Page 52 of Reclaim (Deadly Hearts 3)

There is only one way that would happen. She has access to his phone’s location.

“Stalker or lover?” I add, daring him to reply with the wrong answer.

His clear blue eyes narrow. “Stalker,” he says. “And don’t you ever doubt me again, sweetheart.”

“Oh, you have some nerve,” I spit out. “Do not turn this around on me. Get this whore out of my house before I throw you out along with her.”

“She was just leaving,” Declan says, grabbing the whore by her arm and leading her towards the open back door.

She came in through the back? Hmm.

Perhaps Layton is telling the truth. Non-stalkers use the front door. Usually. And I do trust him. He wouldn’t tell me he is committed and then go behind my back. However, he clearly knew about this bit of stalking, and he didn’t tell me. That is a major offense as far as I’m concerned.

“Layton, wait,” she says, turning desperately. “Please, I need you.”

“Go, Maribel,” he says gruffly, eyes trained on me, caution etched deep in them.

“Maribel?” I scoff. Well, that is just one of the prettiest damned names I’ve come across, to go with her pretty whorish face. “Ex Subbie?” I add scathingly.

“Yes,” he states. “I was going to tell you…”

“So you did know?” I shake my head, my good mood from earlier plummeting. “Fuck you. I don’t have the time or the inclination for this right now. I’ve got work to do.”

I turn on my heel, giving the other men death stares as I pass them. They all knew about this and let me sleep and shower and get dressed while she was here begging to speak to Layton.

Yeah, fucking nope. They can all go to hell right now. Except Cillian. He seems to be nowhere to be found so perhaps he isn’t complicit in this.

I storm outside fuming, to find Cillian smoking outside, leaning against a very new acquisition parked in my driveway. I snicker.

“Missing her?”

He straightens up from the white Ferrari and crunches the cigarette under his boot heel.

“Little bit,” he smirks.

“You know about her?” I gesture with my head at the woman sullenly being escorted firmly around the side of the house by Declan.

He gives me a fierce frown as he passes and leads her to a waiting Uber on the verge outside the front gate.

He shakes his head. “I just got back. Thought the Uber was for you.”

“Well, you can take me into the city. The rest of these dicks are on my shit list for the rest of the day.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Don’t want to talk about it. Drive me? And maybe a bit of a fondle while you’re at it?”

“Fondle?” he howls with laughter, and I laugh with him. “You got it, Rubes.”

Feeling less enraged, I allow him to open the passenger door for me. I slip inside, waiting for him to get in the driver’s seat. We set off in silence, his hand on my thigh, just where the end of my dress sits. I open my legs a fraction and he slips his hand in between them, inching up, a smile on his face.

“Last time I was in a white Ferrari, I took care of this myself,” I remind him.

“I’m aware. Do you want me to handle it this time?”

“I have a better idea. Keep driving.”

We carry on in silence until we reach the parking lot at the back of Black Widows. He gives me a curious look, but climbs out of the car and comes around to help me out. Before he reaches the door, I’ve lifted my hips and slipped my panties off, determined to have a bit of public sex this morning, even if it is just at the back of my place of work where few cars come by.

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