Page 49 of Carved Obsession (The Sanctum Syndicate #4)

Scarlet

How I would have loved a carefree life. But I had to decide all those years ago to marry this motherfucker who’s refusing my divorce. I’ve been spending the last two days with my head buried in my computer, trying to dig up dirt on my soon-to-be ex-husband.

Well, it’s technically been a day and a few hours, but who’s counting? Willow even checked up on me and brought me some cake to make me feel better.

Once I pulled myself out of that giddiness, I was in awe.

I kept hoping Carter’s fingers would slip beneath my underwear instead of the clinical inspection I was receiving.

Yet, he was getting me hot in a different way.

He was careful. Delicate. And so thorough.

Lifting my limbs and checking my joints like most doctors have been doing my whole life.

When I asked him about it, he said he’s been doing a lot of reading and learning about my condition.

He even briefly spoke with a doctor who specializes in the subject so he would know what to look for.

How to look. He did all of that...for me.

So he could be prepared, since he knew that I couldn’t stay out of trouble.

How could I not be in awe of this? I wished it was just carnal excitement I was feeling...but it’s so much deeper than that.

And I’m afraid I might have to let him go.

It’s my own fault. I saw us getting closer, more comfortable, and I didn’t want to ruin it with serious talks about the future. I want more time with him before I reveal I’ll never give him what men inherently need—a child.

You assume, Scarlet. Is Carter really the brooding kind?

That little voice in my head gives me some hope.

But I know it’s one of the reasons Bernard cheated on me.

It was during our relationship that I decided I didn’t want children.

I’d been on the fence for years before that, but I was too young to form a decision.

So many times my ex belittled me for robbing him of the opportunity to perpetuate his family name. Spread his seed and all that bullshit.

It’s his right, of course. But I thought we could work through it like two decent people.

Resolve it amicably. I was convinced he kept putting off the serious conversations because he was changing his mind too and wanted to stay together.

Turns out he was just stalling, not because he planned to force it on me and get me pregnant, but because he had a more pressing interest.

Of which he reminded me over the phone yesterday evening as I was driving home from Carter’s. The only thing that kept me calm during the ride was the fact that I was in one of Carter’s cars. The man wasn’t joking when he said he’d give me one from his collection.

I wanted the pretty metallic-silver baby ripped right out of the ‘50s, but thought the vintage Mercedes would turn too many heads. I went for the BMW instead. The M2 drives like a beast, and it did a decent job at centering my nerves during the angry phone call with Bernard.

So here I am, doing more digging into the man. I taught him too much during our time together. Too many countermeasures to protect himself from online attacks. I made my own damn life hard. But I think I’m getting close.

I know he wants the jewels I used to give him, but I haven’t found out why he needs them. That’s where I’ll find my leverage on him.

Fingers flying over the keyboard and mouse, I finally see a small light at the end of this tunnel I’ve been navigating for months, eyes widening with each step that takes me closer to it.

“Fuck yeah!” I shout. “This is what I’m talking about!”

I’m finally in the Camoras’ bank accounts.

One by one, I manage to get into the brothers’ personal and joint accounts where clean money is thrown into.

Most of their business is conducted in cash, and their ledgers are kept under lock and key, but what I’m seeing here still paints a confusing picture.

“This doesn’t look right.” Bernard is . . . penniless.

Not just that, but the joint accounts look odd.

“Been busy, darling?”

I jump in my chair, whipping around just to be met by the asshole himself.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Bernard? And how did you get in?” I rise, trying to glance around for anything that could be used as a weapon. My hand glides over a pen and I clutch it in my palm.

“I didn’t like the way you talked to me last night. I thought it was time for this game to get serious.”

“Get the fuck away from me!” I shout, jabbing the pen in his side when he rushes toward me.

He recoils in pain, and I take the moment to push him off and sprint away.

I’m barely out the door when I’m flung backward by the collar of my hoodie, and he wraps his arms around me.

I grab onto his sleeve, clutching his cufflink and pulling at it to get him off me, but I just rip it in the process.

I reach for the back of his neck, slamming my other elbow into his ribs, but the pained grunts don’t weaken him when I try to flip him over.

“You’re gonna pay for this, Bernard!” I rage at him, jabbing him over and over in his side.

“Not if you pay first.”

A cloth appears in my line of sight, and I whip my head around, trying to get away from the sweet-smelling thing.

He forces it onto my face and covers my nose.

Holding my breath only keeps me away from its effects for so long.

Eventually, I take a breath, and my muscles lose their strength, my limbs tremble, and my vision blurs. Darkness pulls me in.

Carter

Something isn’t right. My last three texts to Scarlet were left unread. She hasn’t done that once since we met.

Now, as I stare at the camera feed from her bedroom and call her, I can hear the faint ringtone far in the background. She doesn’t answer. Maybe she’s just in the garden. Or her parent’s house.

Maybe.

Tension builds in my brow as a strain pulls behind my ribs with breaths that start to weigh me down. I knew I should have put cameras throughout her whole goddamn house.

“What the hell are you looking at?”

Maddox.

I don’t have time to hide Scarlet’s bedroom feed or lie to him. Closing down everything as fast as I can, I rise and hurry out the office door, headed straight toward Midnight’s parking lot.

He’s on my heels, his heavy, booted steps unmissable as he follows me out. I’m too focused, too busy running through various scenarios in my head, each one more vomit inducing than the other.

I climb into the car, starting the engine as I hear the passenger door slam shut. A towering shadow sits next to me.

Maybe she’s in the shower. Or out for a swim in the pond. She could be hanging out with her family. Maybe I’m panicking for nothing.

Or maybe Duval found out she broke into his house.

My pulse rings in my ears, hands clutched painfully tight around the leather steering wheel as I drive over there.

I don’t even register the traffic lights.

Did I pass any reds? Honks blare around me.

Deep colors that remind me of her name flash.

Maddox mutters curses under his breath. That feral creature inside of me rages, clawing at my insides to come out and shred this city to ribbons so it can find her.

The gas pedal is maxed out, the world is a blur around me, but through it, I see my target.

We’re close. So close.

Maddox doesn’t utter a word as I slow down and pull into her drive—the gate is wide open.

That makes me even more uneasy. When I climb out of the car and sprint toward her front door, he follows in silence.

When I find it locked and go around the back, sighing when I don’t see her calmly swimming in the pond, he’s still on my heels.

I walk into her house, pausing for a few moments to listen, but it’s deathly quiet.

The blood rushing through my veins is clouding my sanity.

Instead of quietly observing to make sure I don’t miss something, I’m itching to rage and rush, turning this place over to find her.

I shake my head, aggressively rubbing a hand over my jaw in an attempt to calm myself, then carry on through Scarlet’s home.

Maddox’s steps branch away from mine as he quietly understands what we’re doing here.

I don’t find her in the bathroom. Her bedroom is as empty as it was on the camera feed. And her kitchen lights are on, a half-eaten meal on the table, but no beautiful, brown-haired woman sitting there.

“Carter.”

I snap my head toward the urgent sound of my name and find Maddox in the office.

A rushed glance into the dimly lit space doesn’t reveal much, only a slightly messy office, but I notice that some things were knocked over on her desk; the chair is slid a bit too far from it, and her screens are still on.

Maddox looks at me, a frown pulling tight at his brows, his scar looking so much more jagged and beastly in this light.

“Do you think it was Duval?” he asks.

I turn the lights on fully, stepping further into the room without answering, swiping my gaze in every nook like it could fucking speak to me. Something glints on the floor under the desk, a dark stain under it, and I pull a tissue from the box sitting on it, reaching over to grab it.

“Is that blood?” Maddox cocks his head at the pen I’m holding. Drops of crimson stain the white tissue.

It sure fucking is. And I don’t know if it’s hers or her attacker’s. I leave the offending item on the desk, and my gaze catches on the screen—bank accounts.

Is she still looking into Duval? Everyone was quite appreciative of her assistance.

It brought us so many more steps closer to nailing the guy, and our plan is well and fully underway now.

But she didn’t need to do anything else.

She’s done enough. Certainly more than I did. ..to my utter surprise.

Scrolling up in one of the windows, the name makes me recoil—Camora.

She’s looking into her ex. Cycling through the windows, I notice how empty his account is.

I thought the Camoras were doing well for themselves, but as I look further into a joint account, an image starts to form.

Connections grip each other like thin strings coiling together, matching transactions between accounts, sums adding up and routed around to confuse and deflect.

But I see them. Plain as day. Bernard’s been stealing from his family and taking out the money in cash.

“Carter!”

I turn toward Maddox’s urgent tone, and his expression gives me instant hope as he hands over the small object he holds in his hand—a cufflink, with ripped shirt fabric still attached.

“Does that mean anything to you?”

Yes, it fucking does. Because it has a monogram on it. Two cursive letters wound together, forming two damning initials—BC.

“Bernard motherfucking Camora,” I say through gritted teeth.

“Her ex?”

I nod my response, slide the object into my waistcoat pocket, and walk out the door. Maddox follows with determined steps.

“Where are we heading?” he asks once we’re in the car.

“The Camoras.”

He nods and picks up his phone, thick fingers working over the touchscreen as I drive off. I swipe the car screen, picking Tina’s name from my team, and she answers in two rings.

“Are you home?” I shoot the question, interrupting her greeting.

“Yeah, is every—”

“I need you.”

“Go.”

“We talked about the Camora family, the loan sharks in Bonray. I need you to see if you can track Bernard Camora. Also look for the other brothers and tell me if they’re at their HQ. The address is in their file on our server. Text that to me.”

“Are you heading that way?” Tina asks.

“Yes.”

She shuffles in the background and seconds later, the distinctive keyboard clacks fill the car. There’s something oddly comforting about that mechanical sound. It calms my nerves and helps the cogs in my brain turn more smoothly.

“Address sent. I’ll let the others know and call when I have something.”

She hangs up without another word.

Maddox picks up my vibrating phone and pops the address into the satnav. The screen says an hour and a half to our destination, but at night, with clear roads and my fucking car...there’s no way I don’t get there in an hour.

And when I do, I’ll eviscerate the motherfucker.