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25

EDEN

I notice the police cruiser pulling up to the carnival entrance. Two officers step out, their eyes scanning the grounds with purpose. I recognize that look—they’re here with questions.

“Ms. Love?” One of them approaches me. “We received some concerning tips about your safety during your investigation here.”

I maintain my professional demeanor, the same one I use for my podcast. “Officers, what’s this about? Is something wrong?”

Movement catches my eye as Remy approaches. His presence is commanding even from a distance. He reaches us, standing close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from him.

“Everything alright here?” His voice carries that subtle edge of authority.

“These officers were following up on some concerns about my safety,” I explain, turning to face the officers again. “I appreciate the check-in, but I can assure you I’m perfectly fine. I’m still working on gathering material for my next podcast episode about carnival culture and community.”

The older officer studies me. “You’re certain there’s no trouble, Ms. Love? The tips we received were pretty specific about potential dangers.”

“I appreciate the concern,” I say, letting my podcaster voice shine through—calm, controlled, professional. “But I’m a thorough investigator. I always ensure my safety while pursuing stories. The carnival has been nothing but accommodating for my research.”

Remy’s presence beside me adds weight to my words. The officers exchange glances, clearly weighing my response against their intel.

I feel my pulse quicken but maintain my composure as the older officer pulls out his notepad. “We’ve tracked multiple disappearances along the carnival’s route over the past year. Too many to be a coincidence.”

Remy shifts beside me as two officers approach his trailer. I recognize the stance it’s casual but ready.

“Mind if we take a look around?” The younger officer gestures at the trailer.

“Got a warrant?” Remy’s voice is neutral, polite but firm.

“Not at the moment,” the older officer says, “but that can be arranged.”

I keep quiet, my mind racing to Jessica, my producer. She’s been blowing up my phone lately, concerned about my “unhealthy obsession” with the carnival story. Last week, she threatened to report me missing if I didn’t “come to my senses.” Knowing Jessica, she’s probably been hounding the local PD.

“Feel free to come back when you have one,” Remy says, maintaining his composure.

The officers leave without further comment, but their presence has shifted something in the air. The cruiser pulls away, kicking up dust as it disappears down the access road.

I follow Remy to Tyson’s office, my steps measured and calm despite my racing thoughts.

“Fucking cops,” Remy growls the moment he steps inside, pacing the small space.

Tyson looks up from his desk, his expression darkening. “What happened?”

“Snooping,” Remy says. “They wanted to look in my trailer. I asked if they had a warrant, possibly a miscalculation on my part, but it’s not like I could let them in.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Fuck. There’s too much evidence of Eden’s captivity.”

Ty grabs his cell phone and dials a number, putting it on speaker.

“What’s up, boss?” a voice asks on the other end.

“Phoenix, I need you to investigate the local police department’s intentions regarding the carnival. They wanted to look around Remy’s trailer. We need to know their plans and whether they intend to get a warrant to search the place.”

“Shit.” Tyson runs a hand through his hair. “We need to move the?—”

“Wait,” I interrupt, my mind racing. “I might have a solution.”

Both men turn to look at me, Remy’s eyes narrowing.

“My podcast has a huge following. I could release an episode tonight about carnival discrimination—how law enforcement often targets carnivals without cause—paint them as prejudiced against carnival workers.”

Tyson leans forward, interested. “Go on.”

“I have evidence from other cases where police harassed carnival workers without justification. I can weave those stories with what I’ve observed here—hard-working people being profiled simply because they live differently.”

“It could work,” Tyson muses. “Public pressure might make them back off.”

“Plus,” I add, “I can hint at following leads in another state and make it seem like the real story is elsewhere.”

Remy’s anger shifts to something else; he almost looks… proud. He moves behind me, his hand settling possessively on my neck.

“Our podcaster is becoming useful,” he murmurs.

Tyson nods. “Do it. I’ll have Nash and Lars handle the other preparations, just in case.”

I feel a surge of belonging as they include me in their plans. This is what I’ve wanted, to be part of something illicit and dark. However, the desire to protect someone I care about is a new sensation, as I’ve never had anyone to care about.

“I’ll need more of my equipment from the motel,” I say. “I can have the episode ready in two hours.”

“I’ll drive you,” Remy says, his keys already in hand.

My heart races as we walk to his van, the tension crackling between us. The moment we’re inside, his hand wraps around my throat before I can even reach for my seatbelt. The pressure is firm but controlled as he pulls me toward him.

His lips crash into mine, hungry and demanding. The kiss steals my breath, making me dizzy. When he finally pulls back, his grip on my throat tightens just enough to make me gasp.

“Such a good girl,” he growls against my lips. “Using that clever mind of yours to protect us—to protect me.”

“I’ll protect you,” I whisper against his lips, and the words shock me with their truth. “Your secrets are safe with me. Always.”

The weight of my promise hits me hard. Just months ago, I was hunting stories like this, exposing killers to my listeners. Now, I’m actively working to mislead investigators, planning to use my platform—my credibility—to point suspicion away from the carnival. The thought should terrify me. Instead, I feel a twisted thrill at my carefully crafted reputation becoming the perfect smokescreen.

But doubt creeps in. Can I maintain this deception? One slip, one inconsistency in my story, and everything could unravel. My entire career has been built on exposing lies like the ones I’m about to tell.

The intensity in Remy’s eyes turns softer—a look that seems reserved for me flickers beneath the surface. His grip on my throat loosens, sliding to cup my face instead. At this moment, despite my fears, I know I’ve crossed a line I can never uncross—and I don’t want to go back.

His groan vibrates through me, sending heat straight to my pussy. My gaze drops to the obvious bulge straining against his jeans. I can’t help but run my palm over him, feeling him twitch beneath my touch.

“Need some help with this?” I trace the outline of his cock through the denim.

My fingers find his belt buckle, and I work it open with anticipation. The metal clinks as I pull the leather belt free.

“Right here in the van?” His voice is rough.

“We have time.” I slide the zipper down. “Let me take care of you.”

I slide my hand into Remy’s jeans, wrapping my fingers around his thick length. His sharp intake of breath makes me smile. The power I feel in this moment while pleasuring this dangerous man who holds so much control over me is utterly thrilling.

“Fuck,” he hisses as I stroke him, my grip firm but teasing.

I lean in closer, breathing in his scent—sweat and leather. “Let me show you how grateful I am. For trusting me and letting me help.”

His hand tangles in my hair, grip tightening as I bring my lips to his cock. The van’s confined space makes everything more intense and more intimate. His cock pulses in my hand, rock hard and leaking.

I take him into my mouth, savoring his groan of pleasure. His grip on my hair tightens, guiding my movements as I tease him with my tongue. The taste of him, the weight of his cock against my tongue, makes my pussy beg for attention.

“Such an eager slut,” Remy growls, his hips bucking slightly. “Always so desperate to please me.”

My core throbs at his words, and I moan around him. The vibration makes him curse, his fingers flexing in my hair. I take him deeper, hollowing my cheeks as I suck. The van’s windows add to the intensity—anyone could walk by and see us.

His breathing grows ragged as I pleasure him with my mouth and hand. I can feel him getting close, his thighs tensing beneath my touch. The power I feel is intoxicating—this dangerous man coming undone because of me.

“Fuck, Eden,” he groans, grabbing the lever between his knees to recline back in the chair, allowing me to get better access. “Look at me while you suck my cock.”

I lift my gaze to meet his, never breaking rhythm. The shadows in his eyes make me shiver. This is what I’ve always craved—this connection with someone who understands my twisted psyche.

His cock pulses against my tongue as I maintain eye contact. I know he’s close; I can feel how his body tenses. The hand in my hair tightens painfully, holding me exactly where he wants me.

“That’s it, beautiful,” he pants. “Show me how much you want it.”

I double my efforts, taking him as deep as I can. His groans of pleasure fill the van, sending fresh waves of arousal through me. I’m so wet, so desperate for him, but right now, this is about showing him how valuable I can be in every way.

I feel Remy’s cock pulse against my tongue as his grip tightens in my hair. His breath comes in harsh pants above me, his control slipping. His taste and his weight in my mouth make me dizzy with need. I hollow my cheeks, taking him deeper, wanting to prove my devotion.

“Fuck,” he groans. “I’m going to fill that pretty mouth.”

His release hits the back of my throat, hot and thick. I swallow eagerly, not wanting to waste a drop. His fingers flex in my hair as he empties himself, holding me in place until he’s finished.

When he finally releases my hair, I sit back, wiping my mouth with my hand. His eyes are dark as he tucks himself away, zipping up his jeans.

“Such a good girl,” he says, running his thumb across my lower lip. “Now, let’s get your equipment and make that podcast. Show those cops what happens when they mess with us.”

The praise sends shivers down my spine. I’ve never felt more alive than I do now, using my skills to protect Remy and being part of his dangerous world. Remy starts the van, and I catch his reflection in the side mirror—the subtle curve of his lips, the possessive glint in his eyes.

This is what I’ve been searching for all my life. Not just studying the dark side of humanity but being embraced by it—being claimed by it.

The van rumbles to life, and we pull away from the carnival grounds. My mind is already racing with ideas for the podcast, ways to weave truth and misdirection into a compelling narrative that will throw the police off our trail.