Page 5 of Hunted Temptation (Alpha Nights: Unlikely Heroes #4)

Chapter Four

VAUGHN

Scoggins’s GPS stops at a building, but it’s not labeled on the tracker map.

Looking up the address, I frown at the sight.

It’s a large warehouse located in an industrial area.

There is no name listed anywhere that I can find in a quick search.

An empty building in an industrial area, and he’s going there at night.

I wonder if this is where he was last night.

It probably was. Writing down the address, I send Hale a text and ask him to figure out who owns this place.

I’m not sure it matters, but if someone else who is part of this whole ring owns this building, that could be seriously fucking helpful in my search.

HALE: I’M ON IT

Leaning back in my chair, I wish I could see what the hell is happening in that place. Since I can’t, I shift my attention back to Elodie. I wish I could shake her, but I’m obsessed. Watching her is my new favorite pastime, even when she sleeps.

Maybe I am a fucking creep. Whatever. At this point, I feel like maybe I should just own that shit. Elodie sits up, her eyes staring straight ahead. I don’t know what she’s looking at, but she is focused.

Then she shakes her head once before she throws her legs over the side of the bed and stands. I watch as she stretches her arms high in the air before she bends at the waist and touches her toes.

I’m not sure why it’s sexy, but it makes my cock twitch. She moves toward the bathroom, slipping inside and closing the door behind her.

Not much time passes before she shuffles back to the bed, then slips under the covers and closes her eyes.

Glancing at my watch, I frown at the time.

I hadn’t realized it was so late. Looking back at Scoggins’s GPS location, I realize he hasn’t moved.

This isn’t something to do with work. This is without a doubt something else.

HALE: INDUSTRIAL BUILDING. OWNED BY POINTE INDUSTRIES

My blood turns ice cold.

I know that name.

Instead of texting him back, I call him. “Did you really say Pointe Industries?” I ask.

“The same.”

“How?”

We share a moment of silence. Maybe we both need to let that sink in. The man who abused us our entire childhood, the man we killed, was involved with and I thought the owner of Pointe Industries.

“We need to call Theron,” I grind out.

I’m not pissed at him. I’m pissed at myself. I can’t believe I didn’t think to figure out what the fuck else that company owned. Hale doesn’t reply immediately. Instead, he inhales a deep breath and holds it for a moment before he lets it out slowly.

“We have dropped the fucking ball,” he grinds out.

“How the fuck were we supposed to know?” I ask. “It was supposed to be a shell of a shell company.”

“It’s Ravet,” Hale grinds out. “We should have known he would continue to fuck with us, to evade us, even after we killed his ass.”

“That’s about the long and short of it,” I mumble.

A few seconds later, he responds that he’ll set something up, maybe a virtual video meeting for tomorrow sometime. Thanking him, I go back to the cameras and the GPS. Nothing has changed.

Since I won’t be able to sleep, especially now that Ravet has been brought into this again, I focus on Pointe Industries. I need either Lucille or Nadine to get to work on this. They’re the only ones who can do some serious fucking digging really fucking fast, like lightning speed.

Sending Lucille and Nadine emails, I give them all the information I have. The moment I hit Send , the tracker starts moving. The car is heading away from the warehouse and coming back into town. I expect him to go straight home, but he doesn’t. He detours to the police department.

Pressing my lips together, I lean back and look at the computer screen. Elodie is still asleep. She looks peaceful. I can’t imagine what that’s like. To have a peaceful anything, let alone sleep.

I take a deep breath. I don’t know what will happen, but I’m also not sure I’ll be able to walk away from her. My feelings haven’t changed a single fucking bit.

I want to keep her for myself.

Even though I know it’s wrong, I don’t think I can just turn my back on her when this is all finished, when she’s left alone. Vulnerable . And I know that makes me a sick fuck. But I’m only a marginal sick fuck compared to her father and whoever the fuck is involved with Pointe Industries.

ELODIE

I’ve been too anxious to eat. My stomach is rolling and clenching over and over. I feel like I’m going to be sick. I wish I would just get it over with and throw up. I probably will after, though.

After.

I hate thinking about after. Pushing the thoughts out of my head, I turn on the water in the shower, letting it heat up as steam fills the small room.

I close my eyes and inhale the steamy, thick air, allowing it to clear my sinuses and calm me, but only slightly.

I don’t think anything could completely calm my nerves at this point.

Showering, I wash my hair, shave, and then lotion everything before I carefully apply all my makeup after styling my hair. I’m still not sure what awaits me for the night, but I don’t want any part of it. As much as I try to hide my nervousness, I know I fail.

My father has made it clear that I’m to be perfect and on my best behavior. Whoever this person is, he’s important, so much so that my father seems to be nervous as well. And Chief Scoggins is never anxious.

He runs this entire city.

People shit their pants when he walks into a room. So, the fact that the tables are turned, I’m not only terrified but intrigued at the same time. I also know that none of this can be good.

Once my face and hair are in place, I listen for my father’s arrival. I don’t know what he’s going to have me wear, or where we’re going, but I’m unfortunately ready for whatever is coming my way… at least as ready as I can be.

Sitting on the edge of my bed, I watch as the minutes tick by, then the hours. I don’t move. I don’t need to. I’m not hungry, not thirsty. I am prepared and ready for whatever is coming my way.

As I sit and wait, I try to avoid thinking about the actual acts. I hope I’ll be able to do my usual, which is to disappear into my own head, in the darkness and safety that waits for me.

The front door opens.

Then closes.

The lock doesn’t click into place, and I instantly know that it’s him . I know it is just by the shift in the air around me.

It’s suffocating.

I don’t move, staying where I am as I wait for him to come to me. He prefers it this way. A few moments later, my bedroom door opens. Turning my head, I look over to see him standing above me.

He lifts his arm, but I’m not sure that I want to see what he’s showing me. The air is thick and heavy, and breathing becomes difficult. I don’t know what to do. I’ve been doing this since I was a little girl. I shouldn’t be this upset.

It’s just another day.

It should be just another day, but I guess when your just another day is filled with piled-on trauma, it’s more than that. Shifting my gaze to his extended arm, I notice what he’s holding out.

Dangling from his fingertips is a little pink babydoll dress, and it makes me feel like I’m going to throw up immediately.

I open my mouth to say something, but instead of actually saying anything, I snap my lips closed.

This is not the time or the place to ask anything.

I know that much to be true. I need to keep my lips shut, do what I’m told, and be the best at it.

The absolute best.

“You’re lucky,” he announces.

“Lucky?” I ask when he doesn’t say anything else immediately. Instead of sounding as snarky as I feel on the inside while asking that, I keep my tone curious.

My father hums, then clears his throat before he walks over to the bed and gently lays the pedophilic pink dress on the bed.

“Lucky,” he says, repeating the word. “He wanted somebody much younger. You’re saving a girl tonight.”

My heart wrenches.

Luck.

Luck has nothing to do with it.

Money is more like it.

I was never lucky when I was a girl. My father is a selfish asshole. I don’t call that luck. As much as I want to, I don’t say any of that, though. Biting the inside of my cheek, I watch him for a long moment, and when he realizes that I’m not going to respond, he continues.

“Don’t disappoint me, Elodie. He is very important to our future, to my future.”

“I won’t,” I rasp.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. “Now get dressed. He’ll be here in a few moments, and you need to be waiting for him in the guest room.”

“Here?” I ask.

Never does my father bring men here, to our home. It’s always to a condo in town, something he’s had my entire life. It’s always been the place where these things happen. I’ve never questioned it.

Usually, because I knew nothing else, I thought it was normal that this was what happened in the world.

I didn’t know it was wrong, not until I got older, and it felt so wrong.

Incredibly wrong. When girls at school started talking about crushes and first kisses, I didn’t know that it wasn’t normal for men to touch and kiss—to take .

Also, it didn’t help that any time I tried to tell someone, they acted like I was a problem.

Like I was lying or making things up. I just assumed it was normal, and I eventually stopped trying to tell anyone what was happening to me.

I declared it as my normal. And I isolated myself from the world, which my father loved.

No friends, no ears to hear the secret horrors of my world. He absolutely loved every part of it. And was more than happy to have me home, locked in the house, and at his beck and call always. Something I absolutely hated… and still do.