Connor
I called her mia cara… my love.
Ha. I let out a bitter snort of resentment and feel my heart begin to harden. I’ll give her credit-she’s a consummate actress. Last night, especially, with all of her soft whimpering and breathy sounds that fooled me. Fooled me damn good.
“I need to punch something,” I grit out.
Roberto knows I’m deadly serious and he reluctantly motions for me to follow him outside. He has a bag set up, hanging from a nearby tree, and I stalk over to it.
“Hold up,” Roberto calls, jogging after me. He shoves a pair of boxing gloves my way.
“I don’t need ’em,” I say and make a couple of fists.
“Yeah, you do, or else you’re going to fuck your hands all up. Put them on,” he insists.
With an aggravated sound, I grab the gloves, shove my hands into them and turn toward the bag. Roberto moves behind it and holds it steady while I start throwing punches. I have every intention of beating the holy hell out of it until I’m so exhausted, I can’t see straight. I need to purge this pent-up anger, these demons tearing me apart inside. To let loose the simmering betrayal that’s eating away at me like acid.
After punching for ten straight minutes, my knuckles hurt, but I keep going. I keep punching and hitting, trying to drive the hurt out. But it’s not that simple. The feeling of being used and betrayed just doesn’t go away.
I need to talk to Trish, confront her, and get some goddamn answers. It’s the only thing that’s going to make me feel better.
Pulling the gloves off, breathing hard, I take a moment to catch my breath.
“Any better?” Roberto asks.
“Sure,” I lie and hand him the gloves back.
“Don’t lie to me, bro. I can tell you’re still upset.”
“I am,”I admit. I’m not sure I want to tell Roberto about the plan forming in my head so I don’t. Instead, I turn away so he can’t read me so easily, and murmur, I’m going to take a shower. Thanks for letting me burn off some steam.”
“Any time. Oh, and Connor?”
I pause and glance over my shoulder.
“Don’t do anything stupid, okay?”
That’s exactly what I’m planning to do. Something really damn stupid. I give a sharp nod then stalk back across the lawn and over to my house. Throwing the door open, I pull my sweaty shirt off and toss it on the floor. Pants and boxer briefs drop next and I head straight to the bathroom, flip the shower on and step inside.
The water feels good on my hot skin, but it does nothing to soothe the ache of Trish’s betrayal. After washing away the sweat, I get out, grab a towel and dry off. My mind is buzzing with what I’m going to do later tonight.
It’s probably the stupidest damn thing in the world, but I’m determined to talk to Trish. I need answers and I’m going to demand them from her whether she likes it or not.
After getting dressed and slicking my damp hair back, I eat a light dinner and bide my time. She better be home when I get there.
If I discover she’s spending the night with her fiance, I’m going to lose my shit.
The hours tick by at a snail’s pace, but I can’t risk going over there too early. I need to sneak in under the cover of darkness.
Once it’s close to midnight, I open my safe and remove the gun. I’m not planning on running into trouble, but better to be safe than sorry. After closing it, I grab my keys, lock up and get in my Mercedes. I did a little digging around and found out that Trish lives at her family’s brownstone in the city. So that’s where I’m headed.
The drive to the city this time of night doesn’t take me very long and soon I’m parking a block away from the Volkanov family home. Opening my door, I slip out, check the gun tucked under my jacket, and walk up the sidewalk, staying in the shadows.
I approach their house from the rear block and when I reach it, I hang out across the street for almost 20 minutes, scoping it out and watching closely. I don’t see any guards which is a good thing.
It also means they probably have some pretty high tech security, but I’m not too worried about that.
My eyes are focused on the old, iron fire escape ladder that runs up the back of the house and right along an open window where the curtains are blowing out. That’s my way in.
After one more quick glance around, I hurry across the street and start climbing up the ladder.
When I reach the open window, I grab the frame and step over onto a small ledge. Then I look into the room.
It’s a bedroom, but no one is in there. A small lamp on a nightstand glows softly, but the bed is empty and still made.
Pulling in a deep breath, I realize it’s now or never. Swinging a leg over the window sill, I step into the room.
And right into enemy territory.