Page 53

FIFTY-THREE

PRAY 4 ME - LaLion

That was fucking hot .

I can just imagine Buffalo now: fucked for freckles and fucked for feet. Fucking hell.

I pull Dakota up beside me, then collapse back on the bed, breathing heavily. Watching

Dakota wrestle with himself and do exactly what I said was mind-altering.

That’s it. I’m a dom now. A dom? But I also like it when Logan does the same for me. So maybe a switch?

I close my eyes. I feel light. Light and spinny and fucking…happy? A switch. Like a light switch. I giggle a little, letting the feeling wash over me.

Dakota stiffens beside me. I laugh a few more times, then turn my head to see what’s bothering him. As I do, I realize with a start that I’m feeling things. I’m feeling happy and…fucking warm.

It’s a good feeling. And I sit in it for a second before I pause.

Whenever I feel these things, life has a weird way of knowing and kicking me in the nuts right after. And I definitely don’t like the way Dakota has stiffened. Partially because…oh fuck. Do I care if he’s okay?

Oh fucking hell, Ronan Carter cares .

NO. Turn the light switch off. This is bad news. I should just wash up in the bathroom and pretend this didn’t happen. Maybe if I do, I won’t be happy enough for the happiness to be ripped from me.

Dakota tries to get up.

I roll to face him. “Hey. You good?”

“Go a-a-away.” He sits up on the bed, facing away from me, his back stiff.

Oh, so it’s a challenge. I grip his shoulder, pulling him around to look at me. “I asked you a question, cub.”

He snarls back at me, defensive. “Don’t l-l-laugh at me.”

Laugh? When did I laugh at him?

Dakota just shoves me off him. “I’ve seen your l-l-l-i-s-s-s-t.”

I blink, staring at him for a second. What is going on? And then, I process his words. “What list?”

“The thing-s-s-s you’d never d-d-d-d-o again.”

I pull in a breath. A slight hit of defensiveness hits me while I try to remember what was on the list. But also, Dakota is so worked up. He was barely stuttering before, but now it’s back. “Okay?”

“S-s-s-o, don’t you dare judge me.” Dakota sits up straighter.

“I’m not?” I frown, staring at him. That was hot as fuck. I came once and almost came again, watching him worship me. What has gotten into him?

“Whatever.” Dakota goes to get off the bed, and I trap his arm. “I didn’t say you could leave.”

“I know the kind of peopl-l-l-e you guys-s-s are.” Dakota says it like it’s an insult. Like he can’t stand the kind of people we are.

Defensiveness flares in me. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. S-s-s-stuck on revenge. S-s-s-poiler alert, it won’t work.”

“What won’t work?” I don’t like the way the happy feeling is leaving my body. The way it’s evaporating and the familiar anger is taking over.

“Murdering people. It won’t bring Greys-s-s-son back.”

And suddenly, my world freezes. Again, I whip my gaze to him. “What?” The question comes out choked. Dakota knows about Logan’s first lover?

“It won’t bring him back.” Dakota rips out of my grip, and this time, I let him. I didn’t ask Logan what happened to Greyson. I never even thought to ask. I’d been so wrapped up in my jealousy.

“What happened to him?” I follow Dakota to the bathroom, where he tries to shut the door on me. I slam it back open, and Dakota just ignores me, going to the sink and washing his hands.

“What happened?” My voice is angry now, demanding. Why didn’t Logan tell me? And why would Dakota know?

“You don’t know?” Dakota looks genuinely surprised.

Fear, defensiveness, and anger wash through me at the same time. Dakota turns to face me, and I think about strangling the answer out of him. But there’s a brief, tiny flash of fear in his eyes, and that alone is enough to keep me planted right where I am.

Why would Dakota assume we’re murdering people to bring back Greyson? “The only people we kill are pedophiles.” I step into Dakota’s space, and his nostrils flare. “Or people who protect them. We don’t just kill to kill.” Or to bring people back to life.

Dakota just silently watches me.

“Tell me,” I demand.

“As-s-s-k your boyfriend.”

A sinking feeling fills my entire body. It feels like everything in me has been replaced by lead.

Oh no. No, it can’t be happening again.

Was Greyson…a victim?

And then, everything clicks into place. Of course he was. Of course he fucking was. That would explain why Logan won’t talk about him. Why Logan kills the people he does. It was right in front of my eyes, and I was too blind to see it.

A victim. They’re all victims. Because pedophiles never stop. No matter how many I kill, they’ll never fucking stop.

Suddenly, I have a million questions. Who was the abuser? Is he dead? I pat my pockets for my phone, not finding it. Because I left it in the fucking living room. I move there, dialing Logan.

He picks up on the first ring. “You okay?”

“Is he still alive?” It’s the only thing I can grind out.

“Who?” There’s a note of alarm in Logan’s tone.

“The person who hurt Greyson.”

There’s silence on the other end of the line. For so long that I ask again, “Is he dead?”

Logan’s voice is dull, “How do you know about that?”

“Were you going to tell me?” I’m spiraling. I can feel that I’m spiraling. It’s a dizzy kind of spiral, not the gentle kind. The kind that feels like everything is happening all over again, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

Because I don’t think there is. I think I’m stuck in this loop.

I should have known better than to feel happy. A kick in the nuts is what I get for that. And a reminder that my job isn’t over yet.