Page 45 of Ruthless

In a perfect world, I’d be able to seal her away and forget she ever existed, but that’s easier said than done. No matter how many distractions I try, I can’t stop thinking about her. Boxing with Marco does nothing to calm me, and neither does taking Pistol on her morning walks to the dog park.

As the days bleed into nights, I grow restless, cagey. On the worst evenings, I can imagine Sara’s presence through the fucking walls. The nightmares, which had begun to ease in intensity for the last week or so, come back stronger than ever.

Sleep and coherent thought both prove impossible. My world is reduced to the woman haunting my computer screen. I tell myself that I only watch to revel in her suffering, but the claim rings hollow.

Six days pass, and on Tuesday night, I get a call from Luca.

Skipping the pleasantries, he cuts right to the chase. “Trail’s cold.”

I frown. “How? That doesn’t make any sense. What about Blue Hoodie?”

“He slipped back into the Bazaar before I got to the shop, remember?” Incredulity drips from every word. “We talked about this.”

Ignoring the implication that Sara’s distress and my prince charming-style rescue—only with more violence—caused the lead to slip through our fingers, I press on. “He’s not smart enough to just up and disappear.” He had to have help from our mole. Either that, or whoever murdered our last lead got to this one as well.

Luca’s quiet at first. When he does speak, he keeps his tone carefully neutral. “The girl is a distraction.” After the painfully loud silence that follows, Luca continues, pushing me in a wayeven Marco wouldn’t dare. “If it weren’t for her, we would have found the Ghost by now. And if you don’t mind my saying so, Boss, it might be better to end things with her here so we can focus on the task at hand.” For the first time, he hesitates. “I can make her death quick.”

He poses the suggestion as an offer, not a threat. Just in case Iwantit. I know how much the men in my life care about me by how willing they are to kill my ex.

I respond through gritted teeth. “I’ll take care of her.”

As much as I want to bite Luca’s head off just for that suggestion, he has a point. Saraisa distraction. A dangerous one. But I’m not ready to kill her, and now that I know avoiding her won’t work, I need to find a way to flush her from my system.

This house mirrors the one next door, except without the elevator, plus it’s geared more toward the staff’s comfort than mine. There’s a regular gym, too, but no ring for sparring. No containment cells either.

Across from the stairs is a false wall that opens with a groan when I press inward. I’ve never used the emergency exit before, but I’m glad I had the foresight to have it built. If we ever experience a raid, this doorway provides our best chance of escape. I walk from one lower level to the other and slide the connecting door closed.

It disappears, fitting so seamlessly into the wall that you can’t even tell it’s there. The last time I checked the security cameras, Sara was curled up on the floor of the sauna. When I shove open the door, a plume of hot mist envelops and momentarily blinds me. The steam clears slowly, and that’s when I see her.

She’s still on the floor, but she sits up when I enter, her blue eyes wide, red-rimmed, and puffy from crying. My own observations show that she’s not eating much. The endless cansof cold beans and jerky aren’t especially appetizing, but I didn’t want to risk giving her food that required the use of heat or sharp instruments.

The aim was nothing more than survival. Even so, witnessing her fragility hurts me in a way that I’m not prepared to investigate yet.

At some point, she must have showered because she’s in my shirt and a pair of panties, and her hair’s in two neat French braids. The air in the sauna, thick with the scent of the soap and shampoo I bought her, reminds me of cherry pie. My mouth waters, and with my heart in my throat, I take another step inside the room, letting the door close behind me.

“Have you missed my cock,my littletesoro?”

It’s supposed to be a challenge, intended to put her in her place.How dare you think I would ever need you? I abandoned you because you mean nothing to me.I wait for her to break down as the knowledge hits home, but she climbs to her feet, her eyes wide and wondering. Maybe those tears aren’t from fear but from longing.

I can’t tell the difference between the two anymore, and maybe she can’t either.

Sara rushes to me, and I brace myself, sure that she’s about to slap the shit out of me. Instead, her hands tangle in my hair, and she arches her back. Yanking me down to meet her, she claims my lips in a ragged kiss that’s all teeth and half-formed sobs. At first, I’m too shocked to respond, but then the beast of desire rips through me. I hook my arm around her back and sweep her off her feet.

Her legs encircle my hips as I slip beneath the hem of the shirt, ripping the waistband of her panties. She jerks with the force of the motion, and I shift her in my arms to tear the other side as well, pulling shredded cotton away even as she fumbleswith my button and zipper. She releases a triumphant moan when she finally frees my cock.

We stumble into a wall, and when I feel her lips searching for mine again, I lean forward and bite her throat. I know what she yearns for, but she doesn’t deserve tenderness. That softness doesn’t exist between us anymore, and she needs to accept that.

She tugs at the edges of my shirt, but I snatch her wrist before she can expose bare skin.

“Don’t.” My fingers tighten. She might have shied away once, but now she only slaps my hands aside and reaches for me again. With a curse, I spin her around and push her face forward onto the wooden bench lining the wall. Her ass is a rounded globe, and I slap one cheek and then the other until she’s squirming like a bitch in heat.

Head down, she spreads her ass cheeks for me. I wish we were in a better lit room so I could see her sweet center, but I can feel it just fine. I push two fingers through her folds, and her wet heat grips me in a way that has me wondering if she’ll ever let go.

Her pathetic little mewl causes my knees to weaken. With excruciating slowness, I pull my fingers out and swirl her swollen bud with her slickness. “Good girl. How’s that?”

I cut off another one of her unintelligible noises by plunging back inside her. In this small space, her cry almost deafens me.

I love the way she falls apart under my touch, and as I fuck her with my fingers, her whole body pitches forward and back like she’s the puppet and I’m her puppeteer. My cock leaks from the tip, begging for friction, but I’m not finished with Sara yet. Not until I’ve reduced her to a sobbing, soaking mess.