Taboo Unchained(75)
When she turns to smile at me, it takes every ounce of self-control that I have not to reach out and wrap my hands around her throat. But I know that if I do it right here, right now, I won't let go until the bitch bubbles out her last saliva soaked breath.
“If I had any clue what the hell you were talking about, this threat may actually hold some credence.” Clarice looks unsure for a moment and then shakes her head violently.
“No, no, no,” she says, moving close to me, so close that I can smell the sickly sweet scent of peach schnapps on her breath. Dear God. “You are not going to manipulate me today, Lucas Carter.” Clarice steps back and grabs the front door, whispering harsh and guttural under her breath. In her next words, I can see the demon bright and clear, the soul of a girl who drowned her own sister. At least in my case, the only people I've killed have been murderers, rapists, and pedophiles. “If the surprise I dug up on my property really doesn't belong to you, then you have nothing to worry about.” Clarice adjusts the white wool coat she has hanging over her left arm. “Here's what I'm going to do. If you're not at my house tomorrow by six in the evening, I'm calling the police. Not your body, not your problem, right?”
“You are a desperate, sad woman with a terrible future,” I admit, keeping a soft smile on my face. “Now get the fuck out of my house and don't come back. If I see you here again, I'm going to file stalking charges.”
“Go ahead and try, Lucas. I have money, and I get what I want.”
I step up to Clarice suddenly, glad that the curtains are still closed, and I rest the blade of my pocket knife against her throat. The throb and pulse of her neck makes the demons in me go crazy, crying for blood as they fight to force my hand forward, draw that first drop into their hungry mouths.
“Money won't protect you from the wrath of a philandering psychopath, will it, Clarice?” I press a little harder, leaning into the knife with purpose. I want this blonde bitch to know exactly how much of a threat I really am. “Any snarky commentary you'd like to add, Mrs. Braxton?” Clarice swallows several times before bringing her hands up and wrapping them around my wrist. I hate the touch so much, that I actually pull back, flicking the blade back into place and tucking the weapon into my pocket.
“Kill me now or be at my place tomorrow by six. If not, I'm calling the cops. If you want to come after me then, so be it. They'll probably give you and your little girlfriend the death sentence.” Clarice slams the door hard enough to shake the windows. That, and probably draw attention from all directions. I allow myself a scowl as I flick the deadbolt back into place.
“Birdbrained little slut,” I snarl, letting the anger take hold for a split second. How am I going to deal with this? The obvious solution is to simply take Clarice back as a client, let her grow tired of me. The only problem with that is my complete and utter distaste for threats. I am not a whore, despite what some may think, and I refuse to be forced into sleeping with a woman I haven't chosen. Whether it's for business or pleasure, the act is my choice – as it is for all of us. Or rather, how it should be, how it needs to be.
First things first, I have to deal with the Robbie situation, figure out some way to get her out of here without anyone seeing. This search party thing is blowing up quickly. That, and Robbie's father has surveillance cameras stationed around his house. I have no idea how much of the altercation they might've caught, but if he gets it in his mind to check them and sees me … I'll be in twice as much trouble as I'm in now.
I open the bathroom door, just a sliver, and accidentally catch sight of Robbie's naked body, sprawled out on the floor. Panic sets in, slicing my heart with cold shivers.
“Robbie!” I fall to my knees next to her body, hands grasping her shoulders and dragging her into my lap. She gasps, blue eyes flicking open, palms pressing into my chest as I cradle her close. “What happened?” I ask, wanting to feel her over for injuries. As far as I can see, however, Robbie's in perfect shape. Perfect shape.
“I was a little warm, so I climbed out and sat here to wait. I forgot that the door was unlocked. I was expecting you to knock.” Robbie flushes, and I cringe. “I know it's weird, but I like to sit with the steam sometimes and just, you know, think.”
“It's not weird,” I tell her, trying to force myself to release her naked body and step away. My cock is rigid and full, pressing against the denim of my jeans. It would only take seconds to bury myself inside of her. Seconds. “You need to go home,” I say instead. Robbie nods her head and starts to pull away. I release her with a physical shudder passing through me.