Page 50 of Filthy Little Games

“He didn’t come home last night, so his father got worried. A traffic cop found his car in the eighty-eighth block of Queens with no sign of him or any foul play. His phone went dead at the same location. Nobody’s seen him. Detectives are checking area cameras for a lead, but so far, nothing’s come up on them.”

“So, then what the hell do you think happened to him?” Creed asks, playing up the lie that we don’t already know where the asshole is currently decomposing. “Do you think him going missing might be connected to the raid that killed Carmine?”

“Nah, I don’t think it’s connected. You didn’t hear this from me, but the rumors at the station are that he was a big-time H-addict. Most likely it was either a drug deal gone bad or the Sannas grabbed him for dealing in their neighborhood without their permission.”

“Wow. Okay. Thanks for the info. Give me a call if you hear anything else, okay?”

“You got it,” the man says before the call disconnects.

“So, you have officers in the NYPD working for you?” I ask Creed.

“Not just any officers. That was the Commissioner. He swore he had no idea what SWAT was doing that night. The two in command are dead, not by me, and the rest are pointing fingers at each other, saying they were just following orders.”

“Well, hopefully he’s right, and Emilio blames this on a drug dealer or the Queens’ don.”

“I’ll find out soon enough.”

Creed spends all his spare time in his office until he has to leave while I hang out in the living room flipping television channels.

I don’t see him again until he comes through to answer the door, letting in Lorenzo, Dre, and Tristan. All three are dressed in various fitted suits, complete with colorful pocket handkerchiefs. I notice Creed has changed too.

“She’s still here?” Dre asks as soon as he steps into the living room. “Without any clothes?”

“Do you want me to put your face through that glass coffee table?” Creed asks.

“I just meant that I’m surprised you still have company.”

I guess that means Creed hasn’t told his cousins we’re married.Slipping my left hand with the rings underneath my leg, I wave to the men with my right. “Good to see you all again too.”

While they’re all staring at me, Creed quickly twists off his ring and slips it into his pants pocket. I don’t know why, but seeing him hide away the symbol of our odd little marriage is like a punch to the gut.

When Creed walks toward me, I get to my feet and give him a hug.

“What was that for?” he asks.

“For luck?”

“Fuck,” he grumbles, lowering his eyes from my face to my chest visible in his jacket. “What am I going to do with you?”

“I don’t know. What are you going to do with me?”

He reaches out and rubs his thumb across my bottom lip to part them, making me fairly certain of what he’s thinking about doing to me. And I sort of hate myself for looking forward to the day he lowers me to my knees.

“Why is it so hard to leave you behind?” he asks.

“Because you don’t trust me?” I whisper so only he can hear.

“We both know it’s more than that.”

I do know it’s more than a little trust issue. He wants me.

Creed is a handsome, powerful man who could have anyone he wanted, and he wantsme. More than just wanting me, he made me his wife.

And the look in his dark eyes...it feels like he’s obsessed with me.

I love that. Nobody has ever looked at me so intensely. Ever.

Creed’s mouth covers mine without warning, his kiss urgent and demanding, with no restraint as if he forgot or doesn’t care that there are other people in the room with us. When I moan into his mouth, Creed pulls away, his lips lowering to my neck. “Wait for me out in the hallway,” he says to his friends.

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