Sitting back on my heels, I flush the toilet and catch my breath. Standing up, I brush my teeth for the second time, scrubbing so hard I make my gums bleed, and gag when I run it aggressively over the back of my tongue. Trying to remove any trace that Kashton was there and the lingering taste of acid.
Grabbing my cell, I turn off the bathroom light and place my phone in the cradle on my nightstand, turning on music. Needing noise. I spent too many years in silence, and I can’t do it tonight. I hear voices that aren’t there. Well, they were there once. It’s the screams of those of us being tortured and trained. Someone was always crying. Even if they were gagged, you could still hear mumbled sobs.
It was terrifying, but it also had to do with the drugs. They altered and magnified emotions. It was always a struggle—in the back of my mind, I knew it was wrong, but my body craved it.
“THE PURGE” by In This Moment fills my room. It’s not loud enough to shake the walls, but loud enough to drown out anything Kashton related.
I crawl into bed naked and pull the covers up to my chin, leaving the light on. Yawning, I settle into the mattress, the bottle of Jack doing its job. I might not be addicted to drugs, but I rely heavily on alcohol. Neither one is good for me. But it’s not like it’ll kill me. If it were up to me, I’d already be dead.
KASHTON
Music fills the bathroom, and I frown, wondering what the fuck she’s doing. I thought she was going to bed.
I close the closet door and flip on the light, turning to confirm I have been in her closet. One wall’s filled with designer bags; another has various sizes and shapes of high heels. Some even look like something a stripper would wear.
Opening her drawers, I find her underwear—thongs, boy shorts, and G-strings. She didn’t come in here to get dressed, making me think she went to bed naked.
My cock was inside her less than an hour ago, and I’m already hard for her again. Especially after what she said to Adam. She thinks she can just fuck me and I’ll walk away from her?
I can handle him.
No. You can’t, angel. You think you’re sick now? Just wait. I’ll make you disgusted by the sight of me. I’m going to be everywhere in your life. All-consuming.
She’s going to be mine in every way. Including my wife.
I come to a section that is nothing but black clothes. Studded belts, black leather pants, and matching tops. I see something that catches my attention, making me frown. I pick up the hanger and look over the material.
It’s a bulletproof vest.
Looks to be custom made. More feminine than any I’ve ever seen before. It’s got plates in the front and back, Velcro over both the shoulders and across the waist but tailored to fit a smaller frame. And it feels lighter than most.
What the fuck does Adam have her do that requires a bulletproof vest? This isn’t something she can hide under a crop top when she’s trying to seduce a man in a bar.
This is something you wear under a hoodie when you’re prepared to get shot at.
Is she a cop? I know Adam works with them.
“We buried you,” I state the obvious, sitting on the private jet. “Your body…It was cold. It wasn’t like Haidyn’s fake death where he sat in a morgue. You fucking shot yourself…you had no face.”
Adam runs a hand over his dark hair. “Yeah.” His green eyes meet mine. “Although it wasn’t my body. We had to pull some strings.”
“We?” Haidyn asks, shooting a look at the other two men on the plane with us. They say nothing.
“So, what…you’re a detective or a cop?” I wonder, looking at Adam. “CIA?” Then I joke, “Hitman?” Fuck, I feel like anything is possible right now.
“Not necessarily.” He shakes his head, chuckling.
“Then what the fuck are you?” Saint growls, tired of fake deaths and games.
Adam slaps the detective on the back. “He’s my boss. For the past four years, I’ve been undercover, working in a top-secret division that specializes in human trafficking.”
I’ve seen it with my own eyes that she kills men. And the dead woman found in the cemetery…she has to be on the inside. She knows too much, and they’ve planted that body to take her down.
I return the vest and get back to going through her things. All her drawers are full of clothes or accessories. Not sex toys. Not a single one. Which I find suspicious. What kind of woman doesn’t have some sort of toys?
Does she not even touch herself?
Turning, I spot a box in the far corner. It’s hidden underneath some jeans hanging up, so it’s easy to miss.
