Page 40 of Retribution
Trey checks the time on his phone and gives me a nod. Leaving the dildo in Ernesto’s ass, I pick the knife back up. “You’ll be seeing some familiar faces soon,” I purr to him, a wide smile stretching across my face. And then I plunge the knife into his heart.
Trey pulls himself to his feet, tagging the court with the can of spray paint he thoughtfully added to the backpack.
For my final act, I use Ernesto’s blood to writeRetributionacross his forehead, before gathering up our things and heading back to the Jeep.
The shadows start to retreat, my head clearing as we drive away, heading for whatever hotel we’ll stay at tonight. My panties are soaked, and I desperately need Trey to make me come.
Preferably more than once.
He catches me rubbing my legs together and throws a smirk my way, placing his hand between my thighs. His finger presses hard against my clit, rubbing in circles as he keeps his eyes on the road. It’s not long before I shatter, the bloodlust melting away in the heat from the orgasm.
He really is the perfect man.
Chapter 22
Trey
Idon’t want us to stay at one place too long, not wanting to be recognized as regulars. Tonight, it’s the Marriott’s turn to host us. Leaning back against the pillows, I turn on the TV to catch up on the news while Rebecca is in the shower. The stations are all reporting the same—more news from the House of Horrors, as they are calling it.
My brows lower as there seems to be a new development.
“Detective! Detective Latham!” the reporter calls out. The dark-haired detective turns towards the cameras, two other women by her side. The three women are all obviously law enforcement, even if one is covered in tattoos and looks like she would be more at home in a biker bar than a precinct.
“Is it true you’re working with the FBI?” the reporter asks. Tattoo lady rolls her eyes and nudges the woman at her side.
“Yes, because of the magnitude of this case, we have decided it would be best to work alongside the Bureau. These are Agents Buchanan and Gerhardt, they will be running point on the investigation.”
The reporter smiles for the camera, her overly large microphone practically concealing her face. “And can you tell us what you have found today?”
Agent Buchanan steps forward. “We have no further comments at this time. We’ll be happy to share information as needed, but please respect that this is an active crime scene.”
They start to move away when a different reporter shouts out, “Is it true you’ve uncovered a graveyard?” As one, the three women pause, before continuing away. “We have a right to know! Have any bodies been recovered?”
A soft noise at the doorway swings my head around. Rebecca is leaning against the doorway in just a towel, a shaky hand against her mouth. Concerned, I stand, making my way over to her, the news forgotten as I take in her trembling legs and tear-filled eyes.
“Hey,” I say quietly, pulling her against me. “Are you okay?”
She says nothing, just shakes in my arms, her hair dripping down my chest, mixing with her tears.
“Rebecca?”
She pulls back, wiping her eyes, and offers me a sad smile. “I—I’m fine,” she whispers, turning to go back into the bathroom. The door shuts behind her, shutting me out, and I don’t like that, at all. Knocking on the door, I go to turn the handle, only to find it locked against me. She’s never locked me out before, and I’m worried. I can tell she hasn’t told me everything that happened to her in that house. I recognized the small silvery marks across her abdomen. Stretch marks. I was hoping she would tell me when she was ready.
Fuck. Did she have a baby? Was it out there somewhere? Or is it true, and they found graves? Did her baby die?
“Rebecca, please talk to me. Don’t shut me out.” Sliding down to the floor, I sit back, leaning against the door. “Please.”
I can hear her moving, a soft thump against the door as she too sits against it on the other side.
“Trey, I—” she starts softly before stopping. “I don’t know if I can talk about this. I’ve never told this to anyone before.”
Icy claws grip my heart. Her story is filled with so much pain already. Can I really listen to more?
“I’m worried you’ll leave me,” she murmurs, so quietly I barely hear her.
“You’re my forever, Rebecca. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”
She hesitates for a moment, then I hear her pulling herself to her feet. She unlocks the door and I move out of the way, pressing my back to the wall. Lifting my hand to her, she takes it, dropping into my lap as the words start tumbling from her lips.
