Page 25 of Seizing Control: Part Two

Speechless with disbelief, I check the rest of them.

Wads of cash are stuffed in the pockets of every duffle bag.

“This’s fuckin’ millions of dollars.”

“Yep.” Silver grimaces, then he lifts his chin in the direction of the trafficking victims. “There’s a lotta money in the skin trade.”

As appalled as I remain at the idea of selling flesh for profit, I’m also morbidly fascinated by the wealth it generates. This haul is higher than I expected. It’s more than enough to begin the process of restoring the Mayberry siblings stolen trust funds. There’s plenty to go around. Multiple problems it can fix. I put it through our businesses. Clean it up. Pay the appropriate taxes, then use my talents to grow it exponentially.

Despite the suffering that produced this windfall, I am grateful. The riches intercepted brings me one step closer to heading home with proof of my commitment to ensuring my wife’s independence. It’s my path to tangible evidence. The creation of a proper token on my devotion. Better than a bracelet charm. More meaningful than the words she no longer believes. I can present my duchess with a fully restored trust fund that’s been set up to secure her lifelong financial freedom... and freshly drawn-up divorce papers setting her free to choose me of her own volition.

As reckless as this course of action may seem, I’m up for the challenge.

But I’d be lying if I said the fear of unintended consequences didn’t keep me up at night...

5

LILY

A week later

The squeal that erupts from my lips when I discover the rose charm in my bathroom is loud enough to disturb Garrett. From my bedroom, he lets out a cry, then he falls silent. I move to the doorway to make sure he’s gone back to sleep. Once I’m certain he doesn’t need me, I hurry back to the vanity with my heart pounding in my ears because I’m half-expecting Zeke’s gift to be gone.

It isn’t.

I stare at the charm, kind of mistrusting what I’m seeing after a week of not receiving anything from him. It’s half the reason why I’m up so much earlier than my son for once. After hours of tossing and turning, and a small window of deeper sleep, during which I was tormented by a strange dream that kept turning into a nightmare.

In technicolour vision, complete with smell and touch, I found myself constantly edged. Pushed to pinnacle of pleasure with feather-light caresses. Overwhelmed by the voice that crooned sweet nothings in my ear. Enveloped by the familiar scent of my first love. Calloused hands continuously brought me to the cusp of coming, but never allowed me to fully climax.

I couldn’t move.

Couldn’t breathe properly.

Couldn’t lift my heavy eyelids.

Although, I know it’s my fault for giving in to Nadia’s admonishments to take something to help me sleep and seeking assistance from Doc. What can I say, after a week of catnaps, I was desperate. Unlike the heavy sedatives that I took while I was denying Zeke’s death, this was a mainly natural product that is suitable for pregnant women. Unfortunately, it had the same effect as the pharmaceutical products, trapping me in my torturous dream slash nightmare.

I couldn’t fully wake up.

Especially when a small part of my subconsciousness kept promising that it was real.

Denial isn’t cute, but damned if I wouldn’t live in it if given the chance.

For twenty-six days, I’ve been praying for Zeke to return. He’s left the golden pipe, a phoenix to match the one that hangs from my new necklace nine days ago, and now the rose. That makes three times he’s managed to break into my second-floor bathroom without being caught since I discovered that he’s alive.

It’s enough to drive a woman insane.

“Just in case you’ve bugged my place,” I say as loudly as I dare in the early morning hush. “I expect you to show your face soon, Ezekiel Miles. This cat and mouse game is wearing thin.”

Foolishness floods me the moment the words have left my mouth.

My face heats, and I roll my eyes at my own stupidity.

As if Zeke has the resources to magically tap my private spaces. He’s more than likely working with one of the Shamrocks to sneak the charms into my bathroom during the day or something equally as annoying. My inkling that Slash has known from the beginning that Zeke is alive could be extended to Cub, Meeyal, the old timers, maybe even Hunter. They’ve been steadily rotating between Perth and the east coast, seemingly on my husband’s whim.

The only person exempt from my suspicion is Toker.

My cousin is too much of a straight arrow to hide something like this from me.

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