Page 42 of Lust

“Well, well, well. What is it you think I can do for you at this ridiculous time of night, Stone?”

“As if you were sleeping,” I snark back. “I need a solid contact in homicide who can get me some info.”

“And what makes you think I can help? Did you miss the part where I’m not a cop anymore?” I hear a grumbled “Fuck off, Stone!” in the background.

“Nice to see someone is as grumpy as always. Look, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important, and I know you still have some friends on the force.”

She sighs. “Annabel?” I grunt. “Stupid question, huh. Fine. I might have someone. Send me what you need, and I’ll see what they can do.”

“I owe you one, Rox.”

“Yeah, you fucking do. I’ll be in touch. Now fuck off, Stone.”

I can’t help laughing at her friendly farewell. I spend the next hour putting together details for Rox’s contact, then send it to her via a secured email.

I’m staring out the window, my back to the door, when I sense I’m no longer alone.

“Where is she?” I ask without bothering to turn around .

“In her room.” Feet brush over the carpet as he enters the room. “If you knew all this earlier, why didn’t you stop it before we went too far?”

“That’s like asking an addict why they need their next hit. One taste of Sydney Kincaid was all it took.” He appears in front of me, leaning against the window ledge, arms crossed. “Said it yourself, Blake.”

“I did. I wasn’t wrong,” he says, and I finally look up at him. “Are you sure Kincaid isn’t our man?”

I nod, swallowing down the last of my bourbon. “Enough to make me question everything we know.” I rest the glass on my knee and spin it.

“Did he really ask you to protect her?”

“Yep! And I know he’s holding back. He gave me a fake name, an alias, for the real killer, but he refused to give me anything more. How the fuck does he expect me to protect her if I don’t know who I’m looking for?”

Silence fills the room for a couple of minutes, then Blake steps forward, resting his hands on each arm rest, caging me in like I did to Sydney. “Then make him tell you.” Blake arches a brow.

I level a glare at Blake as my mind whirs with several ways I could force Kincaid to tell me what I want. The only real way I can see him giving it up is by using Sydney.

“We’ll take her to see him in the morning.” He nods, confirming he had the same idea. I put aside my feelings over involving Sydney because guilt isn’t something I’m accustomed to. My life doesn’t allow for that type of emotion, you own your choices, even if they are a mistake. Blake leads me to bed with a silent promise of fucking my anger away. It’s not therapy level appropriate, but it’s what we do. It works for us. And I have a feeling it’s going to be something Sydney could get on board with.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

SYDNEY

Islam the door, resting back against it to catch my breath. I feel like I ran a marathon. Oxygen fills my lungs and kicks starts my brain to think straight again. I scan the room for anything I can use against the door. Spotting the chair in the corner, I rush over and pick it up, then ram it under the door handle. Stepping back I admire my work but instantly deflate as it dawns on me that will never keep them out if they really want to get in here.

Shoving the thought aside, labelling it as nonsense, I step away from the door and listen intently for any indication Blake is going to try to speak to me or come in here. I can’t face either of them right this second. My mind is at capacity of what it can cope with. Several minutes pass before I drop onto the bed with a sigh.

I cover my face with my hands and allow my tears freedom. Freedom. Such a simple word that defines a person’s life. Before tonight, I had thought I was free, but I was wrong. I wasn’t free at all. Every decision I’ve ever made has been with the approval of God and my pa, the silent acceptance of doing the right thing. But the right thing for who? Roman’s words about sex outside of marriage hit hard because I did it. I had sex with my fiancé to stop him from straying—again. Look how that ended?

My sobs grow heavier as I think about Pa, the man I trusted the most, the man who raised me, protected me. Why would Roman and Blake think Pa was a rapist, a murderer? Roman’s words come back to me about being wrong and ruining me, Pa telling him to protect me and Blake mentioning someone called Bell. The only thing that makes any sense is if they came here for revenge. And I was clearly part of that.

Let’s defile the innocent daughter to destroy the man.

Nausea roils in my gut, bile burns my throat, and I rush for the bathroom.

It’s empty.

My stomach is empty just like me.

I shower, going through the motions, before climbing into bed, curling into a ball and willing sleep to take me. It does—eventually—but it’s not peaceful.

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