Unedited Teaser...this is still a work in progress, things may change.
“Boss, are you... I mean, this is just her boyfriend or whatever. Not a threat to business.”
“Just stay on the situation. I’m on my way.”
“You’re coming here? For her boyfriend?”
I could hear the confusion in his voice, and I realized how this looked. Malice had been with me for five years. He’d seen me handle threats, eliminate problems, make calculated decisions. He’d never seen me lose my shit over some woman’s personal life.
“Did I stutter?” I said, my voice dropping to that dangerous register that made smart people stop asking questions.
“No sir. I’ll keep eyes on her.”
I hung up, my jaw clenched tight enough to crack teeth. Some random man was in her house right now, probably hearing all about her eventful evening. Maybe she was scared, looking for comfort. Maybe she was telling him everything, about the basement, about Cyrus, about me threatening her life.
Or maybe they were doing other things entirely, and that thought made darkness overshadow any light I held. She had her fuckin nerve.
I dressed without thinking about it: black tee, black sweats, clean sneakers. I rubbed a little oil through my beard. Although I didn’t know what the fuck she was thinking I still needed to look good when she saw me.
The Lamborghini Urus purred to life in the private garage beneath my building, but I didn’t pull out right away. The city above me was already in motion, sirens stretching down 5th, delivery drivers arguing in broken English with the front desk. Normal city noise. But my thoughts were louder. I let the engine hum and told my thoughts to line up, one by one. I didn’t like variables. I didn’t like the idea of a man I didn’t know learning or even knowing her routines. I didn’t like the image of her barefoot in her kitchen, hair pulled back, pouring coffee for somebody who wasn’t me—and then telling him shit I couldn’t put back in her mouth. Shit that belonged to us and us only now.
The drive to Baxter Avenue took twelve minutes through morning traffic. I called Malice back when I was two blocks away.
“Status?”
“Still there. I can see shadows moving around in the house. Looks like they’re just talking, maybe having breakfast.”
Breakfast. Like they’d spent the night together. Was this was normal for them?
“Boss,” Malice said carefully, “can I ask what we’re doing here? Because if you’re worried about her talking, we could handle this a lot of different ways that don’t involve you personally getting involved.”
I pulled to the curb and sat with my hand on the wheel for one slow breath, looked at the front of her home. I didn’t hear shit he said as I walked up to her front door. I was furious, and being tired didn’t help the rage I felt.
I didn’t knock. I didn’t announce my arrival. I kicked the damn thing in. I was satisfied when the door surrendered, smacking the wall so hard the frame rattled. The sound was a statement, and I let it stand. I trekked into the small home and found her in the kitchen.
Coco spun in the kitchen, ponytail pulled high and slick, creating a sharp line that made her face look clean and focused. She wore a purple camisole and matching shorts that sent my mind somewhere else entirely as I took her in. She stood there in simple perfection—bare legs the color of rich cocoa, crimson polish on her toes, steam curling from her coffee like incense. She was the only peaceful thing in a room crackling with tension. Her eyes went wide for a second on reflex, then narrowed into heat—the kind of heat a man like me respected, even though I intended to walk right through it.
“Lesley,” she said, voice sharp enough to cut, “what the hell—”
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