Page 55 of Carved Obsession (The Sanctum Syndicate #4)

Scarlet

This time around, I made sure to let my family know I’m alive.

They would have certainly noticed my absence since I’ve been living it up at Carter’s for two days now.

My clothes have been sitting clean in his dryer since yesterday, yet he seems perfectly happy for me to wear his. Even his boxer shorts.

Though I’ve spent much more time out of them.

Splayed on his bed. Bent over his kitchen counter.

On my knees in his shower. And on all fours in the middle of his church.

But I also curled into him as I answered more of his burning questions about my life.

I stood quietly as he washed my long hair in the shower.

And danced through his kitchen as he cooked some delicious fillet steaks for us.

We’ve had moments. More in the last forty-eight hours than I thought possible.

It’s interesting how much you can learn about a person once you remove all the bullshit rules people have about dating, when you remove all the worry about what someone’s gonna think about you, and when you simply stop giving a shit and allow someone in.

There is one thing I didn’t ask, and he also didn’t share—why he lives in a church. I have two theories—what he does in here is his way of desecrating everything his mother stood for, or it’s his subconscious way of being close to the mother he was supposed to have.

I don’t want to ask him about it. I think I prefer holding on to my theories.

An angry vibration startles me fully awake from the nap I fell into after yet another orgasm that left me spent. Technically, I regained consciousness a few minutes ago, but the slumber felt so good that I refused to open my eyes or move.

Deep burnt-orange hues litter the sky, slipping through one of the few windows that isn’t stained glass.

How long did I nap for?

I turn around in bed to search for Carter, the question sitting on the tip of my tongue, but I almost choke on it when I see the man. He’s sitting up, bare torso leaned against the headboard as he reads a weathered book, a pair of rounded square-framed glasses perched on his nose.

Goddamn those retro-looking glasses!

Goddamn this man!

And goddamn that stray strand of hair brushing against the frames!

I didn’t think it was possible for him to get any fucking hotter. The tattoos were enough. The perfectly carved features were already too much. But the fucking glasses? That’s just excessive.

He’s oblivious to my inner turmoil as he quirks the corner of his lip, throwing a soft “good evening” at me as he leans over his nightstand to pick up his phone.

After a few moments of reading, he taps his thumbs on the screen, replying to the message. The conversation carries on until he pauses, waiting for the other person to reply.

His expression is unchanged and I’m not sure if it’s my curiosity or my jealousy gnawing at me, but I’m fucking itching to know what the message is about.

Finally, he puts down the phone and places the book next to it, but when he’s about to slide those glasses off, I jump up and slide right onto his lap.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” I catch his wrist, bringing it down to my bare behind.

He gives it a tight squeeze before he wraps both hands around my hips, sliding them under the soft shirt he gave me to wear. His hands glide over my waist, but he stops on my ribs, thumbs brushing against the sensitive undersides of my breasts.

He graces me with a lopsided grin and one sinfully quirked eyebrow as I brace myself against his chest.

“Do you like my reading glasses, love?”

“Hate them,” I whisper as I lean in to press a kiss to his lips.

“Do you, now?”

“So much. I hate that they make me even wetter for you.”

“Is that so?” He brings one hand down, sliding it over my sex, an approving groan rippling through his chest. “Too bad we have to go.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Please, Carter . . . one more time.”

He squeezes my core, pulling a moan right out of my throat as I throw my head back.

“Trust me, kitten.” His lips press against my throat. “We have to go.”

I take in a slow breath, then pull back, rational thoughts finally drizzling through. “Did something happen?”

“Not yet, but I think it’s coming to that. Martin Duval is dead.”

“Wait.” I recoil. “Did you guys kill him?”

He shakes his head. “Suspicious circumstances have been ruled out, and accidental overdose was cited.”

Frowning, I sift through my brain for any indication in my previous research that this man ever did drugs. Or hard drugs, anyway.

“I don’t remember finding any clue that he was any sort of addict.”

“He wasn’t,” Carter answers with an amused expression. “I’m almost one hundred percent sure his father killed him and paid the right people off to rule it an overdose. This is revenge.”

“Because of your attack on him, you think?”

“Well, he certainly found out there was a spy with nefarious intentions in his midst. He probably pieced together who it was all on his own.”

I slide off of his lap, and he rises and walks over to his antique wood-carved wardrobe to dress. Such a shame to cover that tattooed ass and exquisite legs.

“He killed his own son...” I trail off, wondering what’s to come now. If Duval is capable of that, he’ll be capable of anything.

“We’re going to Midnight. You and Morrigan, who’s already there, will go with some of our security to meet Vincent’s mother, Evelyn, and Maya. The guys and I will take our teams and get ready for Duval.”

“No!” I rise to my knees at the edge of the bed, blood boiling at the idea. “Why are you separating us and sending me off with the women like I’m some chick who can’t hold her own?”

He walks over, still towering over me as he stands at the edge of the bed. “You’re not coming with us, Scarlet. That’s out of the fucking question.”

“But I can—”

His hand grips my throat, firm but careful. His other hand presses against my back, holding me close. “I know you’re strong, but even I’m not sure what we’ll be dealing with. I am not, under any circumstances, risking your goddamn safety, Scarlet.”

His gaze bores into me, filled with raw sentiments I bet my ass he doesn’t understand, but they fucking shine in his eyes.

“Do you understand me? You are important, Scarlet.”

Those words echo through me, a rippling effect that caresses my soul, pulsing behind my ribs.

Eventually, I nod. How could I not when he speaks such things to me?

“Good. Now let’s get your clothes from the dryer. We really need to go.” He presses a final kiss to my lips and gives my throat a playful squeeze before he steps away.

Carter

Finnigan walks into the speakeasy only a couple of minutes after Scarlet and I arrive, bringing with him the last of the team leaders we’re debriefing before we go into both defense and attack mode.

“Tina said there’s no sign of the mercenaries.” I waste no time revealing the tech team’s findings. “There weren’t a lot of them in the company, but the leftovers being MIA is not a good sign.”

“Duval has also gone into hiding. He’s not at home or any of his usual locations, and we can’t track him down,” Beau, one of our team leaders, says.

“Something’s happening. It’s too quiet.” Finnigan runs a hand through his blond curls, worry etched deeply in his features.

“It’s time to go. Beau, take your team and get Morrigan and Scarlet to safety. Maddox, I think—”

The rest of my sentence evaporates in deafening chaos.

The floor bucks under my feet. The walls tremble like they’re ready to collapse. Heat slams an invisible fist into me as the air fills with smoke so thick it burns my throat.

“Scarlet!” I scream as I find her through the haze.

She stumbles, and I don’t think—

I grab her waist and yank her behind me as wood splinters and plaster explodes above us. My pulse is a roar in my ears, but I force myself to focus, to think.

“The alarms!” someone screams over the commotion.

I scramble to pull out my phone.

“What are you doing?” Scarlet questions.

“The sprinklers aren’t working. The alarm failed. I have to warn the others to evacuate!”

“What others?”

The front door crashes open, and figures pour in, dark silhouettes against the glow of rising flames. One of our men rushes forward, only to be met with the glint of a blade. Blood sprays.

“We own the whole building,” I say. “Some of our army, our staff, they live above us.”

“Warn them!” she shouts, quickly understanding.

“Stay low,” I growl. I pick a name from my call list after she crouches down next to a table.

A man charges me, baton swinging. I sidestep, grabbing a shattered chair leg from the floor, and drive it into his ribs.

The impact is solid, satisfying. He crumples, but there’s no time to breathe.

Another bastard rushes me as the heat of the flames licks my skin and the acrid smoke claws at my lungs.

I pull out my gun and point the barrel at a man charging Vincent from behind. The shattering pop aimed right at his torso is barely a whisper in the chaos around us.

Even Morrigan has a guy by the throat on the ground, punching his face in as Vincent attempts to pull her off.

“Get the fuck out!” Maddox thunders.

I swipe over a name on my phone and put the call on speaker as I look for the exit, but the smoke confuses me in what were once familiar surroundings.

Another explosion blasts out the back, and I swing to Scarlet, shielding her body with mine. A menacing creak ripples through the sound waves, and the ceiling trembles dangerously. Flames lick it, spreading further.

“Hello? Carter!”

“Code re—”

“Behind!” Scarlet bellows, and I swing without a second thought.

My gun hits muscle before I even aim it, and I fire, then shove the figure away, but he grabs my shirt collar and pulls me with him. I snarl as I pistol-whip him on the nose, then put a bullet in the middle of his forehead.

“Carter! What’s happening?”

“Code fucking red! Evacuate! Now!” I shout into my phone before sticking it into my pocket without waiting for an answer.

Everyone fights around me, making a path of fallen bodies toward the exit. I don’t know if anyone has gone out. I can’t see through the bitter smoke. My pulse thrums in my ears as my Midnight crumbles around me, wood burning, leather melting, memories shattering.

“Scarlet!” I howl for her as I whip around.

She rises from between the two fallen tables she’s hidden behind and moves for me.

“We have to get out!” I shout, and reach for her.

But the smoke behind her moves. A man in a gas mask walks through it, and I jump into a sprint just as he grabs her.

He pulls her into the fumes as she flails and kicks to get him off, arms outstretched toward me.

Her desperate gaze tears at something within me, and I finally get to her, clutching her hand in mine.

Her gaze widens in horror, mouth open in a scream I don’t get to hear as a searing jolt erupts at the side of my head, and my world falls into darkness.