Page 15 of Shattered Souls
“Ah, fuck,” I curse when I stub my toe on the step before lifting my foot to cradle in my hands.
“Will you shut the fuck up,” Royce hisses, glowering at me over his shoulder from halfway up the stairs.
Still holding my foot, I roll my eyes. “It’s not like anyone’s home.”
“With the way you’re banging around the place, the fucking neighbors will be able to hear you and call the police.”
I let loose yet another eye roll because,seriously?“Their closest neighbors are a mile down the road.”
“Exactly.”
When he turns his back on me to continue up the stairs, I flip him the middle finger before following him to the second-floor landing.
Despite having never been in Bertram’s new house, he seems to know where he’s going as he turns right at the top of the stairs, making a beeline for a set of double doors that open into the primary suite.
From what little I’ve seen so far, you wouldn’t think Bertram moved into it less than a week ago. For real, it looks as thoughhe’s lived here for years. Books line the bookshelves, and there are paintings on the walls and rugs covering the hardwood.
I wonder if he had everything put in storage when he was incarcerated or if he bought entirely new shit that some poor soul has had to find a home for.
“What are we looking for again?” I ask as we enter the main suite that he shares with Lydia.
“I don’t know. Anything that might lead us to whom she sold Aurora to,” Royce answers, moving straight for the nearest bedside table before yanking open the drawers. “She’d already packed up all her shit by the time I went to hers, so if there’s anything to find, it’ll be here.”
“Surely she wouldn’t be stupid enough to bring proof of her crimes here?” Despite my uncertainty, I move to the other side of the bed to investigate. We’ve done much speculation over the last few days as towhyLydia would choose now to get rid of Aurora, and the only thing that makes sense is because of Bertram. The timing is too perfect to be coincidental.
Lydia is seriously insecure and jealous. She’s envious of the attention her owndaughterreceived from Bertram—oblivious to how sick and inappropriate it was—so it’s only to reason she’d feel the same toward Aurora.
To Lydia, Aurora is a threat—yet another female to compete with for her husband’s attention.
Better to get her out of the picture before Bertram learns of her existence.
Yeah, it’s a completely fucked up way of thinking!
“The last thing Lydia would want is for her husband, whom she’s recently gotten back, to not only find out that Aurora exists but also the rolehis darling wifeplayed in the child’s sudden disappearance. So, I repeat, why would she be stupid enough to bring proof of her crimes into this house?”
“We’ve gotta at least look,” is all Royce says as he rummages through the bedside table.
It’s immediately apparent from the lube and combination of porn and business magazines that I have Bertram’s side of the bed, so after a brief glance—and definitely no touching ‘causeeww—I wander over to the large his-and-hers closet.
I pull open drawers, rifle through clothes, and even peek inside handbags, but whatever the fuck I’m looking for, I don’t find it.
“How do you think Ry and Gray are getting on?” I ask. Every few minutes, my thoughts drift back to her, wondering how she’s holding up at the family dinner from hell. It’s beyond fucked up that she even had to go. I mean, we told her she didn’t, but never one to back down or show weakness, my Shortcake insisted. I know the opportunity to possibly glean some info about Aurora’s whereabouts was too tempting to pass up—even if the chances are slim that Lydia will spill a word about who she sold Aurora to.
At least it allows us to snoop uninterrupted, knowing both Lydia and Bertram will be out of the house for at least an hour. All it took was Dax’s IT guy fiddling with the security system and Royce picking the lock, andvoila, here we are.
“I’m sure they’re having a grand old time catching up over steak and lobster,” Royce drawls from the bedroom.Sarcastic fuckwit.
“You don’t think it was a bad idea, her going? That it’ll be too much for her? She’s already a wreck. What if this pushes her over the edge?” Exiting the closet, I lean against the doorframe as he checks under the bed before turning to face me.
Arms folded across his chest, he stares at a fixed point on the wall, but it’s clear he’s not truly seeing it. “Do I hate the idea of her sitting across the table from that sick fuck? Of course I do. Will it be too much for her? Maybe. I honestly don’t know. ButIdo knowthat our girl is resilient as fuck. I know she’ll endure anything if it means getting her daughter back. And I know that no matter what the fuck happens, she has us. We’ve got her back. We’ll pick up the pieces if she breaks. We’ll wipe her tears when she cries. And when all this is fucking over, we’ll make sure no one can fucking touch her or Aurora again.”
Amen to that.
Out loud, I tease, “Damn, you’re a sappy asshole when you’re in love. Who knew?”
If looks could kill, I’d be six feet under. “Stop wasting time and go check the bathroom.”
Still sporting a shit-eating grin, I push off the doorway and stride to the adjoining bathroom. Flipping on the overhead light, I scan the immaculate white porcelain and marble countertop before crouching to look through the cupboards underneath.
