike and pulled my helmet free, running a hand through the still damp strands of my hair. One glance along the street on each side and I climbed free and headed for the frontdoor. There were no lights on inside. No hint of anyone from the frosted glass panel of the door, which led me to skirt along the side against the fence to peer into the window.
The place was empty as in not a thing inside.
No furniture.
