It was all I needed to hear before I was already on my feet and storming through the door. The small house smelled of sex and liquor, and a gust of smoke from the blunt James and Reggi were sharing engulfed me before the two jumped from the couch. Dex’s two bodyguards laid passed out in the plastic chairs, and naked women scattered the floor at my feet. I walked around them and turned down the hallway before I pushed open the door of the back room. The boom of the door bouncing off the wall echoed, awaking Dex and his one night stand. “Get the fuck out,” I ordered the black-headed slapper through clenched teeth. She scurried from the bed, collected her clothing from the floor, and breezed past me.
“Awe, you didn’t have to go and make her leave, Oliver. She could have stayed.” Dex smirked, and my rage pushed me forward until I had him lifted out of the bed and slammed against the wall. “You have a lot of nerve,” he was able to get out before my fist swiped his jaw, whipping his head to the side.
“What I am is impatient,” I pulled him back up by his biceps and pinned his arms to the wall considering I had nothing else to hold his shirtless body by, “What are you not telling me?”
Dex Sullivan was many things, but a fighter wasn’t one of them. The only time he held power was when a pistol was in his hand—aside from threats. A weapon was his single source of intimidation. And at the moment, he didn’t have a chance to grab one. He may have been powerless, but I wasn’t. Something I’d tried to teach the other three boys these past few days. It was no coincidence the way humans were created, and by learning how to fight, I’d become my most valuable weapon.
I slammed another fist into his grin, knocking his tooth out, and it embedded into my knuckle.
“Scott bought two tickets to the states and boarded a plane in Liverpool yesterday,” Dex rushed out with a mouthful of blood.
A burn crept behind my eyes as relief set into my soul. “Where in the states?” My voice cracked from emotion.
“You can’t leave, baby O.”
My hand moved over his neck, and Dex, like the pussy boy he was without his backup, withered in my hold. “Where did he go?” I screamed, my cheeks shaking and spit flying.
Dex’s eyes widened, and he croaked something out, but I couldn’t understand, so I loosened my grip from around his neck.
“New York,” he finally said in a gathered breath. “He flew into JFK.”
I let him go, and he collapsed to the floor. “He traveled with a companion,” he croaked out as I walked away. “Mia Rose Jett.” And the mention of my love’s name managed to crack me open and spin me around to face him. A cackle slipped from his bloody lips. “You’re not done, White Fox. This isn’t over, not until you hold up your end of the deal.”
I PRIED my eyelids apart to see the Hilton logo plastered over the ice bucket and plastic cups of the small kitchen, reminding me of where we were. Finally, back in the states. I was so close to my dad’s house, a little over two hours to be exact, but my dad didn’t care to see me. Ethan’s constant reminders told me so.
A strong arm draped over my side. I inched away from Ethan’s hold for a quick shower before he would wake and searched inside the duffle for a pair of sweats, clean panties, and one of Ethan’s plain tees he wouldn’t need. All my clothes were left at Dolor. I had close to nothing aside from the clothes I wore when he captured me and the few he’d purchased.
The night before, I’d told Ethan that I could try. I’d left it open-ended intentionally, allowing him room to fill in whatever missing pieces he needed. Try to get through this, try not to kill him, try to trust him. Over and over, Ethan drilled into my head how he was the only one who ever cared about me. The evidence laid out before my eyes, and my mind agreed, but my heart refused to listen. No one was looking for me. No one else cared. The only reason I’d gotten on that plane was because if Ollie was looking out for himself, I had to do the same.
I had to start thinking about me. I had to put myself first. I had to learn to live without Ollie though it hurt like hell.
Despite what Ollie had done, it still brought me peace to know he was living the dream he deserved. He gave me a sense of myself over the last two years, pulled me out from a dark hole, was the first to show me who I was, and what I was capable of. Oliver Masters, regardless if he tossed me to the side to go after his dream, gave me something I needed during one of the most challenging times of my life. Oliver Masters gave me something to hold on to for a lifetime.
But the distance didn’t make it hurt any less.
If Ollie was able to do it, maybe I could too.
And Ethan was the answer.
Ethan killed people—numerous people, which I found intriguing. I had so many questions for him. Did it bring him a sense of serenity like it had brought me when I’d killed my uncle? Did he have monstrous thoughts too, punishing those who’d destroyed him? Did he feel empowered, being the one in control? Did the void in their eyes give him the same high as it did me? So many questions, and maybe Ethan was right, and we were the same.
The shower was hot against my back. The little Hilton travel-sized shampoo and conditioner smelled of rain in the spring, feminine. Very different from the coconut smell at Dolor, and the masculine scent I’d been using of Ethan’s lately.
The clothes hung off my tiny frame, but I didn’t care, assuming we’d spend the day in the car anyway. Ethan had planned everything out, and by the looks of the vehicle, new identities, and cash found in the glovebox, we weren’t flying anywhere else. At least for a while.
My hair was still damp, but I couldn’t pull it up off my back because I had no hair tie. When I walked back toward the bed, Ethan sat awake on the edge of the bed staring at me.
“How did you sleep?” he asked, still wearing the same clothes from yesterday. We were too tired to change, and apparently, he was too tired to take anything off. Ethan rarely slept in his clothes.
“Okay,” I dropped the wet towel in the corner of the room, “I need to borrow a pair of your socks.”
“You can take whatever you want from the bag, Jett. I see you’re already wearing my shirt,” he raised a brow and stood to his feet, “Anyway, I’m taking a quick shower then we have to head out. We’ll get breakfast on the way.”
“Where are we going?”
He paused halfway to the bathroom at my side and looked down at me. “It’s best if you don’t know.”
While Mia was in the shower, I’d rang Dean. Thankfully, he had picked up because I needed someone I looked up to for answers. I needed direction. The last thing I wanted to admit to my friend was that I’d tore Mia away, and she’d never agreed to any of this until last night. Dean hadn’t held back and chewed my arse out. I’d never heard him so angry. When it came to love and relationships, the man reminded me of Masters. A few minutes into the call, I’d grown frustrated with how the conversation was going and hung up. Fuck him. But Dean was right. Regardless of whether I liked it or not, it was what I needed to hear.
Mia stood at my side as we checked out of the hotel. I’d promised to keep her safe, but all I’d done was break her down entirely only to build her into my version of perfection. I wanted her mine. All of her. Both the storm and the compliant little puppet. I was almost there too, feeding on how fucked up she was. I’d turned her against the entire world for my benefit. Most of it had been true, though. In all honesty, I had no idea why Lynch, Bruce, nor Masters were out looking for her. But I’d used it to my advantage.