Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Vincent Douglas knows by now that Mercedes survived his attack. So why hasn’t he sent another message? Another threat?
According to Ezra, Douglas is a steelworker at a company in Baton Rouge. He’s quiet, keeps to himself, and they’ve never had trouble with him. He shows up for work, does his job, and goes home.
A few weeks ago, though, Douglas quit without notice and simply disappeared. I’ve had men at his apartment, a small, basic accommodation. Cleaner than I expected. He had paid rent for the following month, according to the landlord. For a small fee, however, he was willing to let us into Douglas’s apartment where his things still were, including photos of himself with his sister. A lot of photos. They were close. Further investigation into Lana’s life proved that. They grew up together in foster care. Close enough in age, they managed to stay together until Lana turned fifteen and Vincent sixteen.
That’s where there’s a hole in Vincent’s history. A sealed record. One I was able to access given my position. And the story is one I’ve heard too often. Trouble with a foster parent for Lana. Vincent got involved. He was getting to be a big guy by then. The parent was beaten badly, and both Vincent and Lana were removed from the home. Vincent spent the next two years in juvenile detention while Lana went to another home.
Once he was out of juvie, she ran away, and I imagine they lived together. She was almost eighteen by then. There are blips of their lives over the next few years. Working odd jobs to get by. Neither of them had friends. And then Lana came to work at the Cat House, and Vincent stayed in Baton Rouge. One letter that had been ripped apart and then taped back together tells of their deteriorating relationship. His disapproval of her choice of profession. Her apologies. That was more recent than I liked, and I have a feeling he came to see her and found her apartment empty. It would have been cleaned by then. And somehow, he’s figured out what happened to her. And Mercedes’s role in it. Although he can’t know for certain. But that won’t matter to someone like him. This man is not a man to reason with. He’s become violent when protecting his sister before. And I don’t believe, for a second, he’ll walk away from this.
Men with nothing to lose are the most dangerous of all. And I get the feeling Vincent Douglas has nothing to lose.
“Sir?” Raul enters the dining room, where I’m drinking coffee as I wait for Mercedes to come down after her shower. “I have what you needed.”
He hands me a plain brown paper bag.
“Thank you, Raul.”
“No problem, sir.”
I pocket the phone, set my coffee aside, pour a mug for Mercedes, and head upstairs to my bedroom. The shower is still going when I enter, so I sit on the bed to wait. The door is open, but it’s so steamy she doesn’t see me as I watch her silhouette.
I need to be careful with her now. I’ve already gone too far. I had when I touched her at all because even in those first days, she was different from any other. I knew it all along. Maybe before I even took custody of her.
But what happened in the punishment room? And in the hours following? That was just fucking irresponsible if not outright stupid. She’s not on birth control, and I should know better. But the image of her on her knees before me, my cock stuffed down her throat as mascara ruined her perfect face? Fuck. It’s burned itself into my memory, and I’m hard at the thought.
The water switches off, and I blink out of my reverie. I get up to grab a towel. She is momentarily surprised to see me, then smiles warmly up to me, eyes soft, her expression open. I’m not sure any man or woman has seen this side of her. Well, outside of Solana and Georgie at least.
“Hey,” she says as I drape the towel over her shoulders. She sets her wet hands on my shoulders to balance on tiptoe and plants a kiss on my mouth.
That’s another thing. I kissed her. And I find myself kissing her again now. I don’t kiss women. Ever. I fuck them. We both get what we want out of it, and I leave. But Mercedes? Kissing is an intimacy I need like air when it comes to her. And if I'm not careful, she will destroy me.
Would it be some comfort to her to know this? I doubt it.
“Mercedes.” I break our kiss.
She looks confused, a little hurt. But then she grins as her hand finds my erection, and with a groan, I drag her off.