As soon as my phone beeps, I tiptoe out of the apartment. Still no sign of Dallas, and I let out a soft sigh of relief as I get in the elevator, jabbing theLbutton for the lobby.
It’s the middle of September. During the day, we can still see the echoes of summer in the brilliant blue sky. At night, the temperature dips, and a woman wearing a jacket with the hood up doesn’t draw much attention.
Especially since her head of white-blonde hair would catch the eye of every member of security who would be looking out for the King’s pawn…
I keep waiting for someone to flag me down as I make my away across the lobby and out through the front door. I get lucky—or maybe they have orders to watch from a distance, I don’t know—but no one stops me and, before I know it, I’m hurrying toward the basic, nondescript black car that she told me to search for.
I head for the passenger’s side door, pausing when I see that Haven is sitting there. I thought that would be my seat since she was driving, but as I squat a little to check the driver’s seat, Isee Connor leaning back, hands rap-tap-tapping on the steering wheel.
I glare at Haven.
She rolls her eyes, the universal gesture forI know you said not to, but I had to tell my husband and he insisted on tagging along anyways.
Connor shifts in his seat, catching my attention. “Don’t worry, Luce. Haven told me we’re keeping this one under wraps. Mum’s the word and all that shit.”
I’m not sure I can believe that. “You’ll lie to Dallas for me?”
Connor chuckles. “For you? No. But for Haven? I’ll do anything for my wife and she told me this is a secret rescue mission. I’m fucking great at those. Now get in before someone in the Fortress sees you and I have to deal with Dallas Collins’s pissy ass.”
You know what? That’s good enough for me.
TWENTY
GONE
DALLAS
Imake it two hours before I say ‘fuck it’ and go back to the Fortress.
I know Lucy said she needed space. I know I hurt her, that when the lies all came out, there was a good chance that she would decide that she couldn’t start her new life over with someone that she couldn’t trust. I couldn’t blame her, either, even though I spent the two hours convincing myself that love is enough. I fuckingloveLucy, and I’ll do anything I can to prove that that was never a lie. I mean, what kind of man pretends to be her husband if he doesn’t love her, right?
And if I know that I’m being delusional, maybe it’s a good thing that I at least understand that my brain is cracked.
On my way inside the Fortress, at least four people break out of the crowd to approach me. I’m not in the mood for this shit. When Jack was King, all of the Owed were too afraid of his temper to do something so bold. If they wanted a meet with him, they make an appointment and hoped that he wasn’t too busy fucking the Used to show up. Me? As if they see my casual wear, my scowl, my boots, and tats and, because it’s not a slicked-back do poured into an expensive suit, they think my time’s not valuable. That my title isn’t the same.
They want shit from me. They all do. Favors and money and power… they’ll kiss my ass and wheedle and fawn, and I’m so fucking sick of it. Though Adrian would chide me, saying the King as to listen to the Owed if we want to work to change the shitshow that is the Order from the inside out, he’s not here right now, is he?
I push my way through the crowd, ignoring the calls of my name, of ‘sir, of ‘excuse me’. When the elevator opens, and I step in front of a group that had been waiting for her, slamming it shut before anyone can join me, I see frustrated looks, but none of them dare to say anything about it.
I tap my boot as the elevator takes its sweet ass time going up to the penthouse. Then, when the doors open, I jog to our door.
The first thing I notice is the silence. The penthouse is too quiet, and my whole body goes cold.
You see, Lucy has a way of filling space even when she’s not speaking. The soft sounds of her turning the page of her latest book, the hum of the television in the living room when she’s binging a show, the whisper of her footsteps across the hardwood floors as she moves around the apartment.
But when I walk into the penthouse, I hear none of it.
Maybe… maybe she’s sleeping. That has to be it. The betrayal hit hard enough that she decided to go to sleep to escape the pain. As much as that hurts me, knowing I hurther, it’s not like she left.
She couldn’t have left.
The security team would’ve alerted me. Shit, the app on her phone that I tucked in one of the folders that came standard to the device… that would’ve alerted me, too.
Before I go searching for her, I reach into my pocket and yank out my phone. I tap the app, waiting, waiting… okay. Her phone pings that she’s somewhere in the penthouse.
Good.
“Lucy? Luce, baby, you up?”
