Page 65 of Taking

Nothing.

The FBI agent turned back into his house and shut the door with a click that echoed through the cold air.

My breath left in a rush, a puff of white.

Fucking cold had returned with a vengeance. I hurried up the road.

I yanked off my gloves and blew my breath onto my hands once enclosed in the car’s warm interior with her.

“Now what?” Addilyn asked quietly.

“Now we cross our fingers that agent will do the right thing and wait for the outcome.” I put the car into drive and pulled away from the curb. It could take days. Weeks. How long before Lloyd hired someone to come after us? Or had he already?

He wouldn’t be able to find us at the cabin, but the hotel? Every time we went out, we risked being seen no matter how careful we were.

“We’re going to grab our shit and head north,” I said, my mind made up. “We’re already pressing our luck by being in the city. Waiting here for the shit to hit the fan means a greater chance of running into Lloyd.”

But I would return.

Without Addilyn.

She’d be pissed, but I couldn’t take any chances. I had plans that didn’t include her, and no way in fucking hell would I let her stop me.

“I think we should stay.”

I glanced at her. “Every minute we’re here—”

“I know,” she cut me off, angling to face me. “But I want to see that asshole get hauled off in cuffs, Gideon. Just like you. At the cabin, there’s no TV. No newspapers.”

She had a point, but I needed her back at Twinkie’s where she would be safe while I finished cleaning up the mess of my past.

Lloyd was too invested in his dead wife’s money—and daughter. No fucking way he’d run even if he did suspect I had a hand in getting his friend locked up.

But would he trust me enough to follow me once I contacted him with the lie that Addilyn had finally broken? Would he allow me to see my plan to fruition?

If not, I would think of another plan to get him where I needed him to be.

“One week,” I stated, hating that I gave in.

“Two.”

A muscle ticked in my jaw. Two put us too damn close to her birthday, but I finally nodded. Two weeks, max. And on day thirteen, if we still sat in the hotel awaiting justice for Sheriff Bradshaw, I would have to move forward—whether Addilyn wanted it or not.

25

Addilyn

Days passed in seclusion.

We fucked. Ate take out.

Made up for lost time by fucking some more. Every night, I lay sated, bow-legged and exhausted. Sweaty and dripping cum from my abused pussy or ass. Gideon fucked like an animal. Rough and bruising, the pain so exquisite I often cried.

He licked my tears, told me how much he craved and jacked off to them. Showed me how hard they made his dick.

His filthy words of how my sickness turned him on only got me wetter. Needier.

Would I ever come to terms with the darkness inside me? Could I accept the depraved woman I’d become because of Gideon—and Lloyd? There was no denying my stepfather had some part in twisting my body, my mind, in what turned me on.

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