“What do I think?”
“I wasn’t trying to rob him. I wasn’t going to keep his phone or anything else.”
“That’s good, although the alternatives might be worse.”
She grimaces like I’ve slapped her. I stand still, staring, waiting for her to explain, and I don’t think she’s far from breaking. I’ve done this before—sometimes silence is worse than talking, and people rush to fill the quiet like their words might make all their misdeeds somehow better.
But they never do.
Words are shovels, and people are their own best gravediggers.
“I need to find someone,” Gracie says finally, sounding desperate, and I can’t blame her—this situation is about as dire as it gets. “I think your brother might have something to do with her disappearance, and if I can just figure out how she’s connected to him and what he knows then maybe I can bring her home. That’s all I want, okay? I just want to bring her home. I don’t care about anything else.”
Tears fill her eyes. I watch as one rolls down her cheek, fat and glistening, and I’m not sure if she’s the best actress I’ve ever seen or if she really is this insanely naive and stupid.
“Riley,” I say quietly and she perks up.
“My cousin. That’s right.”
“That’s what you said back at the club. Your cousin, Riley. She’s the one that’s missing?”
She nods eagerly. “That’s all I want to know, where she is and what happened to her. I don’t care about his business or your business or anything and I never meant to hurt him, I’m just desperate, that’s all.”
“Let me understand something.” I come around the side of the bed again, moving slow and languid, my every step sending a flinching fear through her body. “You drugged the Don of the Los Angeles mafia—”
“It was just sleeping pills, I swear.”
Nice of her to admit it.
“—and you stole his phone, unlocked it with his unconscious hand, all to find your missing cousin?”
“Please, I know it sounds crazy, but it’s the truth.”
“Did you pursue a job at my club just so you’d get this chance one day?” My eyes widen a bit at the idea. She’s been my employee for something like nine or ten months now, which means her foresight and planning and dedication is shockingly impressive—very few people in this world are capable of such a task. I can only imagine the suffering she’s been through coming to work every day knowing her boss is the brother of the man she suspects stole away her cousin, or whatever it is she thinks happened.
“Yes,” she admits quietly, almost meekly, staring down at the covers in that fucking outfit, and the contrast between her submissive frown and that sexpot body is nearly too much to bear, but god, there’s nothing meek about this girl, there can’t be. Even if she has a wholesome streak despite all that skin showing, no normal person can put themselves through what she’s done and come out the other side still whole.
I should kill her.
The thought strikes me like a high-speed train. It nearly obliterates me—nearly shatters me to bits. Because I don’t want to end her life, not at all, I’m too fascinated by her right now to want that, but this girl is dangerous.
She drugged my brother and stole his phone. She embedded herself in my club for months waiting for the chance to slip sleeping pills into his drink.
That takes cunning and strength, and I learned a long time that the best way to survive in a world filled with snakes is to kill any vipers lurking in your house. And my god, this girl is a viper, poison-fanged and sparkling and hungry for blood.
“I’m not a threat to you,” she says, almost as if she can read my mind, and she turns to stare into my eyes, still crying, those long tears rolling down her cheeks. Why the fuck do they make me feel bad for her? I don’t feel bad—I don’t even feel pity—I can’t afford to feel a damn thing right now. “I only wanted to find some information, that’s all, I swear. I’m just some girl from West Virginia, I don’t know anything and I didn’t mean your brother any harm, I just wanted—”
“Stop talking,” I say and she snaps her mouth shut. I should let her go on but I can’t stand to hear another word. I take a deep breath and rub my face, and my mind’s fractured in half, one part of me screaming that I need to kill her and do it fast before I lose my nerve, and the other half pleading for her life if only so I can keep listening to her honeyed words and gaze on that gorgeous, tight little body.
A sick thrill runs down my spine and I walk away from her.