Page 10 of How May I Please You

“The arresting officer got a few bumps and bruises from the scuffle they had before we joined in. Detective Summers got a little messy, too, but I’m sure he’ll be in the office tomorrow being annoying like he always is. Overall, everyone was fine, including the perp who was still able to walk when it was all said and done. I’m fine, Sir. No need to worry.”

“Are you sure?” I ask, my concern slowly contorting into anger. Someone put these marks on my property, and if that person ever steps into the sunlight again, I will be there to knock them into permanent darkness.

“I’m sure,” Journey assures me, finally turning to face me. She shifts her body completely until we’re chest to chest and places a bruised hand on my cheek. “I know what you're thinking, and you don't have to. It has been handled. The guy is behind bars and it’s over. No need to dwell on it or make any plans to visit anyone’s house in the middle of the night. It’s over, Sir, and I’m fine. I don't want to upset you, so just let this one go. Okay?”

No, it’s not fucking okay. Someone deserves to die for this. Violently. Gruesomely. Painfully. Slowly.

Thoughts of running down an unknown man with my truck as he exits the precinct play in my mind like a daydream.

After I run him over, I’ll tie his feet to the back of my truck and drive down the fucking highway with my foot stomping the gas, until there is nothing left but bits and pieces.

I want to lash out. I want to go fucking hunting, but to appease Journey, I do as she asks and let it go.

“Okay, Little One,” I say, grinding my teeth.

“Thank you,” she says before pulling me into a kiss. “Now let’s get some rest and hope that I don't have to put my hands on anybody tomorrow.”

I smile when she does because my love has somehow become a mirror. When she smiles, I smile. When she hurts, I hurt. When she hates someone, I want them dead. The love we share has us connected emotionally, and while it’s completely new to me, I’m obsessed with it.

She is every dark and disturbed thing I never knew I always wanted, and when we lay down, I wrap my arm around her and pull her close to me. Even though the drama of her day has already happened, I feel better knowing I’m shielding her with my body and protecting her now. I can’t be with her twenty-four-seven, and I know she can handle herself, but the next time I hear that someone has put their hands on her, the strongest bars in the world won’t be able to protect them from me.

chapter

eight

“Good morning, Little One.”

“Good morning, Sir,” Journey replies as she steps into the kitchen with her nose in the air, making a show out of sniffing while wearing a cute little grin on her face. “Something smells good in here.”

“I made you breakfast,” I say at the exact moment that I spin around and show her the plate of food in my hand containing bacon, eggs, avocado toast, and hashbrown.

“Aww, Evan you didn't have to,” she tells me, but I can see the gratitude etched in her face.

“Right, but I wanted to. You made me so proud last night. I just wanted to do a little something for you. No big deal. Come on, it’s already getting late so let’s hurry up and eat before we have to go.”

Journey finishes the final buttons on her shirt before leaning in to kiss me and taking the plate. As she goes into the dining area to sit down, I grab my plate and two cups of orange juice for us and follow her lead.

We eat without saying much. Admittedly, my mind is on how fucking perfect last night was. Memories of how incredible Journey looked with her ass in the air and her handcuffs chained to her butt plug pop in and out of my mind in vivid, graphic detail, and I can barely think of anything else. After work tonight, I wouldn't mind seeing what other boundaries I can push her to.

By the time I’m almost finished scarfing down my food, I find myself glancing at her hands as she lifts the fork to her mouth. Her arms are covered by the sleeves of her shirt, but I can still see the scratches and bruises on both of her hands. My body warms with the thought of what she must have gone through to get those marks on her and it makes me furious. I don't let it show on my face, but I have half a mind to make a call to the precinct and get info on the guy she arrested last night. I wonder if he’s getting out on bail. If so, when? I told Journey I would let it go, but that’s the last thing I want to do. I don't want to let go. I want to grab on tight enough to cut off the oxygen to his brain for what he did to my Journey.

How easy it would be to bury another body beside Sierra.

As much as it pains me, I push my boiling hot anger down into my stomach as we finish eating and start to get up from the table. I take both plates to the kitchen so that Journey doesn't have to lift a finger, and wash them off followed by the cups. I place everything in the dishwasher and start a pot of coffee we can both pour from before we head out, and just as the coffee finishes brewing, my phone rings in my pocket.

I frown at my screen as I see Trey’s name written across it, because I’m about to be on my way to the job site and I’ll actually show up ten or fifteen minutes early rather than late. So why would he be calling me right before we go in?

I place the phone on speaker and set it down on the counter so I can pour Journey’s coffee for her before pouring my own. I grab her travel mug just before I say, “Hey, what’s up, Trey? Not used to hearing from you this early. You calling in sick?”

Trey chuckles, and even from just that short sound I can tell something is wrong.

“I wish I was calling in sick, but something just came up that has me confused,” he says, his voice quickly turning serious.

“Yeah? What’s up?” I ask as I hand Journey her travel mug and grab mine.

“Umm … how did things go yesterday with the new girl?” Trey asks.

I shrug even though he can’t see me. “It was fine, I guess. Nothing spectacular and nothing detrimental to the crew. Why?”

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