My phone rang as I excused myself. “What's the status, Jacob?”
Usually, I liked Jacob’s straightforward delivery. There wasn't a lot of small talk. He was direct. Efficient. But when he said the next words, I wished he'd found a way to soften the blow.
“Emma's been knocked out.”
Twenty-Four
Bridge
I was going to kill her. That was the only way to explain what the hell was going on right now. I was going to kill her. Put my hands around her throat and squeeze.
Because apparently, she would prefer to be dead rather than alive. Everything I had done to keep her safe, to keep her walking, to keep her moving, she’d disregarded. So I might as well kill her myself. It would certainly be satisfying.
"Run me through this again. You got a call from the asshole. You decided to take that call yourself instead of calling me. Or East or even Ben. You called the girls. The lot of you decided you were going to take care of this on your own. I know Nyla and Amelia can take care of themselves, but fucking hell, you girls literally told us nothing and decided to go meet this man who could be very dangerous, who could be working for Middleton, or actually be Middleton himself."
She winced and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Yes, that's accurate.”
The way she said it with such a clipped tone, as if she was daring to have an attitude about it, drove me insane. "You did the one thing I needed you to not do, and you have the nerve to be angry at me?”
"I'm not angry at you, Bridge. I just, I needed to do it, okay?"
"Uh, no. Not okay. I don't understand." I needed her to make me fucking understand.
"Look, I feel useless. I don't like having to be the protected, cosseted one. It sucks."
"You know full well why you're here."
"Yes, you keep telling me, Bridge. House, work, my routine, yep. I needed to do something more."
"Haven't we already established that you needing to do something is exactly what ended us all up in this mess?"
"Fine. You want to yell, keep yelling."
I could feel it, the loss of control pulling taught on the chain that kept me anchored. It was about to snap.
And sure enough, when she rolled her eyes, I lost it.
I leaned forward, trapping her in her chair with both of my arms on the armrests, so close our breaths commingled. I could kiss her, or I could literally savage her with my teeth. I was all jaws and fangs then. I was desperate to stop needing her.
"He hurt you," I muttered through clenched teeth.
"Not really. He could have killed me, but he didn't. Instead, he knocked me out to keep me from following him.”
"And fucking chained you to the door."
"It was a zip tie. And Jacob came right up thirty seconds later. I was fine. I was just unconscious."
"Unconscious." That word again as if it was an everyday occurrence.
I pushed myself away from her. If I stayed that close to her, I was going to kill her. I really was.
"Stay here. Guards are outside. I need to leave."
She sputtered as she blinked rapidly. "Where the fuck are you going?"
"You're asking me where I'm going?"
"Yeah, I am. Is that so unusual?"
"I find it laughable, not unusual." She was really taking the piss now.
"You're not going to tell me?"
I shook my head. "No. Occupy yourself. We’ll talk when I get back."
"And you're not going to tell me how long you'll be gone, or who you're going to see, or what you're going to do?"
"No. Because obviously you don't give a fuck enough about your safety, so why should I give a fuck about your boredom?”
I left her there. Sitting in my club chair and gawking at me. She couldn't go anywhere. Seth would make sure of that. I’d already had the doctor come and check her out. She was fine. I had to remind myself she would be fine. Physically anyway, although I was pretty damn sure she had a screw loose.
And the truth of the matter was that I couldn't tell her where I was going. Because where I was going was going to be a fucking problem for everybody.
I didn't take the front elevators that would lead me down to the lobby. And I deliberately didn't walk by Ben or East's offices. Instead, I went around the back, downstairs to the gym, and changed into my nighttime running gear. Occasionally I left it here for the days I couldn't get a workout. I changed swiftly and methodically, giving not a single fuck about my decision. I was beyond rational thought.
I finally opted to drive to my location because I didn't want to waste time. We’d had a PI on Middleton for weeks now. I knew his movements. Mostly the office, clients, the club, home.
This was stupid and dangerous.
If you're going to go through with this, at least take time to plan it.
But I didn't want to take time to plan it. I wanted Middleton to burn. And I needed it to be by my own hand.
It was already 8:00 p.m. And the tag we had on his car said he was still at the office. It was easy enough to slide around the back of the building and wait in the shadows.
What was I going to do if he actually got in his car?
Oh yeah, that's what happens when you don't think things through.
But it was Friday. He always walked somewhere and then vanished off coms for two hours. And when he came back, he went to his car and went home. I was going to see where the fuck he was going.
I wanted to see if I could get him alone and kill him.
That flash of darkness that I usually ignored had reared its ugly head. Because really, who let murder be the solution to a problem?
Middleton.
Okay, fair point. I was only going to follow him. I wasn't going to hurt him.
Still though, when I pulled up my hoodie and let my body become one with the shadows, it was familiar, pleasant even. Easy. As if I was finally shutting off the facade of being someone reasonably decent and once again embracing who I really was.
Tailing him was easy. That was the thing about the Elite. You got very used to being the apex predator. You only watched yourself around the other members of the Elite. And even though Ben had become Director Prime, we kept our eyes on the ball and our guards up around everybody. Middleton didn't have that problem. His demeanor didn't change. He walked with ease. He even had earphones in. Idiot.
I followed him down the road, noticing he always took the back streets. Less lighting, keeping to the shadows himself. We passed a couple of those underground pubs that were really known among those who were hip, massive lines for a completely darkened door with a massive man in front of it. Women dressed in far too little and much too short, stomping like show ponies in their heels. Middleton took a sharp left, and I followed suit far enough behind that I might look like a straggler. And then he vanished.
I had the option of two alleyways, but a screaming alarm up my spine made me halt and creep back into the shadows.
Suddenly he jumped out with a switchblade drawn, but he couldn't see me, though I could see him. He stood there for a long moment, switchblade at the ready. Then he frowned, putting the blade away as he shook his head. And when he turned his back, I slid out of the shadows and hooked an arm around his neck. I dragged him into the dark.