Page 34 of Vengeful King

But there’s one near the top, from a number that isn’t added to her phone book. I open it and the second I see the words, I know what it is.

There’s a time and a place. She’s obviously working for someone.

But who?

Fuck.This is the last goddamn thing I need to be dealing with.

There’s nothing notable about the images on her phone background or lock screen. They’re generic, defaults or random pictures she’s taken. Flowers. There aren’t many apps on her phone, just banking and email. This isn’t the phone of someone who has free time or friends.

No games, no food delivery services—it’s like she doesn’t live in the world. Like she’s just getting by in a small sphere, between home and work. Even her old texts to her friends are strangely impersonal. Maybe the relationships were dying for some time before they finally ended.

Or maybe she stopped pretending for her last cover job. Maybe she moved on to me, and she was getting ready to make new friends. New ways to hide.

I don’t know any more after looking through her phone. I shove it into my back pocket, annoyed, and turn back to Katrina.

What the hell am I going to do with her?

There are too many possibilities, and I still don’t know how or why she came to kill me. I open a drawer in my desk and pull out zip ties, then bind her hands behind her back. She might not wake up any time soon, but I’m not taking a chance.

I pull out my own phone next and place a quick call to one of the men in our employ.

“I need the back of the club clear,” I say as soon as he answers. “No one in or out. Bring the car around, and cut the cameras.”

“Yes, sir.”

I wait a minute for my security team to do what I need, then throw Katrina over my shoulder. It’s easy to carry her; she’s not heavy, shorter than me. I take her out of my office and make my way to the back door.

I never stop rolling the security cameras. I don’t want anyone to get a chance to do something stupid. But this, I don’t want anyone seeing.

Not even my brothers.

My car is waiting. I open the back door and drop Katrina inside, laying her out on the leather seat.

When I get in the driver’s seat, I take a moment to think. There are places I could take her, but I run the risk of being found out. Our safe houses are for everyone in the family. Any of our runners could come by at any moment, taking refuge from a police tail or anything else.

No. I need privacy, and I can’t let her out of my sight. I still don’t know who she works for. I can’t take the chance that she might lead them somewhere else. At least if it’s my home, I’ll know I can defend myself.

I pull away from the club and start driving.

It’s not far. I need time to think.

As I drive, I can’t help glancing in the rearview. Even passed out, she’s gorgeous. Just one look at her makes my cock twitch, memories flooding back.

She was as turned on as I was, before everything went to shit. I’ve fucked enough prostitutes in the past months to know she wasn’t faking it. If she was, she’s the best goddamn faker in the world.

Katrina wanted me. I saw it in the way her body reacted to me. She flushed, nipples hard, cheeks pink. She leaned into me, her breathing shallow. I can still feel her lips on mine. She washungry.

It was like she hadn’t ever been touched. Like I was the first man to make her want, to make her lust. It was a fucking ego boost, to be sure. And it was hot. It felt like I was the first person to touch her in years. Like she was parched, waiting in the desert for a drop of water.

I was ready to fuck her on the desk. Even if my office wasn’t soundproof, I would have done it. I didn’t care. My thoughts weren’t on the future or the danger. All I was thinking about was how supple her body was in my hands, how good she’d feel when I got my cock inside her.

With her legs around me, I was ready to shove her dress up and fuck her hard. I wanted to make her scream. I wanted her to feel better than she’d ever felt before. It was like a challenge—one I was happy to accept.

But now, I’m just frustrated and confused. And pissed as fuck.

I pull up to my house and take Katrina out of the car and inside. After striding down a hallway, I tug the basement door open and take the stairs slowly with Katrina on my shoulder.

I have a room in the basement where I have the equipment to tie someone up. I don’t use it often; as a rule, I try not to bring my dirty work home. There’s a time and place for that.

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