Page 30 of Carved Obsession (The Sanctum Syndicate #4)

Scarlet

“Scarlet!”

The visceral notes in that scream make me pause. Concern at the edge of desperation weaves through, and I frown, utterly confused since that certainly does not sound like who I thought it would be.

Who the fuck is in this car?

“Yes?” I bend down to look through the broken window.

“Jesus Christ, woman!” The answer comes out startled.

“It was you?” I shriek when I’m met with motherfucking Carter Pierce hanging by his seatbelt. “For fuck’s sake! What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were—”

Bernard . I genuinely thought it was him trying to scare me off.

“How many houses have you broken into tonight?” The pause in his words is charged with dark promises. “Who were you expecting?”

“Just two,” I say, the giddiness in my tone shielding the slight unease I feel.

He doesn’t reply, only pins me down with that frigid stare of his.

“I’d ask why you’re following me, but I guess you’re much quicker at solving puzzles than I thought.”

Over the heavy rain, I’m not sure I heard it right, but I could have sworn he growled.

“Yes, I’ve become quite experienced,” he mutters.

If looks could cut, his would have me split in half.

This impromptu meeting is inconvenient. I had a plan, a good one I’ve been working on since I decided to fuck with him. It would have ended beautifully, and potentially peacefully too. Now...I have to adapt.

“Bet you had a bit of fun, though.” I wink.

He narrows his eyes for a split second and shakes his head. “A hand, if you will?”

“Now, why should I help you? You want to kill me, after all.”

“May I point out that I stopped following you, and you rammed into me?”

Fair, but still.

“Promise you won’t kill me,” I say.

His answer is a deep, malevolent growl buried so low in his chest, it threatens to shake the earth beneath my feet.

“Pro—”

“I promise.”

Okay, that was easier than I thought it would be.

“Say please,” I push, pursing my lips.

He narrows his eyes on me, but from this upside-down angle, he looks fucking hilarious.

“Scarlet.” A threatening rumble laces his tone, hitting low and deep inside my belly, with a fiery undertone.

“Yes, Carter.”

His nostrils flare as he blinks slowly, running his tongue over his top teeth. “Would you please give me a hand?”

“Sure thing!” I drop to my knees, giggling and grinning from ear to ear, much to his exasperation. “Here, I’ll brace you.”

I slide my shoulder under his, ignoring the jarring pressure in my torso as I push up with as much force as I can muster, until I hear a click.

“Got it.”

He didn’t need to say it. His weight barrels down on me, and I scamper backward, falling on my ass. He thuds to the floor—well, technically it’s the ceiling of his car—before he slides out, caking his suit in mud. My ass is soaking in it too, since I’m in a whole puddle of it.

I could probably wash myself off in this rain, the downpour’s so heavy.

He rises, attempting to swipe the mud off of his trousers before he straightens, towering before me.

Wet, disheveled strands of hair fall on the right side of his head.

His suit clings to raw, taut muscles, his eyes wild with something I can’t quite put my finger on.

Lightning splits the sky behind him, rumbling clouds explode, and before them, Carter looks like the vicious god ruling them all.

My chest rises and falls on heavy, ragged breaths, and water runs over my face as I seem to be stuck to this spot.

He reaches for me, his hand outstretched, and all I can do is stare at it, wondering if it means more than I think it does.

Finally, I grab it, but when he pulls me up, I slide in the mud and land right against him. Our bodies are lined up, his arms wrapped around me, and my inability to breathe has nothing to do with how tightly he holds me.

“All good?” he asks in a whisper.

Rain slides off of him and onto me. The droplets from his hair hit my lips as I hold his malice-laced gaze. I would take it personally, but that’s his usual expression—cold, devoid of emotions, yet so stunningly beautiful with those hazel eyes drenched in that saturated blue.

It feels too good in his arms—warm, entrapped by the possession I’m sure I’m imagining—but I manage a nod in response.

He seems unaffected as he looks past me, toward my mangled car, and frowns. I know, it’s bad. Really bad. Yet somehow, seeing him here, not Bernard, has made some of that anger toward my ruined, beloved car die down.

“What the fuck were you thinking, Scarlet? What if I was someone else?”

His borderline scolding startles me, and I recoil, head tipping slightly back as I study the phenomenon.

“Umm . . .”

“Umm . . . what if I was undercover police?” he asks.

I frown, lips parting and ready to fight back. Only, like a fish out of water, I shut them and open them all over again as I realize... what if? It never crossed my mind.

“I didn’t—look, I thought you were someone else.”

“Who?” A frown deepens the ridge between his brows.

“It doesn’t matter. Can we please get out of this rain?”

I push against him, but the vise around me tightens, arms pressing me harder into him. I should protest more, or at all, but he’s warm. Surprisingly inviting.

He holds my gaze, looking into my eyes for too many charged moments for me to still believe I’m imagining things. Right here, trapped in his gaze, it feels like I’m skirting the edge of a cliff—perilous, addictive, utterly hedonistic—yet I’m home at the same time.

“I’ll call for someone to pick us up.” He breaks the moment, releasing me.

Picking the pieces of my broken hope off the ground, I nod, and he turns around, dropping to his knees to search through his upside-down car. A shiver pierces my flesh, the absence of his body against mine quite unwelcome.

I turn and go to look for my phone too. I slip several times on the mud and drenched gravel, but thank the gods my car is still the right way up.

“Fuck.” Carter’s swear filters through the battering rain.

“What?” I call out.

There’s a pause before footsteps near.

“No signal.”

Fuck indeed.

That’s not good. Not good at all.

A faint thread of unease snakes around my guts, and I take one controlled, deep breath to dissolve it.

It’s fine. It’s. Fine.

Finally, I find the device under the passenger seat. The screen is cracked, but it still allows me to see the unfortunate situation we’re in.

“Scarlet . . . what is—”

“Oh, no. Oh no! I don’t have any signal either.” I clutch the phone tightly in my hand, that thread of unease coming back with a vengeance, morphing into panic, multiplying, and gripping my insides.

I’m already pacing, feet slapping through the mud as I bite my lip, pressure forming in my temples.

“Scarlet.” Carter’s tone is nothing but wind weaving through the thick raindrops.

“We’re stuck here. No cars. No phone. In the middle of the woods,” I mutter to myself, pacing from one end of the car to the other. “ Fuck . And there’s this damn storm. The cold. Oh god, what will—”

“Scarlet!” He’s on me. Strong hands clutch my shoulders as he turns me to face him.

But I don’t see him. Only a smudge of his beautiful, brutal face. I did this. I brought us here. Caused the crash. Forced us into this situation. I doomed us.

“Look at me!” With his guttural bellow, my focus snaps.

I see him, his eyes shadowed as he looks down at me. My cheeks almost warm as he holds them, forcing my full attention on him.

He doesn’t add to the command, yet I don’t falter either, because it lingers in my mind. My muscles. Somewhere deep in my soul too.

There’s an intimate quality to this moment. Our silence carries through the deafening storm, leaving room for a truth I didn’t allow myself space to acknowledge before. I am obsessed with this man, yes, but more than that...I like him. Really like him.

His thumbs move, brushing slowly, his gaze charged with a restraint that might crack soon, as he forces them away from where his digits reach dangerously close to my lips.

“Scarlet . . .”

“Yes . . .”

One second, I’m convinced he might feel the same, and the next, he blinks and the slight spark I saw through the darkness snaps out of his gaze.

“You’re bleeding.”

“Huh?” I have to blink away the stupor I’ve been trapped in, because his words don’t fully register.

“You’re bleeding.” He looks between us, then lets go of me, taking half a step back before he drops to one knee.

I could get used to this. I snicker to myself.

He fumbles with his phone, the flashlight too bright as he turns it on and aims it at me.

“Oh.” I reach over to where the damage is, but he grabs my wrists, pulling it away.

“You’re dirty. Do not touch it.”

Shit, of course.

“Oh god, where is that from?” My hands tremble as I look down, but in this darkness and with all the pouring rain, I can’t see shit.

I can’t even see blood, only the slight rip in my dark T-shirt, but with the panic threads now gone and Carter’s intoxicating gaze away from mine, my brain finally focuses on that feeling it’s been pushing back.

I am hurt. This fucking night just keeps getting worse.

Though, with this man kneeling at my feet, head tipping back to look at me with a sinfully cocked eyebrow, it might not be that bad after all.

“You’re running on adrenaline, aren’t you?”

Sure, that’s it.

He can’t yet know why my reaction is not quite . . . normal.

On a series of quick, jerky nods, I begin to fumble with my fingers. “Is it—is it in my back?”

His head bobs up and down slowly. “I saw it when you were looking for your phone. Don’t look,” he says as I’m about to pivot. “It’s very close to your waist, so it’s unlikely it hit anything important, but I should pull it out.”

“I thought you’re always supposed to leave that stuff in,” I argue.

“Not always.”

I frown. “What is it?”

He rises, placing one hand on the small of my back, bringing me even closer to him as I crane my head to catch more of those droplets that fall off of him.

“What are you doing?” I whisper, but before the last word leaves my lips, something scrapes through my insides, and I flinch against him.

He brings his other hand between us, and I grab the bloody object as he steps back.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” It’s my goddamn pencil.

Of all the things that could have impaled me during the car crash, the pencil out of my toolbox was it.

“Hands up,” Carter orders me.

I frown at my extended arms, wondering why I didn’t even question his command.

He stands before me and wraps his suit jacket around me, tying it tight around my waist.

“It will keep pressure on the wound.”

“Thanks.”

He cocks his head, scrutinizing every bit of me. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine. Thank you.” I strain my voice, trying out the fake gestures I’ve learned over the years—jerky movements, biting my lip, repeated blinking, and heavy breaths.

He doesn’t question me further. Instead, he looks at his phone, slides his fingers over the screen, and shakes his head.

“Do you have any idea where we are?” He shows me the map app.

I pinch the image and move it about until I find the rough area.

I’m familiar with it. In my research for this job—or any job—I map out all the routes of escape or distraction.

This was one of them. Though, I’m not one hundred percent sure where exactly in the forest we are.

And I know for a fact we’re not close enough to civilization to walk through this raging storm in the middle of the night.

“There.” He taps on a brown blob on the screen. “It’s a cabin of some sort. And I think we’re around here.” He points to a spot that’s not quite that far. At least, not on his screen.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Do you have any other ideas, Scarlet? Because we sure as fuck can’t walk back to Queenscove, and going back to the main road will take much longer than reaching this cabin.”

“Wow...not sure you’ve ever spoken so many words in a row to me before.” I take a dig at him.

His nostrils flare as he fixates on me. My breath catches in my chest. Without another word, he turns and walks back to his car, kneeling inside it again. He still says nothing as he rises and walks away, passing the tree line and moving into the forest.

“Wait!” I stop him, running back to the car to grab the briefcase with my laptop.

It’s slightly banged up, but I’m confident it’s fine. He looks at me, then the case, but turns around without asking about it.

Why do I have a feeling I’m in for a hard, brutal night?

Because you basically asked for it, silly woman.