Page 190 of Dirty Damage

“Where is she now? Didn’t you have men tailing her?”

“I did. The last sighting was when she made her way over to Mara’s place, hours ago now. It seems that Drew was tailing her the entire time.”

Artem pulls up some images on his phone and shows them to me. It features Sutton, walking down a street, her face turned to the side, displaying a fresh bruise that’s turned her pale skin a vibrant shade of purple.

“What the fuck?” I say, rage curling its way through my fingers until they tighten into fists.

“Apparently, she was accosted by Anton in a smoothie bar.”

“Hedid that to her?”

“Well, she didn’t have that bruise when she walked in.”

“FUCK!” I explode.

I twist around and punch my fist into the closest surface. My hand erupts in pain, but I welcome the sting.

It’s better than this helpless feeling churning in my gut.

“Hey, brother, save that for the people who really deserve it,” Artem counsels.

“Where is she?” I demand.

Artem winces. “Ilya sent a report twenty minutes ago. She disappeared into Mara’s building ages ago. But it seemed she took a different exit out of there. Possibly because Anton has been parked outside the building for hours.”

“Meaning you’ve lost her?”

“We’ll find her,” Artem assures me.

Why do those three little words fill me with comfort? I shouldn’t care one way or the other. Hadn’t I washed my hands of Sutton Palmer?

She’s Anton’s problem now.

And yet the sight of that bruise on her face has me spiraling. How dare that fucker lay a finger on her? How dare he touch her?

And then—in the furthest, darkest corner of my mind—a thought inches its way into the forefront.

How dare he touch what’smine?

I jump off the yacht and onto the dock. “Where’s Anton?”

Artem follows. “He was at Mara’s building up until a half-hour ago. Now, we’re not sure. The men were busy scrambling to locate Sutton. Anton’s not on their assignment.”

“Goddammit,” I say, rummaging around in my pockets for the keys to my car.

“Give those to me,” Artem says the moment I find them. “Let me drive. In your state, you’re going to run someone over.”

“If it happens to be Drew, that would be fucking perfect,” I growl.

But I hand over the keys anyway. I’m in no fit state to drive and I’m not so far gone that I don’t recognize that.

“Where to?” Artem asks as he gets behind the wheel.

“Mara’s place. I want to speak to her.”

“Okay, but take a deep breath. Chill, brother. If you don’t get those veins in your forehead under control, you’re likely to scare the poor girl to death.”

White-knuckling the seat, I try to breathe through the anger.

---