Relentless (Starcrossed Lovers Trilogy #3) - Jade West Page 0,9

ever. Delivering Elaine’s revenge was the most rewarding torture I’d ever given.

I was running out of time with the shots ringing out, and I knew it. The course was big and people were distant, but they were audible. Questions would surely be asked, and asked quickly.

I got the fuck out of there as quickly as I fucking could.

Only it wasn’t quick enough. Not as the dominos started tumbling.

My cell was alive with news and whispers. My father as close to the tendrils as anyone else on the scene.

They were coming for us. Right fucking now.

5

Elaine

I started packing as soon as the Merc had left the driveway. My hands were jittery, but that was okay. It was good to have them occupied.

It took barely any time before I’d folded and packed almost every item of clothing from Lucian’s closet. I’d boxed up several pairs of his shoes, and the bulk of toiletries we wouldn’t need to use before leaving, and then I’d dug into his most private space and packed his dream journal and fountain pen and the watch with RHM on the leather strap. I was on a mission, getting us ready to roll.

My jitters were even worse when I was done. I drifted aimlessly around the place, chewing at my nails, staying inside with the door locked—just like I promised Lucian. As much as the grass outside was calling me, tempting me to head outside for some fresh air, I wouldn’t break my promise. As much as I wanted to venture out and see the mound of dirt we’d thrown over Reverend Lynch’s body, I didn’t. I didn’t break my promise to Lucian.

Still, I’d stare at it from the window. I’d stare at that dirty grave and think of the disgusting body inside it with a flame down deep inside me. Fuck you, you sick asshole.

I was so fucking glad he was dead.

Reverend Lynch’s pit of a resting place was a beacon, thrilling me, but there was more to it than that. I couldn’t deny the thoughts that were tickling my mind. Thoughts of what Lucian might be doing as I waited for him to come home that could be so damn important. So damn important, and so private that he had chosen to keep it from me.

Where could he be?

If he wasn’t at Morelli Holdings, and we weren’t getting flights on our escape run until tomorrow, then where the hell could Lucian be?

I knew there was something dark and deep about what he’d headed off to do, stepping out into the world when we should surely be hiding in here as quietly as we could and counting down the minutes. I also knew, just an inkling, but a powerful one, that what he was doing had something to do with me. I was still in shock about that—a powerful beast of a man like Lucian on a mission to do something for a little fuckup of a girl like me.

There was a strange pleasure to it, better than the greatest cocaine buzz I’d ever felt. It made my heart soar to mean that much to someone. I’d never felt so wanted, or so important, or so validated.

That tickle was deep and strong in me. The whisper that maybe, just maybe, someone else who deserved it would be joining Reverend Lynch in hell.

I couldn’t even hope.

One hour felt like a lifetime as I waited with the suitcases all packed and ready to go, so hell only knew how long twenty-four of them would feel like as we waited to make our run overseas. The minutes were dragging so slow they could cripple me. Still I drifted, thought, stared out of the window. Drifted, thought, stared out of the window.

I couldn’t do it. Not all through the afternoon.

I stopped drifting around the house enough to put the TV on once another twenty minutes had crawled on by, expecting to see my face staring back out at me like usual. Only it wasn’t my face staring back out at me. Not this time.

As it turns out, I wasn’t quite prepared for it.

I knew we were in some serious trouble the moment the photograph came up onscreen.

If you have any information about this man, journalist Terence Kingsley, then please call the number below.

Oh fuck.

They knew about Terence Kingsley.

The face on the photograph wasn’t Lucian, but it was close enough to pass by at a glance. He was wearing the same style shirt and the same glasses—right down to the exact mahogany shade