Page 31 of Wicked Truths

She’s sitting in a fancy restaurant. She and Marcus are on one side of the table with their chairs pulled close together. The dead man walking has his arm wrapped around her shoulder, and he’s staring down at her with the same smirk he always wears.

Bastien sends me a link to a paparazzi site.

I scroll through those pictures too; they’re all of Oakley and Marcus.

Every single image makes it clear I’m going to have to kill him.

He’s all over her and she seems into it.

That motherfucking bastard.

I’m supposed to be protecting her. He’s the last kind of guy she’ll ever be safe with. I’ve royally failed at my job, but more than that, I’ve let her down on a personal level if Marcus fucking Gaffney was able to slide in while I was busy getting my life in order.

* * *

I spend the next few hours in the gym, burning off as much of my rage as humanly possible.

It doesn’t help.

I’ve never been hit with alpha fog, but that’s what this is.

My brain is on a constant loop…

Images of strangling the life out of Marcus, pummeling his face with my fist until he’s unrecognizable, even burying him alive in a deep grave somewhere in the swamp all cross my mind.

I force myself out of the gym because, at this point, I think it’s possible the extra testosterone and energy boost from my workout is making shit worse.

I shower and dress, but I don’t know what to do next. I need to confront him. He’s one of those people who use other people up and spit them out.

I won’t let him do that with Oakley.

They’re about to go on tour, you giant block head,I remind myself.

She’s likely going to need a new bass player.

No, it’s not like I can keep him away from her permanently. I mean, unless he’s dead. Then again, I’ll have to be careful about it so I don’t end up in jail. If I’m locked up, she’ll be even more vulnerable without me around.

It’s nearly midnight when I make my way to his door and knock. There’s no answer, so I do it again louder this time.

I’m headed back to my room when I spot Marcus coming out of Oakley’s bedroom. He’s in a pair of low-slung sweatpants and he’s barefoot. He takes off toward the kitchen as I watch from the living room.

I probably look like a murderer, leaning into the shadows to make sure he doesn’t see me.

He jogs into the kitchen and grabs a take-out container from the fridge along with a couple bottles of water. He’s digging in the silverware drawer as I approach.

“Holy shit,” he growls, dropping the food container on the counter. “You’re too big to be that silent.”

I quirk an eyebrow. My pulse pounds in my ears so hard it’s difficult to focus. My inner caveman craves his fear. He should be afraid. I’m a little fucking concerned how little it would take for me to snap.

“What is this?” Marcus asks, setting down the water too. “Are you here to tell me to stay away from Oakleyor else?”

“You’re a piece of shit,” I growl, stepping forward and glaring at him over the kitchen island.

He nods. “I have been in the past. Is that all you needed to get off your chest?”

My jaw is so tight I think I could chip a tooth. I cross my arms over my chest to keep from lunging at him. “Is she a game to you? A conquest?”

“You and Sullivan,” he chuckles, “I’ve met some self-righteous motherfuckers in my life, but the two of you take the cake.”

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