The bass was still booming and people were still drinking when I charged back down into the kitchen. I tore my way through the drawers until I found what I needed. One hell of a knife slipped straight into my jacket, and then I pushed and shoved my way out of that hovel onto the sidewalk.
I didn’t have time to order a cab.
I didn’t have time to risk the cops showing up—even my Lucian Morelli get-out-of-shit-free card would take some time under this much commotion. Time I didn’t have.
I checked out my phone and looked up Fifth Avenue. A few blocks over. I could make it at a sprint, but it would take minutes at best. I just hoped Elaine Constantine’s pussy had minutes left to spare with a prick like that trying to get his hands on it. Even at a push it would be unlikely. Not if she was spreading her legs for him. And why wouldn’t she be?
Why wouldn’t she be spreading her legs for that asshole?
My stomach did a monster of a twist at the thought, and again I didn’t get it. I didn’t fucking get it. Why the fuck would I give a shit about Elaine Constantine spreading her legs for anyone?
The truth was there waiting.
I was desperate for her. Truly fucking desperate for her.
She sure as fuck didn’t belong to that loser, and if he’d taken her…if he’d taken what was mine…
The knife in my jacket was already crying out for his blood. Just a shame it wasn’t crying out for hers, too. Not anymore. Not until I’d taken every scrap of her soul and made it mine.
I set off at full speed, her clutch still clasped tight in my hand. I turned the corner at the bottom of the street, crashing into a couple walking up the other way, clearly ready to hit the party.
“Have you seen a girl with blonde hair? With some rocker asshole?”
They shook their heads, and the guy answered. “Nah, sorry, man. Ain’t seen anyone much this way.”
I was off without so much as a blink, scanning the street signs as I made my way closer. Fifth Avenue. Fifth fucking Avenue. I nearly got myself killed when a car came speeding the other way on Fourth Avenue, but it managed to brake just in time with a blare of the horn.
“Fucking asshole!” the driver yelled through the window.
My phone was directing me fast and clear, and my legs were carrying me with everything they had. My breaths were ragged, but not just from the sprint, it was from the rage. The challenge. And I hated to admit it. I hated to admit it with every piece of myself that I had. But it was fear.
I was scared to find Elaine Constantine taking another man’s cock.
When I turned the corner onto Fifth Avenue my blood was pounding in my ears. Block Twelve was down at the bottom end, and I was cursing all the way, still gripping that damn clutch under my arm as my damn knife bayed for his blood.
Block Twelve was a dive. The top floor had lights on in murky orange. I checked the main entrance but the keys didn’t fit the lock, and that’s when I saw it—the glimpse of a metal railing up by the top floor. The entrance doorway was up there.
I raced around to that staircase. I leaped up the rusty metal steps three at a time, and I could hear her. I could hear my Elaine inside there, and she was crying out.
Holy fuck, she was crying out. Crying out loud, crying out hard, crying out for help. My Elaine was crying out for help.
I’d never felt anything like the protective cesspit of rage inside me. It was scorching. Burning. Ready for the kill.
I didn’t need the key, just barged my way right in, and there she was, up against the wall with that asshole up against her, her dress hitched up high around her waist. He turned to face me with a sneer, but I wasn’t interested in his face, I was interested in hers. There were tears running down her beautiful cheeks, her eyes big and glassy as they saw me there…and the rage in me exploded. It exploded in liquid hate.
Maybe I could have let him live, if she’d been willing. Maybe.
But she looked high on something that wasn’t even cocaine. Had he drugged her? The fear in her eyes was unmistakable. He was forcing her. There was a reason I had a reputation that inspired obedience. I protected what was mine. And she was mine.
“What the—?” the fucker began, but he didn’t get the chance to finish.
In the quickest flash of my life I was up against him, slamming against him hard as my hand reached inside my jacket.
And in that flicker of a heartbeat the blade went into his guts.
Take it.
Once. Twice. Three times. I twisted that blade and fucked up his insides like the mess of a man he was.
His mouth opened, and he paled, and he knew it, even as he stumbled away with his hands to his stomach, he knew it. He was dying. He collapsed, and I stared down at him with a sneer of my own. The knife hung limp in my hand, blood splattered everywhere, including over my beautiful Constantine’s dress.
And that’s when she truly started crying.
Chapter Twenty-One
Elaine
I could hear my tears. Loud sobs from my chest as it heaved and lurched. I could hear them, but I couldn’t feel them. I couldn’t feel anything, just the buzz in my ears as I stared over at the man with the knife in his hand.
Lucian.
Lucian Morelli was really there. Really standing there with a bloody knife in his hand, staring at the man he’d just butchered. He’d just butchered Stephen. He’d just butchered Stephen for me. To save me.
There was blood on me too, splattered all over my dress. The fabric was still hitched up above my thighs, my panties still torn at the seam where Stephen was trying to get inside me.
He didn’t get inside me. Thank God, he didn’t get inside me.
Lucian didn’t speak, just stared. His jaw was gritted as he looked over at me, and that’s when it all came crashing in, the vivid colors, and the sounds, and the smells.
Stephen was still gurgling as he took his last breaths. I could see the blood bubbling from his mouth, dripping down the side of his face, and his hands were still trying to clasp the wound in his stomach. He was failing.
Stephen was dying, and Lucian didn’t show even a flutter of regret. There was nothing in him, nothing but righteous fury.
I pressed tighter against the wall as he gestured the knife at me, and that’s when I realized just how badly I was shaking.
“Did he fuck you?”
“What?” I asked, in barely more than a breath.
“I said, did he fuck you?”
I shook my head. “No. He…he couldn’t…I didn’t let him…”
He didn’t reply to that, just stepped closer to the man on the floor and kicked aside his hands from his wound. “What the fuck were you doing here?” the Morelli monster snapped at me, and I tried to answer that, but my voice was still stunted.
“I…I…”
The monster was on me in a flash, pressing me tight to the wall, his breaths fierce. This time his voice was a snarl. “I said, what the fuck were you doing here with that bastard, Elaine?”
“I don’t know!” I blurted out, and the sobs were so hard they were hurting. “I don’t know…I just wanted…I just wanted…”
“What?” he said, right in my face. “What did you want?”
He pointed to Stephen as he gulped his final breath, and I looked over. I looked over at the body, and I couldn’t find any words.