Page 22 of Dmitri

And I’m coming back every fucking night until I find what I’m looking for.

What other choice do I have? The Monarch Club requires a membership, and I can’t afford one, so that’s not an option. Besides, I don’t even know the name of the fighter or if he’s a member or employee there. And I’m not about to bang on the door of that ritzy place because I’m too paranoid that I’m being followed, and I can’t let Kaleb know I withheld any information from him about this guy. There’s no way I could explain showing up at a random fancy sex club for no reason. He'd see right through that lie and knock my teeth out.

Constantly vigilant, I scan the street over and over while making my way back to the bus stop. I’m tired, hungry, and fed up.

Addie’s spending the night at her friend’s house tonight, which is the only good thing that’s happened today. Work wasexhausting. I’m flat broke, thanks to all the bills that came in through the week, and I’m sexually frustrated beyond belief.

Headlights shine from behind me, and my paranoia kicks into third gear. I’m sure it’s one of Kaleb’s cronies tailing me. Holding my head high, I don’t dare look back to check. The bus stop is just up ahead, and by the time I reach it, the bus is already pulling over.

The ride home takes forever.

My eyes are burning when I finally make it to my destination. Cars pass by every so often, but I’m not nearly as scared in my neighborhood as I am in others. The streetlights keep things illuminated well, and there are two women jogging on the other side of the road together.

Shoving my key in, I unlock my front door, step inside, and take in a deep breath. Safe at home, I can finally let my guard down again.

Tonight was another bust, but I’m not giving up until I find that guy. I can’t. Kaleb doesn’t make empty threats and there’s no way I’ll risk his wrath. Not when I’m so close to getting out of his circle of Hell.

“There is no getting out,”the darkness in my mind whispers.

I tell it to shut up.

Kaleb doesn’t lie. What he says, he means. He promised I’d be out after this mission, so I have to believe it’s the truth. If it’s not, I’ll die… either mentally, spiritually, or physically. Likely all three, knowing how thorough Kaleb is.

In the dark, I slip upstairs, and stop at Addie’s bedroom. Pushing her door open, I inhale the scent of her perfume and remind myself why I’m doing all of this. Her room’s a mess. I love it. To me, it shows that she’s comfortable and safe. Before she came to live with me, Addie stayed with a foster mom who had severe OCDs and was a neat freak to the nth degree. Onesock out of order, or a shirt not hung up correctly in the closet, and she’d beat your ass for it, and the dad was just as strict.

I’m so glad Addie’s away from that foster family, but I’ve dragged her into another bad situation. One she doesn’t even realize she’s in the middle of.

My stomach drops as I close her door and head to my bedroom down the hall.

Clicking on the light at my bedside table, I sit down and kick off my shoes. Too tired to cry, too numb to care, I strip out of my clothes and set my alarm for work in the morning. Five a.m. is going to come way too fast, especially considering it’s already two.

What was I thinking, hunting down a stranger in the middle of the night? I must be insane.

Dragging my sorry ass into the bathroom, I wash my face, brush my teeth, and stare at my reflection for a long time. I barely recognize myself anymore. The dark circles under my eyes make me look like a drugged racoon. I haven’t washed my hair in four days and it’s so greasy that not even a messy bun can help it anymore.

You know what? Enough is enough.

I start the shower and hook my phone up to my little speaker so I can blast screamy music while I reset my life—starting with a shampoo, shave, and sugar scrub. By the time I’m done, I feel worlds better. Now to snag a couple hours of sleep before work.

Sauntering back into my bedroom naked, terror clutches my throat when I see I’m not alone.

It’s him.

Sitting on my bed is the man I fucked two weeks ago. Only he looks completely different from that night. No more busted, swollen face and blood dripping everywhere. In fact, this guy doesn’t look anything like the man I slept with in the warehouse.That one looked dangerous.

This one looks devastatingly dangerous.

The night we fucked, I didn’t get a good look at him, considering one of his eyes was completely swollen shut, and the other was close to the same condition. Not to mention the poor lighting in the room and the fact that I’d shut my mind down and went into autopilot for most of it.

This guy—the way he’s built, the grace with which he moves, the breadth of his shoulders, the clothes, the energy he exudes—he’s the perfect villain for any story.

No wonder I’m attracted to him.

He remains sitting on my bed with his hands clasped and elbows resting on his knees. “What do you want?” he asks in a gruff tone.

My mouth runs dry. I’ve been searching for him for two weeks with no success and he’s found me instead. This should bring me some semblance of relief, but it doesn’t. “How did you get into my house?”

He looks up at me with eyes that are the palest ice blue I’ve ever seen. They almost look silver. “Answer my question first.”

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