Page 36 of Wicked Deceit
I feel his glare of death before he opens his big mouth.
"Fucking no it's not," he growls through clenched teeth, returning to his previous gesture of strangling the steering wheel until it begs for mercy. Use me, damn it. Not the steering wheel. But he doesn’t listen. His knuckles turn white, and his body is as rigid as a board. "There's so many fucking unknowns. You could open your fucking mouth and get yourself hurt or kidnapped or shoved into a basement. Or whatever… everything could go wrong."
I blanch, my lips popping open. "Well that's just rude automatically assuming I'll mess it up," I grumble, crossing my arms over my chest. Note to self, my boyfriend is extremely rude when he's upset. Or that could possibly be his normal demeanor. Who knows. “But you said he won’t be home, right?” I side-eye him as his features deflate, and guilt slams into him.
“Fuck," he growls with remorse. A deep breath rocks through him, and he once again relaxes. Let’s see how long it lasts for this time. "I tracked my dad downtown at a homeless shelter getting everything ready for the charity Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow. He should be tangled up in his fake charity shit until after eight. We have all fucking day to do our thing," he says, blowing out a breath.
The soothing beat of the turn signal clicks until he pulls onto a long blacktopped driveway surrounded by trees. Their shadows dance along the car as we make our way down the long road, making me wonder where the hell we are. Carter rarely talks about home. Unless it's a comment about how hellish it is or how his step mom is a gold digging whore hiding away here.
Pulling myself from the beautiful scenery, I frown at Carter's rigid posture. Shit. His relaxation didn’t last long at all. A twitch forms in his jaw from his teeth clenching, and all his confidence drains away. It's not reassuring in the slightest that he's this nervous to step foot inside his home. He's supposed to be the confident one in this situation since we're going behind enemy lines and into the monster's den.
"Be confident, Grumpy! You're the one leading us into this," I mutter, shaking my head. My eyes land back out into the forest, and he huffs.
"What did you say?" He grinds out, clamping down on the damn steering wheel again. He's either going to kill it or make it come from the pleasure of his choking. He cocks a brow, looking at me with an unreadable expression.
And shit, I said all of that out loud. Time to change the subject before I really set him off.
“And you’ve checked the cameras and looped them?” I ask, attempting to continue our conversation before I went off the rails into Kaycee land and crashed.
This whole, Kaycee not sleeping very well last night because she tossed and turned without her boyfriends next to her bullshit, is not good for my detective skills. I'm supposed to be bright eyed and bushy tailed, ready for action. Instead, I'm getting stuck in my head and saying the first shit that comes to mind. Speaking of… I peek at Carter who smirks in amusement, trying to hide his laughter.
"Did I say that all out loud again?" I grumble, my cheeks turning pink. His grin grows wider. "Of course I did. Back on track, Grumpy!" I clap my hands, forcing him to put his eyes back on the impossibly long driveway.
Focus, Kace. Get your mind back in the game! Mentally, I go through the steps he pounded into me—and not the sexy way, either—last night over our planning session on video chat. Loop the cameras so his dad won't know we are there—check. Make sure his dad is occupied so he won't find us snooping in his office—check. His father and stepmother, Francesca, are down at the soup kitchen with the state police offering Thanksgiving meals. And according to him, Piper should be gone, too. Doing whatever it is Piper does in her spare time. Hopefully not her damn bio father either. God, gross. I have to stop thinking about the time we spied on them and the nightmares that ensued after their very public displays of grossness.
"Yeah," he says, holding the word out.
"Then we'll be fine," I say with a shrug.
Fine, yeah. We'll be totally fine like that time we walked into Crowe's house, and I got caught. But then I got my revenge and stole his phone. Which, well, damn, I got in trouble for that, too. I mean, it wasn’t really that much of a punishment letting my boyfriends tie me up with silk and have their wicked way with me. A shiver works through me at the thought of both situations—half good—half bad. Crowe was at least as decent as he could be when he caught us. He played it off like the hero, grieving guy he wanted to present. Now, Cushing Cunningham? I have no idea what kind of Hell we’d pay if he caught us snooping in his office. Carter seems to think his father has more in his office than Crowe would, and that’s why this is so important to do.
"Don't fucking jinx us," he mumbles, rubbing a hand down his face. "Well, Sweetheart. Welcome to Hell," Carter grumbles, throwing the SUV into park near the four car garage at the end of the long driveway.
I peek back out the back window, realizing that the main road isn't visible from here. It's nothing but gigantic trees swaying in the cool wind and a long driveway leading to a house of horrors. Or whatever Carter says about this house. Shit. If he was playing me and didn't love me like I know he does, even though he won't say it, he could murder me. Hell. He could bury me in the woods and no one would know. Peeking at Carter, I watch his grinning face, almost like he's finally relaxed with what we're about to do.
"You need more fucking sleep," he gripes playfully. "Come on. Let's get this fucking over with."
"Hell is huge," I say with awe, cocking my head at the sight.
My jaw drops from the money oozing from the ridiculously large structure erected in front of me. It could probably poop one hundred dollar bills out of its gutters and dispense dollar coins from chimneys like waterfalls. I hold back my snort at the imagery running through my mind and lean back to stare up at it. I swear it looks like a tall skyscraper swaying in the wind because of its height. The house—no, scratch that, it's not even a house, it's a damn mansion nestled deep in the woods. Only accessible through a mile-long driveway. It's hidden so well from the road you'd never guess this was here. Perfect place for a psycho murdering cult leader. I wonder if there's a secret room inside where he stores all his victims?
Growing up, my parents had money. Expensive vacation homes. Cruises. Out of country visits. I've been through them all, and I've seen my fair share of rich buildings. But this is way more than I expected. Especially for a state police detective, whose salary could definitely not afford all this. Pretty damn suspect, if you ask me. Sure he got money from Carter's mom's passing. But this? Jesus. This is made from blood money.
Everything about the house is immaculate. From the large rounded, second-story porch held up by marble pillars, to the massive windows letting the sunshine in, and finally to the beautifully polished wood siding without a speck of dirt. Several gardeners roam around with a variety of tools in their hands, bending at the waist to gather leaves, and prune the bushes. They don't spare us a second glance, opting to continue their work when we step out of the vehicle, slamming the doors loudly behind us.
"I expected more," I murmur jokingly, wrinkling my nose when I stare at the massive home Carter affectionately calls Hell. "Where are the fountains dripping in gold? Where are the statues and diamond door knobs?" Am I exaggerating? Yes. But it's not like I haven't seen it before at the twins' mansion. Now that was a ridiculous mansion.
Carter snorts. "We aren't the fucking West family, Vixen. This is fucking Hell with marble floors and elegant fucking ballrooms." Disdain glazes over his eyes, and his lip curls, showing off his pearly whites as he stares at the house in question.
"Well, you could jazz it up a little. It looks sad and neglected," I say with sarcasm, snorting when he clutches my waist, pulling my body back against his.
"Keep up the sass, Vixen," His hot breath blows in my ear as his fingers slowly move south. A loud yelp escapes my throat when his hot fingers grab tightly to my ass cheek, sinking hard into my flesh. "And I'll show you what happens to sassy girlfriends. I have a million and one ideas."
There's a pussy-clenching threat lining his words, and I'm not complaining. And neither is my hussy of a vagina, desperate for him to make good on those lovely threats. It's been too long since he's fucked me speechless, but that's his own damn fault. Leaning back, I rest my head on his shoulder and boop his nose. His eyes pop wide when he stares down at me and squeezes my ass harder, snarling at me. Carter likes to think he's scary or something, but I've got news for him. I laugh, booping him again, and pull away from his embrace.
"Oh, I will. Now, let's do the damn thing." I look back at him over my shoulder, and he rolls his eyes toward the sky, grumbling to himself about how weird I am. Or something along those lines.
"Be fucking good," he mumbles in my ear when he catches up to me and swats my ass. I shriek when my body falls forward, stumbling over my wobbly legs, narrowly missing kissing the ground. I huff, righting myself ready to tear him apart, but I'm greeted by his fine retreating ass. Hate to see them go, but I love to watch them leave.
