Page 64 of Carved Obsession
“Don’t worry, I’m all set in that department,” he says.
Once again, I whip my head around, glancing at him before looking back at the road. “With?”
I have one obvious answer in mind, but I’m surprised he managed to hide it.
“Just a woman I met in The Fightclub.”
There’s no way it’s who I’m thinking of. She never stepped foot down there. But this makes it even more shocking.
“So . . . it’s a new thing?” I ask.
“A couple of weeks.”
So not a one-time thing. Strange. But I nod, shifting my attention back to the road ahead and the problem at hand.
I wish I could get there faster, but the wretched kitten knew what she was doing by leaving the puzzle where she did. It’s out of town, on the opposite side from her house. I’ll even reach Midnight before my house. But I speed through the easing late-evening traffic, counting the fucking miles before we get to the speakeasy.
They trickle down, one by one, minute by minute, until finally, we’re in the center of Queenscove. Midnight is nearby, hidden in one of the old alleyways.
“Be careful, Carter. And...have fun.” Maddox swings the car door shut on a rumbling chuckle before I get to argue.
But I think I will.
I deserve some fucking fun.
Chapter 17
Scarlet
The familiar threads of adrenaline bloom through my muscles, anticipation putting a slight bounce in my step. Sexual frustration does too.
Since Carter touched me, held me, and warmed my aching body, I’ve been burning deep inside. It was all fake. Just a game. But fuck, it felt like he wanted more.
After I took out my anger on Cohen, who’s nothing but a pile of ash now, I had to feed this blazing need. Perfect time for my final strike on Carter.
Playing with him has been exceedingly fun. My last move wasn’t supposed to be today, but I got impatient after the feel of his lips against my skin. For my last move, I knew I wanted to steal something important to him, but I didn’t know what that would be. Last night, I sneaked into his CCTV, and, by sheer luck, I caught him playing the violin. I saw it in his house, but for whatever reason, it didn’t even cross my mind he knew how to play.
My decision was made the moment I saw him with it perched on his shoulder. I was mesmerized by the fluidity of his movements, by the beauty with which he played those chords. I had to stop watching. Somehow it felt wrong to be behind a screen instead of experiencing this in person.
So that was it—the violin was my final target, to make sure I pissed him off really good. I would have loved to see the look on his face when he saw the recording of me in his house. I would have followed him so I could get the opportunity, but there was no time. Tonight, Dad and I have an important job—and I’m gonna be late.
I make quick work of getting dressed, pulling on a sports bra, a long-sleeved, form-fitting T-shirt, and yoga pants. Matching my dark outfit, I slide on the usual black converse I regularly clean and keep away for jobs.
My phone vibrates, and Dad’s name flashes on the screen. I answer on the second ring.
“Evening, sweet pea.”
“Hey, Dad.”
“Are you ready?”
“Yes. Grabbing my laptop and my other phone now, and I’m out the door,” I answer.
“I’ll wait at the end of your drive.”
I hang up, grab two hair ties, and part my thick hair in the middle before I roll the length into two space buns on the sides of the top of my head. After one last fit check in the mirror, I turn off the lights and walk out through the back door in the kitchen, watching Dad’s headlights come down the long, winding driveway that connects our houses.
Setting my “work phone” in the holder after I get in my car, I press on his other number as we both pull onto the road through the automatic gate.
