Page 23 of The Trap

Carmine : Oh and one more thing.

Here we go.

Me: ???

Carmine: You followed protocol on the Cromwell assignment correct?

Carmine: Or did you think with your pussy as per usual and get distracted by NOT wearing the leather gloves I supplied you each time you went to that house??

I scoff.

Me: You wanted me to get close to Brett and get the flash drives right?

Me: So getting close to him required me to stroke his ego and cock almost nightly. How about you try sucking and stroking dick with slippery gloves on? It doesn’t work.

Me: If you’re referring to Colson and Declan’s meeting at Oogie’s, it’s fine. If Colson tries anything, I’ll handle him

Carmine: By what? Sucking his dick too? Raiden, I swear to god

My thumbs fly at the keyboard of my phone in response to how he’s talking to me.

Me: Let me stop you there. Boss or not. Our mother’s being sisters aside, you better watch what the fuck you say to me next.

Carmine: Sorry but he knows who you are and there’s only so much I can do to protect you

Me: I’m fine.

Carmine: I fucking hope so. This has the potential to get messy.

Me: Then I’ll clean it up.

Carmine: You better.

Curling my phone in my hand, I realize that I never locked the front door. I move to the latch, securing it when something slams from the back of the house. Fuck, did I forget to lock the back door in the kitchen too? Suddenly, Delilah’s warning and this not so sleepy town’s current events has me on high alert. With my heart pounding, I tuck my phone back in my waistband, and bend down to get the 9mm Pocket Pistol tucked in my boot.

I inch forward slowly, keeping my stride soft, knowing which floorboards to avoid so they don’t creak beneath my feet. Leading the way with my pistol, I head towards the noise. I search each corner of each room, but nothing seems out of place. I continue my search until I reach the kitchen, relieved to see the wine I poured still on the counter and the back door locked – thankfully. I shrug off the unease coursing through me since clearly no one is here. It’s just my paranoia, I say to myself, immediately reaching for my wine glass. Taking a long sip, I gulpthe booze down, though as it pours down my throat, something tastes off. I lower the glass, angling my head to get a better view of the bottle, just to double-check that I did pour a Malbec and not one of Delilah’s sweet wines. Sure, enough a bottle of nearly empty, semi-dry Malbec stares back at me.

I take another sip, stewing on what Delilah said about Colson and Declan’s interaction at Oogie’s. Sure, Colson isn’t a good guy, I mean he’s a Cromwell after all, but I can’t see him doing something to hurt me. Not like he could anyway. And, in the off chance, he did try something, I can easily push my feelings or attraction for him aside and do what I’m trained to do…kill.I hope.

Though, as I slip my pistol back in my boot, the image of riding his cock while holding a gun to his pretty head sends a surge of arousal to my pussy that is now throbbing at the thought. “Holy fuck. Delilah was right. I need to get it together,” I mumble to myself.

Trying to shake the depraved images swarming in my mind; I take my wine with me to my room. I don’t know if it’s the adrenaline or how horny I suddenly am, but with each step I take I feel more and more lightheaded. I stumble through the doorway and place the little bit that remains in the glass on my nightstand. I feel myself beginning to drift off as another noise sounds. This time, quieter than the last.

“Hello,” I manage to say, but my voice has lost its usually fiery vigor.

White spots take over my vision as I reach for the nightstand. I know my hand is tapping at the furniture, but I can barely feel my palm. Everything feels fuzzy. My eyelids feel like they have boulders being dropped on them.I feel so damn tired.

I try to open my mouth to speak but all I can manage is a stifled gasp. As I lose to the quicksand that feels like it’s being poured over my body, I part my lips, but I can’t get words tocome out. And it’s only as I succumb to the dark cloud wreaking havoc on my body that I recognize the familiar, earthy aroma that somehow pounds at my nostrils even in my fading state. It’s the same scent that made my thighs clench and my mouth run dry when it wafted my way as I scurried away from Colson that night when he said, “never say never.”

TWELVE

Well, I doubt it crossed Declan’s mind when he gave me Raiden’s address that I would stoop so low as to break into her house and hide in her damn closet. Or that I’d feel a level of excitement to see her again—with no opportunity for her to run away—that overpowers the guilt I should be feeling for how I went about it. I mean, Declan gave me her phone number too, I could’ve just called or texted. I didn’t have to slip the sleep aid Maddox gave me into her wine while she was busy talking to her roommate.

I adjust my posture, leaning forward to peek through the sliver of open slats in the closet door. My lip falls victim to my teeth as the rounded curve of her ass fills my limited vision. I don’t know how she looks so fucking edible.Shit. No. What the fuck is wrong with me? I shake my head, forcing myself from the vile thoughts. It’s not that I don’t want to do those things to her, but I always imagined doing those things to her while she was awake and moaning my name. Looking at me with that seductive stare of hers while she submits that strong will tome. Giving me all of her to claim as mine. But as always, when it comes to her, I can’t think rationally. When Maddox suggested I break in and slip her a little something, I thought he was out of his mind.Well, more out of his mind than usual. However, the idea, insane as it was, stayed with me. So tonight, when I crept by the back kitchen window and saw her leave a hefty glass of wine on the countertop – Malbec, my favorite – I took it as a sign of fate when the back door was unlocked and here, we are. I took a page out of Maddox’s book and now I feel like a fucking creep. To top it off, I didn’t even ask Maddox how long this shit would last. Speaking of which, I need to text that motherfucker.

Still crouching, I reach for my phone.

Me: Hey, I’m here.

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