“This alliance, this partnership, whatever you wish to label it, will give you full access to my search for Sarah.”
I look up slowly.
“What if our wants or needs differ?” I question.
That is, what if he wants to save his cunt of a wife and I want to slit her throat.
“Trust me, my ending for Sarah mirrors yours.”
I sit up straighter. “I’m not your bitch.”
He laughs. “I can pay people to take on that role. I don’t need a bitch, I need an equal.”
He pours us each another whiskey, lifting his glass in salute. I retrieve mine, tapping it against his while meeting his eyes, looking for any hint he’s about to double-cross me. I find none.
We tip back our glasses, swallowing the contents whole.
“If we’re working together now, I need help finding someone. Someone who clearly doesn’t want to be found.”
He nods. “Of course.”
“This is strictly between you and me. Parker can never know, am I understood?”
“Crystal,” he murmurs, waiting patiently as I tell him my story.
Chapter Eleven
Camryn
“This is a stupid idea,” I murmur to myself, tapping the button of the elevator button incessantly..
“The dumbest idea I’ve ever had,” I muse, the soft sound of the bell indicating the doors are about to close like an electric shock directly at my heart.
“I’m such a loser,” I groan.
I turn around, my reflection staring back at me from the back wall of the elevator in judgment. “He’ll think I’m crazier than Codi on Christmas.”
The doors open and I consider letting them close without moving. Ride it back down to ground level and pretend I’d never even stepped into the building.
Easy. This never happened.
I take a tentative step out, shifting nervously on the threshold of the elevator until it beeps in irritation. The sound startles me forward and I look into the hallway, half expecting him to be waiting to send me away.
One deep breath and I push myself forward. One foot in front of the other, step after step until I’m standing outside his door. It looks normal enough, not the burning door of Hell like I had envisaged. Engulfed in flames, ready to welcome me into the inferno.
I knock before I can talk myself out of it.
Like with everything that Rocco Shay does, the door flies open with force. His big body bristling with the constant irritability that sits on his person like an untouchable aura.
Fuck off, it screams.
He stands on the threshold of his home, staring at me in confusion. “Rein,” he greets cautiously after a loaded second.
“Shay.”
We stand like that for five quickly drawn breaths. Enough time for my gaze to drink him in grudgingly. My eyes eager to eat up everything before me. The way his shirt stretches invitingly over his broad chest. The muscles of his arms, thick, even in rest. The narrowed lines of his hips. The well-groomed beard that hides his scowl. The wolf-like eyes that look down on everyone like a casualty waiting to happen. All the while, my brain rolls its metaphorical eyes, calling me out on my foolishness.
My chest tightens in error, this was a mistake. I know it. I shouldn’t have come. But, just as I’m about to turn and walk away without an explanation, he lets his gaze fall down to my hand, candy-appled boxing gloves held tightly in my grasp.
“Somethin’ wrong with them?” he asks.
My head shakes side-to-side, quick movements that scream out I’m nervous. “No.” I clear my throat.
“You don’t want them?” He growls, his face twisting unhappily.
“No,” I rush out. “I mean yes. Yes, I want them.”
Eyes narrowed on my face, I watch the deep swallow of his throat, the dense movement of his Adam’s apple up and down. “Beauty,” he sighs. “I get you don’t like me and you think I’m some kind of fucking demon, but I can’t read minds. So, either tell me what you need or I got better things to do than watch your eyes shoot daggers at me.”
“Teach me to fight,” I mumble hurriedly, the words twisting together in an incoherent mumble of drivel.
His blonde eyebrows reach for his hairline. “Sorry?”
“Please,” I add as an afterthought. “Please teach me how to fight.”
His head shakes and I feel my heart drop to my stomach.
“There’s places you can go for that. Trainers who will be able to show you.”
I blink in disappointment. “I don’t want the basics, Rocco,” I plead. “I don’t want to spend months learning stance and blocks. I want to fight. I want to ball up this