Page 9 of Desperate Crimes
Stupidly, blissfully alone.
She never sees me coming.
I move like a shadow—silent, sure, ready—and press the needle to her soft skin, my other hand covering her mouth before she can let out so much as a whimper.
Two breaths.
That’s all it takes for the sedative to kick in.
I catch her before she hits the ground. Gather her up in my arms like the precious fucking treasure she is.
Then, I slide her into the passenger seat of my SUV, her head resting against the pillow I placed there hours ago, just in case.
Because I hoped.
Because I knew.
I leave her keys tucked just beneath her front tire and send one quick text to one of my most trusted men, who will know what to do.
Her car will vanish without a trace. Just like she did.
By the time anyone notices she’s gone, I’ll be halfway to the estate I built for her.
Now she’s in my car.
Unconscious.
Breathing softly.
Head lolled to the side like a sleeping beauty caught in a dream.
My Princess.
Keyword is, of course, mine.
My hands are steady, but my heart is pounding.
I lick my lips, and glance at her just for a second.
I can’t stare long because I’m driving. And I’m always careful when I drive. But even more so now because she’s here with me.
Finally.
I should feel guilty, maybe.
Shame. Fear.
But I don’t.
I feel nothing but calm. Well, and some excitement.
This was inevitable.
Like a force of nature.
Nothing and no one could have stopped it.
And really, they never should’ve let her out of their sight.
