No. That’s too far. If I don’t stop, I might scare her off.
I pull away first, shoving my hand down my swim shorts to cover how hard I am. “You forgot the ice, Freckles.”
She slips off the counter. To my own pleasure, she smiles as she bites her lip, the same one I had between my teeth. “Show me where it is.”
I grin as I follow her out of the kitchen, watching her ass from behind.
I lied when I said I’d leave her alone. She’s feeding into my obsession, and it’s only going to get worse. This is only the beginning.
14
KADE
Iblink away the blurriness in my eyes, sitting up against the door of the bathroom. The light blinds me, the headache edging close to being unbearable.
A knock sounds at the door. “Kade?”
I close my eyes and ignore her, the ache in my temples growing. I lean forward and take a deep breath before grabbing my phone and bringing up my messages.
Trembling fingers fly over my screen as I send a text to my mum.
Me: Are you still with Dad?
She sees it right away, but my vision blurs so badly that I rub my palm into both eyes. I only took two lines earlier, not the full bag, but I feel like I’m seconds from passing out from another overdose.
If I black out and think of Stacey again, I’m going to be more than pissed.
Mum: Yes, sweetheart. Do you want to talk to him? Is everything okay?
Me: Yeah. I’ll call in ten.
I wash my face with more force than necessary, ignoring another knock on the door. My lungs are struggling for air, a painful ringing in my ears so intense I’m surprised there’s no blood spilling from them.
I grip the edge of the sink and drop my head, knees trembling.
Something is sitting on my chest – crushing it.
My car keys are sitting next to my washbag, so I take them – and immediately drop them on the marble floor. “Fuck,” I mutter.
Stacey’s soft voice annoyingly soothes me. “Kade? Are you okay? You can talk to me.” She’s right there, on the other side of the door. “I’m sorry.”
I groan into my palms. She better fuck off.
I put my head under the running tap to soak my hair in ice-cold water then dry it with a towel, but I feel no better for it.
Whatever is rushing through my body is crippling me – my hands are cramping, there are tingles all over my face and the last thing I’m going to do is ask her for help.
“We won’t make this awkward. I know it meant nothing, okay? We can forget it happened if it makes you feel better. Come out and we can watch a movie or something.”
Jesus, why can’t I just fucking breathe ?
I bring up my messages again, staring at the most recent ones from Bernadette.
Bernadette: I sent you a contact to deal with while you wait for your flight. No mess – do you understand?
Bernadette: Are you at the hotel alone?
Me: Yeah.
Bernadette: Two hours, Kade. This has a big payment for the both of us – don’t fuck it up.
My response to her, not even an hour later, was confirmation that the job had been completed and a picture of the guy’s head. Although I’d intentionally made quite the mess for her to clean. The target was an abusive wanker. He deserved it.
Bile rises in my throat to go with the anxiety riddling me right now.
Stacey’s sitting on the bed, legs crossed and looking worried when I exit the bathroom. I grab my bag and throw it over my shoulder.
“Kade.”
She’s up and coming towards me now. I dodge her hand.
“Don’t fucking touch me.” The words are strangled and forced.
“Where are you going?” She stops in the middle of the room. “Talk to me. Don’t make this awkward.”
I don’t respond as I slam the door shut and make sure it’s locked. I quickly message Barry and tell him to put a guard outside the room. He confirms instantly.
I nod to one of my team as I leave the hotel reception; outside, a black SUV holds more of my guys waiting for instructions. Wherever I go, they’re always nearby.
Always watching my back. Always on alert. Always waiting .
When I drop into the driver’s seat of my R8, I shake my head at the scent of her everywhere.
Can I not escape her? One – she’s my ex. Two – she’s my sister’s best friend and always there. Three – she’s coming to America. Four – I’m stuck in a damn hotel room with her.
And five – the biggest mindfuck of the year – I want to go back and screw her brains out, to hear her moan my name again, to feel her skin beneath my hands and the taste of her on my tongue.
I press my forehead to the steering wheel to rid all the thoughts and call to mind the video – the one that started all of this – thankfully losing the semi that was growing.
Mum answers on the second ring. “Hello, sweetheart. We have ten minutes before the visitation ends.”
We do the whole back and forth on how the day has been while I try focus. It’s sunny over there, raining here. Luciella has argued with Base all morning, and she can’t wait to see us.
She whispers something to my dad: “I’ll go to the bathroom and give you two some peace.”
My lungs are still on fucking fire. “Thanks, Mum.”
There’re a few seconds of silence.
“Kade?” the deep, threatening voice rumbles through the phone.
As much as the world is terrified of Tobias Mitchell, he’s my dad. He has his issues, and a terrible past, but I’m not much better. I’ve taken over one hundred lives in only two years, whereas he’s killed four people.
He has the excuse of not understanding right from wrong, but I know fine well what I’m doing when I track a person down and make them bleed and beg for mercy .
“Dad…” I stop, a lump strangling me. Everything is hitting me at once.
“Son?”
My eyes close. “Can… Can anyone hear me?”
“Just me.”
I grit my teeth, unsure how much I can say. He doesn’t know that I’m tied to Bernadette and her fucked-up world, and I don’t think even the institution could keep him on a leash if he found out.
He would start with Archie, and decapitate him while Bernie watched in horror. I want to be the one to end her though.
The crushing pressure against my chest amplifies, and I’m certain my team sitting in the SUV across the car park can see me hunching over my steering wheel.
I take as much of a deep breath as I can. “We missed our flight. The next one is tomorrow.” I pause, gulping, sweat breaking out all over me. “We need to share a hotel room with only one fucking bed.”
“Language.” He sighs. “What did you do?”
“Too much.” I manage another gulp as sweat drips down the side of my face. “Dad… I can’t breathe properly and my… my chest is killing me. My lips are tingling and so are my hands. The way it used to happen when I was a kid.”
We haven’t talked in a long time. Nearly two years. But I know he can talk me out of this. He always did before.
Dad hums, and a few seconds go by. I can hear the thundering of my erratic heartbeat in my ears. “Can you see?”
My jaw clenches and unclenches repeatedly, fingers obsessively tapping on my steering wheel. The coke should be slowly leaving my system now. “Yeah. I can see. ”