Page 24

CHAPTER 24

Ford

I pull out of her, rubbing my cock through the mix of our cum, fixated on the sight and memorizing every inch of her. I grab a paper towel and hand it to her.

I feel the moment her anger returns, it’s a palpable tension around her. I can’t say I had the intention of fucking her senseless in here, especially with almost everyone we know being here, but it happens so quickly every time. I internally reprimand myself because I don’t want Billie to feel like I’m using her to sate my vices, but I can’t control myself around her. I tried to seem unfazed by Matthew and her speaking, but the moment she seemed amused by something he said, it stomped on my last fucking nerve. He’s lucky he’s not leaving in a body bag and the only reason I was able to refrain was because I promised her this would be a secret. If I killed the man talking to her, then it’d be pretty fucking obvious.

She turns around and starts wiping between her legs as I take care of my own cleanup. When she finally raises those stunning eyes to me, I know she’s mad.

But selfishly, I love it when she’s mad. It makes me want to fuck her all over again.

“So let me get this right. You want what’s between my legs but don’t want me?” she says.

I want her. Of course, I want her, But not the way she wants me to want her. I can’t allow myself that luxury of an alternative world where she could be mine. But, fuck, I wish I could rein in my impulses. The moment she stepped into the club in that red dress, I wanted to tear it off her. I was lucky I was able to restrain myself enough to not actually do it.

I wouldn’t even give a shit as to who might notice what’s going on between us. But she wants us to remain a secret. I just want her. But I can’t tell her that. Can’t give her hope. And I’m a selfish bastard for calling her in here. But I was fucking jealous. I either had to mark and fuck her or kill that fucker. Both are unreasonable reactions. Both were equally tempting.

“I want you,” I growl, meeting her eyes as she stares me down. My response only makes her angrier. I won’t let her move on, but I won’t give her what she wants, either.

I’m the actual fucking worst.

The more I push her, the more I hope she’ll finally end this thing. It’ll be like cutting off a limb, but I’ll manage… I think. I’ve overcome addictions before. I just don’t have the self-control to stop supplying myself with this one.

She laughs, the sound menacing and vile. That’s my girl.

I can sense it coming before she even says it. And although I knew it’d feel like a noose around my neck, it does nothing to lessen the impact of her words.

“It’s over between us. This was the last fuck you’ll get from me,” she says, as I throw the towel in the trash and then zip my pants up. Her dress is already perfectly readjusted, the slit running up the side showing off her sexy fucking legs. Everything about her is perfect.

We’re both hypocrites. She tells me she needs more. And in the next breath, she’s telling me we’re done. And I do everything I can to solidify her resolve for her.

I smile, and I can tell it absolutely fucking infuriates her. “Is it?” I ask cockily.

She slaps me across the face. Hard. My cock twitches excitedly, but I make sure not to react. She’s furious, tears welling in her eyes as that savage rage boils over. “Yes, it is. And forget about texting me. We’re done.”

She turns then and throws the towel over my head, missing the bin. She curses and pulls open the door, poking her head out first to make sure no one is there before she slips out.

A fucked-up mix of relief and nausea sets low in my stomach. I want to chase after her, but I know better than to do that. I don’t deserve Billie. I never did. We only got together because she had a need. And maybe I did pity her a little at the start. I know what it’s like to be trapped in a cage, not of your own making. My brother and I never deserved to be on the streets, barely surviving. And I saw the same frustration in her gaze—frustration at her brother’s suffocating overprotectiveness.

I pick up her discarded towel and toss it in the trash, and then I wait a while for the red on my cheek to fade. When I exit the bathroom, one of the dancers is standing there, and she smiles at me.

“Heeey, handsome,” she says, slurring a little. I’ve seen her before but never cared to remember her name. “Need a hand in there?” She flicks her gaze to the bathroom. I ignore her and push past her, a cold disdain radiating from me because I don’t crave any woman other than the one I just purposely pushed away.

I notice Billie at the bar talking with Ivy and that Matthew prick. She looks like nothing happened, and I try my hardest to distract myself from glancing in her direction or doing something I’ll regret, like killing Matthew. I liked him before, and even worked with him twice. But the moment he held out his hand to Billie in introduction was the moment I swore I’d kill him one day.

Eli is sitting on a couch, Jewel perched on his lap, as they talk with Hawke, who has a blonde sitting on his own lap. He frequents this place enough that he has a favorite dancer. I don’t have the heart to tell her he has favorites everywhere.

I pull out my phone and lean against the wall. Dutton walks over, muttering something under his breath as Posie joins Billie and the others. He looks like he’s about to kill me as he comes to a stop in front of me.

I wonder if this is the time. Has he finally found out about me and Billie?

Did his fiancée tell him what she stumbled across months ago?

Oddly enough, I find myself welcoming the repercussions.

“What?” I ask him.

“No one deserves her. No one,” he says and throws a look Billie’s way.

He doesn’t know about us, then. Because if he did, he would’ve already tried to kill me. To him, everyone is a piece of shit, and she’s his baby sister. At first, I found it weird he was so protective of her. But then I thought about Hawke and how if someone hurt him, I wouldn’t hesitate to kill them.

Her being a woman in this world makes it worse. It’s rough, especially when everyone knows their family name. They all know who she is. I find her shackles ironically part of her draw for a lot of people, and I can’t fucking stand it. I wonder how many of them get to see the true fiery side of her.

“Then shall we tie him up tonight and carve a message into his chest?” I ask, doing my best to sound bored. We all have our “soothing” methods, and Dutton favors the blade. I’m not going to judge him for it, even if one day he uses it against me. Then again, I most likely won’t ever lay another hand on his sister.

“No,” Dutton growls. “If it were you out there trying to win my sister over, I would kill you. Wouldn’t even second-guess it. But Posie keeps on telling me Matthew is fine, and I need to let Billie decide.” He looks back in the direction he came from, and I do as well. His words sink in. I’m not scared of Dutton, but he’s a man I respect. And he has given me respect in return, so I thought we were good. But it’s another reminder that I’ll never be viewed as anything more than that street rat. And although I’d come to terms with that a long time ago, it doesn’t do anything to steer me away from the one thing I really want.

Billie laughs, and I can’t fucking stand it. Can’t stand that she’s laughing at another man or looking in his direction.

“You good?” Dutton asks, and I snap out of my thoughts, my phone cracking under the force I was holding it with.

“Perfect,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm.

“Since you’re not drinking, you can drive Billie and Ivy home. I’m not letting that fucker drive her home the first night.”

I go to argue, but I know doing so will make Dutton suspicious, considering I’ve done it so many times before. I want to leave, vanish from this place, because I know I’ll only last a few more minutes before I actually break that guy’s fucking neck.

“Ford.” Eli is calling me over to him.

“He most likely wants to ask about the poisonings. Are you any closer to figuring that out?” Dutton asks as we walk over together.

“Not yet,” I tell him. We’re all on high alert because it might not just be Eli they target. Anyone associated with him could be in danger, too.

Eli and Jewel are standing close to one another, and I can tell that Eli’s gone into his killer mode.

They’ve found something.

Or, most likely, some one .

“Will was able to track down someone suspicious the security guard had been in contact with days before his death.”

My phone buzzes. A document has been shared to my device. It’s a photo of a guy named Henry Fall. My eyebrows furrow as I read the information on him.

“He used to work for Laurence Tate,” Hawke says. Our gazes meet, and we share a silent thought. Tate is the guy we killed to get Anya her ring. Fuck . We brought trouble for Eli.

Eli’s gaze ping-pongs between us, knowing when Hawke and I are having silent conversations. Then Hawke opens his mouth and shares the missing link. The strangeness of the situation is the bouncer at Eli’s club was never in association with any guys from the wharf. So, potentially, there’s more than one person involved with this. The only way we’ll find out is by torture, of course. Thank fuck because I need something to replace this ravenous desire.