Page 38 of Merciless King

Terrence Ferida couldn’t have sent it, not from prison, which meant they had the wrong man or Ferida wasn’t working alone.

“I don’t want you home alone, understand, London? At no time should you be on your own, not until we know what the hell is going on here,” Connor said to me, then to Van he added, “You’ll make sure of that, I take it?”

There was something in his voice, something I’d never heard before but was hard to miss. Van didn’t either. “London won’t leave my side, day or night,” he said, voice deeper, the implication clear.

Connor held Van’s hard stare for several long seconds, then he dipped his chin, gaze coming to me. “I’ll be in touch as soon as I know more.” He walked away.

Erin agreed to stay and lock up, and Van ushered me out the door.

“How?” I whispered when I climbed into his car. “Who the hell is doing this to me?”

Van turned to me, expression harder than I’d ever seen. His fury burned from his eyes, a wild inferno. “I will find out, London.”

In that moment, I truly believed he’d raze the city to protect me.

He would burn it all down.

9

Van

Neco’s fingers flew across his computer keyboard.

I wasn’t waiting for the police to work their way through miles of red tape. “You nearly in?”

“Almost.”

He hit several more keys and live footage of the CCTV camera outside London’s shop popped up onscreen.

“A few more minutes and I’ll have access to what it got this morning.” Neco glanced at London. “What time did you discover the package?”

“Around one,” she said.

Her voice was soft, a little husky, broken. It killed me. I had no idea what the fuck was going on, but I intended to find out, whatever it took.

“Got it,” Neco said.

Erin said the package was delivered while London was out to lunch, and after a brief conversation with Daniels a few minutes ago we knew the thing hadn’t been delivered by any courier. Which meant the person who was behind it had also delivered it. I fucking hoped so anyway.

Neco fast-forwarded the footage until we found what we wanted.

We watched as a guy walked into London’s store, wearing a dark jacket and blue ball cap. His hair was blond underneath. A few minutes ticked by then he rushed out. His face was blurred. Not as clear as I would have liked. “Can you enhance that?”

“I can try,” Neco said as the footage continued to run. “You want to see any more?”

“Let’s watch until London comes back. He could be watching, could be in the crowd somewhere.” It wouldn’t surprise me. That was all part of it for sick fucks like this. Seeing the terror, the pain they caused their target.

Neco fast-forwarded a little more until London came on the screen. I froze.

She was walking hand in hand with Daniels. He was smiling down at her. I couldn’t see her face.

London stilled beside me.

They stopped outside the store, and Daniels was talking as he looked down at her. Neco’s chair squeaked as he shifted, sensing the change in the room. I couldn’t take my fucking eyes off the screen as Detective fucking Daniels leaned in and kissed her, brief but sure, possessive.

And London let him.

What the fuck was this?