Page 32 of Unlocked

“Come pick me up. I’ll send you the address.”

“I knew you would change your mind.”

“Whatever,” I say as I hang up.

I look down at my phone to see a new notification on it. Pulling up my messages, I find one from an unknown number.

Hello, Little Devil. It seems you are a hard person to get in touch with. Let me make this easy for you. You will give me the information I need or I will inform Bolt Corporation that not only have they hired a fraud, they also have employed someone who was actively known in the underground.

I grit my teeth together as I read the message before responding.

Who the fuck is this and what do you want?

Three dots appear quickly before another text message.

You can start with following Jamison. I want to know where he disappears to every Wednesday evening. I also require something else. I’ll text you for that later. Don’t openyour mouth, Little Devil. What would your boss have to say if he found out just how deep you used to be? Would any of them want you close to their wives or girlfriends, knowing the danger you could put them in?

Rage pours through my body. I don’t like being threatened or blackmailed. God knows how long I’ve had to deal with Jamison. But with him, it just hits differently. Maybe it's the attraction between us that’s always been there? Or, I don’t know, the way I have always been pretty sure he wasn’t ever going to spill my secrets. I could be wrong of course, but either way, this feels different. This feels worse, more dangerous, and suddenly I’m scared. I’m scared for my friends and the guys. Scared that the life I was trying to escape has come back for me, and this time when it crumbles to the ground, it’s going to drag me all the way down with it. My fingers move of their own accord as I type out my response quickly.

Understood.

The anonymous texter’s response comes through so quickly this time, I would swear he already had it typed and ready to send.

That's the good Little Devil, I’ve heard all about. I’ll be in touch.

My teeth grit together and I slam my phone on the diner table as Jamison strolls in.

“What is going on?” he asks me questioningly.

“Nothing,” I grit out as I slide out of the booth and past him, walking towards the doors. “Just take me home.”

He doesn’t respond. I’m sure he can tell I’m in no mood tonight. Instead, he walks me out to the curb and holds the doorto his car open for me before slipping into the driver’s side and driving me home, where I know I’m going to spend the rest of the night unable to sleep. How the hell am I supposed to follow someone who always seems to be watching everyone else? And what the hell else could I possibly do for this anonymous person without getting caught. At this point, I might be in a lose, lose situation and that, well, it’s scary as fuck.

Chapter 25

Lockhart

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I scream at my desk as I stand hunched over it, staring at my phone screen. Devin’s face is visible, but he’s not looking directly at me. He’s got me propped up on the counter of some shitty bathroom while he re-wraps his hand. I can see the wound that that little bitch inflicted on him is still bleeding from both sides of his hand. A nicer man would care. I’m not a nicer man. He’s sweating profusely, probably from the pain. Fucking pussy. How can someone who enjoys inflicting pain on others be such a goddamn little bitch.

He turns to me after shoving a couple pills in his mouth and grabs his phone to hold it closer to his face. “I’m sorry, boss. I already have myself scheduled for the next flight out. I won’t let you down again.”

“Damn right you won’t,” I seethe into the phone. “I don’t need another fuck up, Devin. Only the best will be at my side. Everyone else will be discarded like the rest of the trash.”

“Understood," he replies, while looking directly at me. That’s what I like about Devin. He knows his place and he’s eager to keep it. I won’t trust anyone ever fully, but he’s as close as they get. I hang up the phone without saying goodbye and breathe out a heavy sigh. Movement on the floor to my left catches my eye.

“It’s okay,” I say, petting the head of the cowering man curled up on his knees, looking at the floor. He’s completely naked and collared, the hard ridges of his body fully on display for me. His body quakes with fear, making me smile. “Daddy isn’t mad at you.”

My phone rings again, dragging my face from my pet.

“A little birdie told me you made a deal recently. A deal involving a club that I was also utilizing," the voice says smoothly when I answer the call.

I smirk. “It served a purpose.”

“Did it now?” he asks. I can tell it's more of a statement and not so much of a question, but we have been sharing small pieces of information for quite some time now, so no harm in letting on a little more.

“It did,” I reply. “I needed Xavier off my back. He signed everything over to me.” I can’t help the triumph I feel over that statement.

He chuckles, “Ahh, the infamous nephew. Whatever will you do without an heir?”

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