Hooked: A Dark, Contemporary Romance (Never After #1)(48)

I watch from my spot on the floor as he moves to the end table, collecting the stack of pixie dust and heading toward the door. He pauses at the threshold, turning to look at me. “Do try to behave, darling. I’d hate to have to punish you.”

And then he turns, and once again, I’m all alone.





27





James





It’s been three days since I took Wendy from her home and stashed her in the basement of the JR. In that time, I’ve felt more emotion than the previous fifteen years combined. My nights are restless in a way they’ve never been before. Dreams of Ru rising from the grave and telling me how I’ve failed him keep me wide awake and frazzled.

Funny how he once stopped my nightmares, only to become them in the end. Life is always full circle, I suppose.

That combined with the continual disappearance of our crates, and my insides are wound tight, a live wire waiting to be tripped.

And Wendy… Wendy.

Well, it’s a shame it’s gotten to this point, but there’s nothing to be done for it now. I’ll still use her for the same purpose, only in the end, instead of allowing her to go free, I’ll make her watch as I drain the life from her father’s eyes.

And then I’ll do the same to her.

There’s a sharp ache in my chest at the thought, but I take another sip of brandy and let the burn of liquor numb the pain. The ice clinks in my glass as I set it down, and settle into my chair, watching Wendy on the cameras and twirling an invitation to tonight’s charity gala.

She’s cross-legged in the middle of the room, her eyes closed and hands on her legs, almost as if she’s in deep meditation.

Starkey sits across from me, and I lean forward, placing my elbows on the desk.

“Tell me again,” I say slowly. “Who went with Ru to his meeting.”

Starkey’s jaw is set, his light brown hair ruffling against his fingers as he combs through the strands. “Nobody.”

“Nobody,” I repeat.

He lifts a shoulder. “Didn’t even tell anyone he was going.”

Irritation snaps in my veins, paper crumpling under my fingers. “You’re sure?”

Starkey’s leg bounces against the floor, and my eyes dip down, tracking the movement. Annoyance flows through me like an untapped faucet, and I bite my cheek so hard copper floods my mouth.

“Ye—yeah, boss, I’m sure.”

A pounding forms between my eyes and I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Get out of my sight.”

“But we still have to—”

I shoot from my chair, picking up my knife and flinging it toward him, lodging it into the far wall. “I said leave.” My knuckles ache as they press into the wood of my desk, and I look down, breathing deeply to keep my temper at bay. “Before my aim improves.”

He leaves within seconds, the soft click of the door making my shoulders drop.

The heartbeat in my ears combined with the grinding of my teeth is a symphony of sound, accompanying the tornado of white-hot frustration whipping through my insides, so potent I can’t drown it out.

It’s been almost a week since Ru’s murder, and still I’m no closer to answers.

Shipments are going missing, Peter Michaels is doing everything to control my streets, and now I’m supposed to step into Ru’s shoes and take over officially as the boss.

A title I’ve never been interested in having.

Add on top of that the infuriating woman in my basement, and I feel like a blank jigsaw puzzle with a thousand scattered pieces.

Someone knocks on the office door and I heave a breath. “Come in.”

Curly walks through, his chin dipping in acknowledgment.

“Any new developments?” I ask.

He shakes his head, walking over to where Wendy sits in silence on the screen. “Nope. She pretty much just does that all the time.”

Glancing down at the invitation in my palm, an idea forms in my mind. After all, I know Peter will be there, he’s their guest of honor, and it’s the first time he’ll be in Massachusetts since the night of Ru’s death.

It’s time to show him what happens when you underestimate a monster. A thrill zips through me, lighting up my stomach and electrifying my veins at the thought of finally putting my plan into action.

And Wendy is going to help me do it. Whether she wants to or not.





“Miss me, darling?” I ask as I walk into the darkened room.

Wendy still sits in the center, her eyes closed and legs crossed. “Like a hole in the head,” she replies.

A chuckle bubbles up my throat, but I bite it back. Leaning against the wall, I watch her, my chest pulling tight as I take in the bruising on her wrists and the matted strands of her hair.

She peeks open an eye, then snaps it shut when she meets my gaze. “People are going to notice I’m gone, you know.”

I nod, placing my hands in my pockets. “I’m counting on it.”

Both of her eyes open at this, her stare locking on mine, sending a flash of heat through my abdomen.

“My father will come for me.”

I tilt my head. “Are you quite sure?”

She hesitates, her jaw tightening as she looks away. “Of course.”