My steps into the penthouse suite aren’t as determined as I would like them to be. I can’t stop recalling the horrible procedures the latest female victims in this state endured before someone discarded them, and I am suddenly worried I’ve made a terrible mistake.
Someone stripped those ladies’ babies from their wombs, and I have an inkling that Samuel had something to do with that.
The penthouse suite presents itself in a way you’d expect every fuck pad to appear. The mood is dark and sexually charged. A pricy bottle of wine rests in an ice bucket next to a large king-size bed. Soft ambient music plays from the speakers above my head, and chocolate strawberries sit on the desk, which is as bulky as the rest of the furniture.
I move toward the bathroom, faking a wish to freshen up. “I won’t be a minute.”
Even if my contact forces Grayson to arrest Samuel, I owe it to my unborn child to defuse a possibly dangerous situation. Furthermore, this hotel is a thirty-minute drive from my apartment. I am bound to get something out of Samuel before Grayson arrives. I’ll make sure of it.
Just as I’m about to enter the bathroom, Samuel seizes my wrist and tugs me back. I reach for my gun when our bodies violently collide, but leave it in its mini holster when Samuel’s lips crash into mine half a second later.
He isn’t calling out our date as fraudulent.
He is attempting to swoon me.
He would have a better chance if his mouth didn’t taste like garbage. The flavoring of the filet mignon isn’t potent enough to overtake the horrible tones of stale cigars and cheap liquor.
Inching back, I act breathless from his disgusting kiss. “Just a minute. A girl needs to prepare before being mauled like that.”
My falsified flattery fluffs out Samuel’s groin, and the gap it forces between us exposes another horrifying fact.
A red dot is lighting up Samuel’s temple.
It is the obvious kill shot of a skilled marksman.
When Samuel’s focus shifts to my exposed neck, too impatient to let a girl think, much less give consent, I shoot my eyes in the direction the sniper light is coming from.
My heart launches into my throat when I spot the steely blue eyes of Grayson staring back at me. He’s lying in the oversized tub in the bathroom, peering down the scope of a weapon that will leave Samuel without a brain cell when its bullet rockets through his skull.
Many thoughts whistle through the gallows of my overworked head, but only one sounds on repeat.How did Grayson find me so fast?
Anyone would swear the first thing he did when I left was bring up every morsel of information about my date. He’s acting like a neurotic ex, and it does wild things to my insides that Samuel’s attention could never replicate.
Although my insides are tap dancing, it doesn’t change the facts. I need intel, and I needed it yesterday.
While moaning like I haven’t noticed how much spit Samuel has left on my neck, I silently plead for Grayson to give me professional courtesy, to acknowledge that I’m as good an agent as he is. I have what it takes to bring Samuel down, even more so now that Grayson is here, handling the situation. I just need him to have faith in me, to believe in me as I have always believed in him.
Although Grayson’s expression doesn’t alter, the fact that Samuel’s hand makes its way to my breast without incident announces his decision. He trusts me, and I trust him, and the knowledge is addictive enough to make me giddy.
9
GRAYSON
My finger hugs the trigger of my semi-automatic M110 sniper rifle firmer for every grope Samuel does to Macy’s breasts. He fondles them as if he knows that both her stomach and her chest are compliments of her unborn baby’s growth, and the knowledge doesn’t gross him out.
I understand why.Regretfully.
The merchandise is not for sampling by low-ranked goons like Samuel. The women organizations like his kidnap are for the top of the food chain. They’re for the men and women who want untouched, virginal surrogates. They would never accept a woman men had manhandled and passed around.
That’s why Samuel is getting his rocks off with his own version of a surrogate.
He’s done the same thing a few times during the past four months. His antics only came to light when he got a little rough with a mother-to-be, and she reported him to the local authorities.
Elise showed up dead earlier this month, which has me suspicious that her murder is why Samuel chose an alias for his date tonight.
Though tense, Macy stays composed as she questions Samuel. She mentions her baby bump multiple times, implying that she’s afraid it might turn him off.
Samuel assures her it doesn’t, and although Macy gets close to making him slip on multiple occasions, mainly while his focus is on her extended stomach, he keeps his cards close to his chest.
