Page 4 of Wicked Pursuit

Is it any wonder I went seeking sin just to be able to breathe? Except that’s not fair. It’s not Luke’s fault that I’m a shitty, cheating girlfriend. The blame lies solely with me.

“Hey, Ruby.” He holds out a hand, and maybe it’s the alcohol making me foolish, but I’m crossing to him and taking his hand before I realize I really shouldn’t.

I jerk back. “Sorry. The bar was so damn crowded, and I’m covered in perfume and cologne. Let me take a shower and we can chat.”

“I was just going to bed. I was reading and lost track of time.” He rises easily and brushes a kiss over my lips. “Glad you got home safe.”

“Me too.” I don’t know what the fuck I’m saying. I stand there, numb, and watch him walk into our bedroom.

It’s only when I set my purse on the counter that I remember the weird messages. Luke and I don’t go through each other’s phones, but there’s no reason to leave out clear evidence that I was up to no good. My stomach drops when I click on my phone and see the series of texts.

Unknown

You can ignore me, but do you think HE will?

Unknown

I’m feeling generous after the show you gave me, so I’ll give you until three to respond before I send that photo to the boyfriend.

Unknown

Clock’s ticking, Red. And I’m not a patient man.

I glance at the clock. Five minutes until three. I should ignore it. There’s no reason to engage with this weird-as-fuck interaction. He called me Red, just like the guy at the bar. Maybe it was one ofhisfriends who somehow got my phone to get my number... Except that doesn’t make sense. My purse was right next to me the entire time. It’s more likely that whoever this is, they were close enough to hear the guy call me Red.

I bite my bottom lip. It’s hard to think through the film of drunkenness making me feel loose and reckless. “Fuck it,” I mutter. I type a reply.

Pretty pathetic to get your jollies watching other people fuck. Get lost, loser.

Unknown

Baby, you keep talking to me like that and I’ll wash your mouth out with soap.

I blink. “This motherfucker is out of his goddamn mind. Does he think I’mflirtingwith him?” Now’s the time to walk away. Put down my phone and call... Well, not my mom. Not Dad either. They’ll ask too many questions. Da may, too, but he’d at least take care of the creep first.

Except I don’t.

This game is over. If you know who I am, then you know who my parents are. My fathers will bury you somewhere no one will find you.

A pause, long enough that I let out a sigh of relief.

Then my phone buzzes.

Unknown

Daddies’ little girl, huh? Do they know you’ve been haunting mafia bars and rubbing your pussy all over the trash that hangs out there?

The blood rushes to my head. Or out of my head. I can’t tell if I’m furious or terrified.

Who the fuck are you?

Unknown

Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to be a good girl and send me a picture of those perfect tits. In return, I won’t tell your boyfriend that you’ve been a dirty little slut behind his back.

I stare at the text, my mouth hanging open. “Theaudacityof this motherfucker.” My nails click against the screen as I type too hard.

June, two years ago. If you’re good enough to get my number, you’re good enough to find that picture.

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