by LP Lovell
Evie is still holding her stomach, her face white. "Don't tell me you're freaked out by some severed tits. Go and get Jonty."
Evie glares at me, her chest still heaving as she walks from the room. Looks like my message wasn't clear enough. Crystal was dead the second he took her. I know that. Blowing his car and warehouse up, that were scare tactics, what he's doing is tearing down my business, so I'm going to take down his.
Between Ronan and Seamus, I can work the Mexican Cartel, I can disrupt not only his supply of girls but his import channels, as well as his end buyers. I have more reach than he can imagine, and he really underestimates me.
The sound of tires bumping over the alleyway pulls me from my sleep. I roll over in the bed, and watch Ezra, sleeping soundly on his side.
I enjoy him touching me. I let him fuck me, every day, every night, for no other reason than pleasure. I swallow at the thought of how he feels pinned over me. My skin tingles at the memory of him beating me, cleansing me. The street light streams in through the window and causes shadows to nestle within the deep ridges of Ezra's muscles. A man whose body is as honed and perfected as his is looks nothing short of holy. Everyone needs a god. Everyone needs something that makes them feel safe. And I worry that Ezra is becoming a god to me.
I trace a fingertip over his bicep with feather light strokes. He has no idea that had he let me in his bedroom a few weeks ago; I would have killed him. Instead of lying here, sleeping peacefully, he'd be in a coroner's bag, cold and rigid. I don't like to think about my Ezra in a coroner's bag. It makes me sad.
Dave trots up on my side of the bed and sits, his head thumping over the floor, and his head cocking to the side as he studies me. When Ezra shifts in the bed and groans, Dave's ears perk up. I swing my legs over the side of the bed. Pain throbs through my ass and legs, and I flinch, even though that pain reminds me I am forgiven. I glance at the clock and realize it's past noon. Ezra is still asleep. Sloth is a sin, Evelyn. His arm is thrown out to the side, the sheets barely covering his hips. He looks dangerous even in sleep, but maybe that's because of the skulls and daggers he has tattooed on his chest, the depiction of hell that trails down his arm.
I sit on the edge of the bed, unsure of what to do. Dave shuffles forward and rests his head in my lap, whimpering as he looks up at me. Brushing him off my lap, I reach for the thick curtain and pull it back. Sun pours into the room, and I stare out at the skyscrapers. Guilt slices through me because I'm alive, and I'm sleeping with a man my sister wanted to kill.
The temptation is clouding my judgment, derailing me from my goal. I came after Ezra because I needed someone to connect me with the murderous pervert who killed Hannah. And even though Ezra's given me the name 'Zee', I've done nothing because he's told me not to. And I could if I wanted. I could find him. Zee wants me, so all I'd have to do is make myself available... but I want to be good.
What am I doing?
I try to convince myself I am only with Ezra, in his bed, letting him defile me because he will protect me because he will eventually lead me to Zee. Evelyn, no one will protect you. They never have they never will. Ezra is only a man who wants to get his dick wet. Kill him. I don't want him. I don't love him. I do love him... You want him so he can beat you and treat you like the filthy little whore that you are.
Dave wines, tucking his tail, and I wonder if he heard that little voice too.
It's been nearly a week since I've allowed Ezra to take me, since I've pretended he will protect me. He's sitting behind his desk, smoking a cigarette, making call after call and cursing whoever's on the other line. He makes me go everywhere with him, and he tells me it's because I can't be trusted, and I can't, but I think more than that, it's because he wants me with him. At least that's what I want to believe.
"How do you know it was one of my girls?" he asks. "Maybe your wife's been doing the dirty on you." He laughs. There's a long pause before he rolls his eyes and slams the receiver down, immediately standing up and heading for the door. Ezra yanks the door open, and Dave eyes him from his spot on the sofa next to me.
"Jonty!" Ezra shouts. "Tell SJ to get her arse in here." He paces, combing his fingers through his hair.
The door opens and a busty girl with burgundy hair struts inside, her tits pouring out of the tight shirt she's wearing. She doesn't even glance at me as she steps close to Ezra. Dragging her eyes over every last inch of his body, she smiles and bats her fake lashes.
"What do you need, Ez?"
Ez? An impulse to grab that woman by her throat and choke her shoots through me. He is not hers; he is mine.
His eyes narrow at her before turning away to sit at his desk once again. "Have you got the clap?" He blurts.
"I'm careful." She sighs and crosses her arms over her enormous chest. "You know that."
"No," he huffs, dragging a hand over his chin. "I don't know that, because short of standing in the fucking room whilst you fuck the guy, I can't guarantee that you'll do what you're fucking told!" He slams his fist down on the desk. "Rob is pissing blood, and now he has to somehow try and drug his wife with the damn antibiotics. He's not happy, SJ!"
She shrugs. "You think I'm the only woman besides his wife he sticks he wrinkled little dick in?"
"I think you're fucking cheap enough to offer bareback extras!" he shouts.
Her eyes cut over at me and Dave growls. "The only person I give bareback extras to is you, Ez," she says with a smirk before turning back to face him. And now I want to stab her in the back of the head.
Ezra scowls at her and slowly rises from the desk, moving toward her. She pushes her breasts out, setting her eyes on his like she wants nothing more than to know what it feels like to fuck him. I watch him lean closer to her, and my heart pounds. He's too close to her. He's close enough he may kiss her. I panic when he grabs her hair the way he grabs my hair. Ezra jerks her head back so hard her legs buckle, and he forces her to her knees in front of him. She whimpers from the pain, but instead of letting up, he only tightens his hold.`
He bends over her. "Do not fuck with me. You won't like the consequences!" Tears fill her eyes as he yanks her hair harder. "Now go and take your diseased pussy to the doctor, and don't come back here until you've sorted that shit out." He lets go of her hair and turns his back on her as though he's too good to waste his time on her any longer. I almost feel sorry for her. Almost, but not quite because she is a filthy whore.
Just like your sister, Evelyn. No, my sister was doing good work, just like me.
The door clicks shut as SJ leaves, and Ezra drops back into his chair with a heavy sigh.
Hannah slept with Ezra, Evelyn. Her lips were made for his cock too. You are not special. I close my eyes, confused and lost, willing that voice to quiet. I wonder if my sister fucked Ezra. If that girl that just left fucked him. I wonder how many women besides that redhead have been slammed up against his window in a too-tight white dress.
"Did you fuck her?" I ask, my heart racing at the thought. I'd have to kill him if he did.
"I don't fuck whores."
"You fuck me..."
His gaze crashes into mine, sucking all the air from my lungs. "I need to go and handle some shit." He turns away from me. "Stay here. Don't get into trouble, and do not fucking kill anyone," he grumbles.
He just dismissed me the way he dismissed that dirty, diseased whore. I narrow my gaze at him as he walks out the door. He fucks me; then he ignores me. Anger swells in my chest. I stand, snatching his keys from the desk before following him down the hallway.
"You can't keep me here," I shout.
Ezra slams to a halt, and I almost plow into him. He turns, crowding me with his large frame. "When are you going to learn, sweetheart? I will do what I fucking like, and you will listen, or you will suffer the consequences."
My blood turns to lava burning through my veins. I feel like I'm going to burst into flames. My nails slice into my palm, and I grit my teeth as I watch him disappear into the club. I should jus
t leave. I should go home. I don't need him because he is a distraction. He will not save me. He is lying just like my father did, just like Zachariah did, just like everyone in the town I grew up in did. He is a liar, and I don't need him to keep me safe.
I shove my way through the grimy, sweaty men crowded into the bar, my gaze locked on the back of Ezra's head as I reach for the door. The cold air stings my cheeks when I step onto the sidewalk. I'm breathless and angry. If he wants to protect me, he will come bursting through those doors, pissed and yelling the second he realizes I am gone. When I make it to the end of the block, I turn around to watch the door. Ten minutes pass, fifteen, and Ezra hasn’t come after me. Rejection eats away at me, and I want to cry. He has warped my mind. Show him, Evelyn. Make him notice you.
Exhaling, I hike my skirt up as I lean against the side of Sin. Ezra wants to ignore me, so fucking be it. I have a job to do, and if he's not going to help me, I can't waste any more time. I rake my hands through my hair and pull the neckline of my dress down, exposing half of my breasts. Within moments, there's a whistle, and I glance up to find a man standing in front of me, puffing a cigarette.
"How much?"
"One-hundred." I notice a wedding band glint beneath the streetlight. Adultery is a sin. "Two-hundred bareback."
"Two-hundred it is," he laughs.
I turn and walk down the alleyway. The red lights on Ezra's car flash when I press the unlock button.
"Wow, you must be a damn good fuck," the man mumbles under his breath, eyeing the shiny Mercedes.
"I aim to please," I say, grinning as I open the back door.
Fucking Evie is driving me insane. I like the girl, and I fucking love sinking my dick into her, but damn, she bitches more than anyone I know. I talk to the whores, and I can see her plotting all the ways she could end them. She's hot, but you know what they say, the hot girls are always crazy. Well, she fucking redefines that shit.
I stay on the club floor and help Jack behind the bar, mainly to stay away from Evie because if I don't, I'll either kill her or fuck her—perhaps both. I work the bar until we close.
Once the bar is quiet, and the doors are locked, Tony, the bouncer, leans on the bar. "Hey, I'm out, but your girl wanted me to give you these." She's not my fucking girl. He holds his hand out and drops a set of keys into mine. I glance down at the black fob with the Mercedes logo on it. Ah, fuck. This can't be good.
"Thanks," I grumble, before storming straight past him. I open the door that leads to the stairs and whistle. Dave comes running down the stairs a few seconds later and follows me out of the club.
The second I open my car door I'm ready to kill her. "Fucking shit!" I slam my hand on the roof. There, on the back seat, is a guy, eyes wide open and staring lifelessly at the ceiling. His head is at an odd angle, and his jaw is hanging open. She snapped his neck. What is she? Jackie-Fucking-Chan?
I slide into the driving seat and turn the ignition. I am not dealing with that shit. She can fucking dump the body, and I swear, if she put his dick in her mouth, I'll make her dig her own grave next to his.
The tires screech as I floor it into downtown, heading for her apartment. The entire way to her place Dave whines, glancing in the back like the zombie apocalypse is about to rise. I park the car in the shadow of the building. The last thing I need is someone looking in the window and spotting the dead guy chilling out on the back seat. I can't fucking believe her. She's lost her shit. Dave throws himself out of the car so fast I'm sure he's shit himself. I slam the car door and climb the stairs to her apartment. My temper is bubbling, and I try my best to rein it in because this is what she wants. She wants me to be angry so that I beat the living shit out of her, and believe me; I fucking want to.
I bang on the door, bracing my forearms against the door frame. I count to ten in my head over and over again, trying to get a hold on my temper. "Evelyn!" I shout.
I pace in front of my bed, clutching the poison inside my palm. I kneel down to pray. I clasp my hands. I can’t find the words because all I see when I close my eyes is Ezra. Hannah. Closing my eyes, I try once again. "Dear Father..." You are a sinner, Evelyn. Can you not see? You are a lie. A blasphemer. The memory of Ezra fucking me, his face buried in my soaked pussy loops in my head. I'm trying to pray and all I can think about is fucking him. I scream and push myself off the floor. And pace again.
I'm not even sure what I'm doing anymore. I'm obsessed, possessed by him. He is the devil and he has drug me down to hell. My gaze lands on the Bible I took from Matthew's apartment. I killed him. Murder is a sin. But he was a bad man. Every time I've killed a man, I picture Zachariah. I see his face; I hear his voice. I kill these men in an attempt to destroy his memory, and it doesn't work. I kill bad people...
"Dear God, forgive me," I breathe the prayer, but my stomach knots because there is no answer. I can't feel God anymore.
There's a loud bang at my front door. The moment I hear Ezra shout my name, my heart leaps and those butterflies flap in my stomach. I hurry to stand, checking my makeup in the mirror before I drop the vial into my purse. He pounds over the door. "Evelyn!" he growls, and I rush to the door. I will be forgiven. Ezra will see to that.
Smiling, I open the door. Ezra's large arms are braced in the doorway, his head tilted down, his eyes glaring up at me. "Really? In my fucking car!"
"I couldn't kill him on the street." I cock a brow and stare at him, daring him. "I kept it clean."
He steps closer to me, slowly inching his face toward mine until I feel his warm breath on my lips. "Did you fuck him?"
"No." My heart beat quickens, drumming into the back of my throat. He told me I'd be in a pool of my own blood next time I put another man's dick in my mouth. Even though I didn't touch the man—because my lips were made for Ezra's cock, because I love Ezra—I don't think he'll believe me. He's going to kill me and toss me in the Hudson River, laughing as I float downstream.
"Did you put his cock in your mouth?" he asks, his brow twitching, his voice dangerously low.
"No, Ezra." I swallow, fighting not to blink, because if I blink he'll think I'm lying.
His hand shoots out like a snake striking its prey, and his fingers clamp around my throat, cutting off the air. "You're walking a fine fucking line, little killer." The muscles in his jaw tick as he stares me down. "Your temper tantrums are getting old. When I tell you to stay, you fucking well stay." I should want to fight him. I should be scared and be desperate to get his hand away from my throat, but I'm not. I like that I can make him this angry. He releases me, shoving me away from him.
"You don't own me, Ezra," I say quietly.
Laughing, he steps behind me, slowly circling me like a vulture. "That's where you're wrong, sweetheart." He fists my hair from behind, yanking my head back so hard my scalp burns. He pulls in a deep breath, inhaling along my neck line as he nips at my throat. That sensation forces chill bumps over every last inch of my skin. "I do own you. You disobeyed me, and for that there are always consequences. Especially when your actions involve a dead body and my leather fucking seats."
And I want those consequences...
I swallow, my heart pounding because I need him angrier. "I didn't make him bleed. It's just a body, Ezra."
He growls in my ear. "You ever seen a dead body shit itself? Because I fucking have. You're lucky the guy didn't prolapse all over my fucking back seat." My eyes drop to the ground. "Now," he says, "are you gonna walk to the car, or am I going to have to drag you?"
I know I don't have to go with him. I know I shouldn't, but part of me wants nothing more than this—this possessiveness of his. I have never craved the attention, the affection of a man, but the way I crave Ezra is enough to kill me.
"Just let me get my purse," I say as I turn away. I just need to have my poison with me in case I have to kill him.
I can let him think he owns me. I'll even let him believe he can control me, because as long as I am only allowing him to think this, I am the one in contr
ol. I tell myself these things even though I know they're nothing but lies because Ezra does own me.
I grab my things from my dresser, flip off my lights, and lock my door. When I come back out of my apartment, Ezra glares at me and I swallow. "Are you mad?" I ask.
He turns, walking down the stairs in front of me. "Oh, I'm mad, little killer. I'm just biding my time, because what I have in mind for you, you won't be able to sit down in the car when I'm done."
I smile, my heart swelling with his promise.
Ezra's weight crushes me. My shoulder blades make a loud crunch as he forces me against the hardwood floors. The cold edge of the knife grazes my stomach as he cuts my shirt down the middle and tears it from my body. The cool air causes me to tense. He gently trails the tip of the blade between my breasts and down my stomach, my skin prickling from the touch. With the slightest amount of pressure, he could slit me open and gut me, but he won't do that because he wants me. He needs me just as much as I need him, and I see it in the feral look in his black eyes. This is what I need, just as much as he does. This is why he can't ignore me. I need to be wanted.
His lips brush over the path he just traced with the blade. As he kisses me skin, he drops the knife, and it clatters to the floor.
I shouldn't enjoy this, and I am well aware of that, but there are a lot of things that shouldn't be pleasurable that are. I want to be his idol. I want to be a sin he feels guilty for, but how wicked must something be to make a man as depraved as Ezra feel guilty?
"I'm going to make you regret pissing me off, Evie," he promises, and butterflies flit in my stomach from the thought of it. "And no, I'm not going to hurt you, not physically anyway. You'd like it too much, my depraved little killer." He tenderly kisses my stomach before his teeth sink into the skin, and I smile because he lied. He will hurt me.