None of that changed the fact that her safety, or lack thereof, made me extremely uncomfortable. Maybe hiring a security team would be a good idea. My eyes darted down to my phone, annoyed that we hadn’t heard back about Ian. I knew the hit was out, but I needed confirmation he was gone. What I had done and how I had left Greg hadn’t satisfied the bloodlust running through me. I needed that bastard dead, and until that happened, I would feel on edge. I didn’t know what we needed to do to make it more clear to everyone that she belonged to us.
I would figure it out, though, and make it happen.
Maybe a ring? A massive public wedding? We were bound to make news, considering the situation. Hell, maybe starting a family. A rumble broke in my throat as I tried to not dwell too much on that concept. I was going to lose my head over this woman.
When my phone rang, I picked it up, knowing it was Yates. “Morning.”
“They sent over more files.”
“What? Now?” I ran a hand through my hair before standing up and looking out my bedroom window, surprised to see Dahlia’s car in the driveway. I was glad she was back, and I was wondering if I could sneak into her room again. Finding her moaning in her shower with her fingers between her long legs had nearly undone me.
“Come over, they have the list of possible suspects.” He let out a sigh of exhaustion. “Some of this shit may surprise you.”
Wonderful. I loved surprises.
“Give me five.”
Unfortunately, I would have to wait on surprising Dahlia.
Hanging up, I went to my attached bathroom suite and took a quick shower, wondering if I could convince Dahlia to sleep over some time this week. I wanted to see her in my space, in my shower, and wearing my clothes. I wanted to breathe in her sweet scent and wake up with her in bed next to me, even if it was fully clothed.
There were two warring parts of me. One side turned into a goddamn softie romantic around Dahlia, just wanting to hold her and absorb the warmth and light she sheltered all of us in. The other part was a lot darker. The other part demanded that we fuck her hard enough that even when I wasn’t inside her, she’d feel me. That I made it so she was constantly thinking about me.
I wanted to mark every inch of her so everyone saw and understood she was ours.
My cock hardened as I let out a low groan, feeling frustrated as I turned the water freezing cold. It didn’t help at all, and I found myself in an even worse mood than before as I got ready for the day, wondering why this unsettling feeling wouldn’t go away.
I just knew something was wrong.
Making my way out of the house, the humidity hit me as I jogged towards Yates’s house, knowing the door would already be unlocked. I walked into the large estate and called out to him, hearing his voice echo from the dining room. My brows rose as I entered and realized that he had yet to sleep, his clothing the same as last night and his face exhausted and drawn.
I still hadn’t had time to give him shit about his plan with Dahlia at the law firm not working, but I could tell now wasn’t the time. I sat down as he slid me a folder, his eyes focused on his laptop as he updated me on everything.
“They sent those over. The first two I don’t know well, but one is from that Denim Moths group, and the other is that motherfucker married to that one therapist Dahlia had tried seeing.”
“The pharmacist?” I arched a brow, looking through the first two.
“Makes sense, I suppose.”
“So what’s the problem?” I flipped to the last page and froze, suddenly understanding.Motherfucker.
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” I said honestly.
“I have always gotten a bad fucking feeling from them,” Yates agreed.
Fucking Robert Brooks.
He wasn’t lying. Max and his father had left me with a really bad gut feeling when it came to their intentions towards our family. Abby even more so, but I could tell she was almost hyper-focused on Dahlia. Enough so that it made me want to hire security just to keep track of the woman so that our girl was safe. Abby struck me as one of those fatal attraction chicks that would come after Dahlia because she was obsessed or some shit.
Closing the file, I let out an exhausted exhale. “I need this to be done. I don’t mind handling law enforcement, but this is too close to home. I can practically feel them wanting Dahlia to get involved.”
“Absolutely not,” Yates scowled.
“We need to tell her anyway,” I muttered, wondering what she’d think about this situation with the FBI.
I knew almost everything about Dahlia, but her reaction to something like this would no doubt surprise me. Just like when she found out I’d beat the shit out of Greg, and instead of being freaked out, she had just curled up against me and told me that it didn’t bother her at all.
I’d considered expressing how fucking in love I was with her right there and then, but I figured it was in poor taste, considering I was covered in blood and she was exahusted. It didn’t change the fact that when I finally carried her to her room, I’d told her just how obsessed I was over her. Then again, that wasn’t anything new—I had constantly admitted to my obsession. She was usually just sleeping or not paying attention.
Others heard, though, and it was enough to scare them away, which served my purposes more than I could have imagined. Honestly, I could have never expected a force like this to take over my life. Then again, I could have never expected for me to be so lucky to grow up next to a legitimate angelic being. When my father had explained that from the moment he’d met my mom, he’d known she was ‘the one,’ I had realized the feeling I had towards Dahlia was the same, if not more intense. It had always been like this in our family—when the Ross men fell, they fell hard. For me, it was just a bit obsessive and dark. Now mind you, I hadn’t expected Dermot to fall in love with her at first either, but after some serious thought, it didn’t surprise me in the least.
It was hard not to love Dahlia.
Before I could comment on anything, Yates’s phone lit up with an alert as his computer began to make noise. His eyes widened as he cursed. My chest tightened, that feeling of foreboding hitting hard.
“We have a major fucking problem.”