She screams my fucking name.
I let go of the knife and hiss a little at the release of pressure. The cut in the center of my palm’s pretty deep, but I’m not gonna hang around to investigate it right now. We’re down to our last minute before Lacey starts leaning on the car horn. Plus, I don’t know why but Sloane calling out for me has made me want to completely forget the timeframe I gave Lacey and stay here with Sloane all fucking night. Make her call out for me again.
I get to my feet and Sloane remains on the floor, naked, in a tangle of arms and legs. She looks like she can barely move. Her eyes seem glazed, as though she can barely see. I feel an immense surge of pride. Yeah. I make that puddle of a human being. I place the vibrator back in the bag, along with Sloane’s panties—I said I was going to keep them—and she raises an eyebrow at me. She doesn’t object, though.
“You’d better hurry,” she says, her eyes focusing on me. I love that she doesn’t cover herself up from me; I love that we’re past that.
“Don’t worry. I’m gone,” I growl. I clench my fist into a ball, letting the pain rattle through my nerve endings. Enjoying it. I feel like telling her I’ll see her later, but Sloane doesn’t know she’ll be calling tonight and asking me to get her, so I don’t say that. Instead, I say, “Where’d you learned to clear a building like that?”
She laughs, closing her eyes. “Where d’you think? Call of Duty.”
Ha! This girl is one of a kind. I let out a sharp laugh, and then I turn and I go. My hard-on is causing me some serious fucking grief as I walk away from Sloane’s naked, perfect fucking body. It’s killing me, but when you’re out of time, you’re out of time. Besides, being denied the opportunity to sink your dick into a girl like Sloane can only make the waiting sweeter. She’s a girl worth waiting for. I mean, come on. Call of fucking Duty? I don’t know a single girl on the face of the planet who plays CoD. That last little tidbit has me entertained right up until I get outside the house and I see that Lacey is pulling a sour face at me out of her window.
“You’re nineteen seconds late,” she informs me, as I get in the car. Despite the front seat now being vacant, Lacey’s remained in the back as always. “You’ve never been late.”
“I’ve been late plenty of times, Lace.” I turn the engine over, pulling in a sharp breath when I forget all about my hand, which is bleeding copiously everywhere, and I try to grip onto the steering wheel. Looks like I’ll be one-handing it back to the warehouse.
I know Lacey notices that I’m bleeding; she notices everything, but she doesn’t say anything. Not until she comes out with this little gem.
“You are so in love with that girl.”
I glance at her in the rearview, intending on sending her the most hateful look ever concocted by a man, but instead I catch sight of Sloane’s house disappearing into the trees behind us. My stomach twists a little as it vanishes from sight.
“I don’t love her,” I say. “I don’t love anyone.”
Lacey makes a soft sound of laughter over my shoulder. “Of course you do. You love me. And now you love Sloane, too.” She sighs softly, finishing her outrageous statement with a few distracted words that make my head spin. “You see, once you open up your heart to one person, Zeth…it’s so much easier for others to slip in unnoticed, too.”
There’s a note taped to the warehouse entrance when we get home.
The prodigal son returneth. Come by whenever you’re ready. We’ll kill the fatted calf.
C.
I have no idea how Charlie knows I’m back already, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to hide it. The bastard never showed an interest in where I was living once I moved out of his place twelve years ago, but if he’s been fucking spying on me then it’s reasonable to assume he’s known about the warehouse for a long time. Years, I’m sure. I rip the note from the door and go inside, fuming.
Come by whenever you’re ready. Yeah, right. That’s clearly an invitation. Charlie letting me know he’s ready and waiting for me. Well, guess what, asshole? You won’t be ready for what I’m fucking bringing.
I throw down my duffel and the bag I’ve brought in for Lace, and then I start stalking around the warehouse, calculating. I don’t realize the note is still screwed up in my hand until Lacey takes it from me. She carries it to the sofa, where she wraps herself up in her favorite blanket, and then she reads it.
“Do you know about the prodigal son?” she asks.