Chaotic (L.O.R.D.S. #7) — Chapter no 6

SIX

EV ERETT

’ve been kept hid den all my life. I was al ways supposed to be aI se cret—a no one. And I’ve al ways been okay with that. The Lords have shown me that you’re the only person you can count on. Hell, let’s face it, that can go for anyone, Lords world or not.

But I’ve been seen. The one person I’ve wanted to avoid has come back into my life, and all I can do is hope he doesn’t want to remi‐ nisce.

Last week, Kashton Landon Pierce walked into my life, just like he did six years ago, and he had me just as flustered as he did back then. But this time, I couldn’t show it, because he wasn’t alone.

It’s been one week since Kash ton and Haidyn were at the cathe‐ dral, and one of them is following me.

He thinks I haven’t noticed him, but I see everything. I’m al ways watching my surroundings. A woman can never be too care ful. We’re targets. No matter whether it’s someone we know or not.

I can feel him.

That same heat rushes over my skin, as if I’ve been lit on fire.

Those butterflies flutter in my stomach so vio lently I think I’m going to get sick, and it has nothing to do with why I’m here tonight.

It hasn’t stopped me from living my life though. I have a job to do, and I’m not going to let a man dictate that. Men al ready have too

much power over women.

“May I buy you a drink?”

I look up from the glass of bourbon sitting on the bar to see a man standing next to me under the neon lights. “Of course.” I give him a shy smile.

Who the fuck turns down free drinks? Definitely not a woman sit‐ ting alone at a bar.

He pulls out the barstool next to me and gestures to the bartender.

“I’ll have a scotch, and the lady will have another.”

I readjust my position at the way he calls melady. I know the man was being polite, but it’s something I’ll never be in our world.

I’ll never belong to a Lord. No one would want me. Not long-term anyway. A one-night stand? Absolutely, but that’s not a com pliment or re as suring. A man will fuck anything. Literally.

“So what brings you to this place?” the man asks, turn ing his atten‐ tion to me.

I pick up the glass and down what’s left since I have another one coming. “Just needed a night out,” I an swer.

“Oh no. Boy trouble?” His eyes drop to my left hand to see if I’m mar ried. The thought makes me want to vomit. Or is that those damn butterflies from the man sitting in the darkly lit booth back in the corner?

Marriage is over rated and pointless. Like look at this man sitting next to me. He’s married. He didn’t even bother to take his ring off before he offered to buy me a drink. I know what some would think…he’s just a nice guy offer ing a woman a drink while we share a point less conver sa tion. It’s harm less.

Wrong. The way his eyes are glued to my chest tells me all I need to know about him. He’s def initely think ing about fuck ing me, and if given the chance, he’d jump on top of that. Or me.

Sucks for him. I’m not letting a dick anywhere near me.

“Here you go.” The bartender sets our glasses down, and I turn to the man who bought my new drink, thanking him.

He clanks his glass into mine. “What do you say we fin ish these and get out of here?”

I shouldn’t be surprised by how quickly he offered that. Pathetic, re ally. He pays for a twelve-dollar drink, and I’m supposed to kneel before him and open my mouth so he can fuck it while I pre tend to

enjoy it.

“A place a little quieter?”

“I have a mo tel room next door.” I give him that shy smile that makes him squirm on his barstool. He can’t wait to pin me down and fuck me. I can’t wait to put a knife in his fuck ing throat and watch the life drain out of his eyes. “I’m just in town for the night,” I add.

Let him know that he’ll never have to see me again. No strings at‐ tached.

He tosses back his drink and slams his glass on the bar top, calling the bartender over to pay for the two drinks.

I sip on mine, ignor ing the man who watches me from across the run-down bar. He may be a problem in more ways than one. Hope‐ fully he stays out of my way. I’d hate to have to kill them both.

“Ready?” The man gets up from his seat and places his wallet in‐ side his suit jacket. He stands out among the crowd that hangs out here.

His three-piece suit screams money. I’m sure he has a Maserati parked outside and a Lords crest branded on his chest.

I’m wearing a pair of black fishnet tights, a black leather miniskirt, and a matching corset, with my hair up in a high pony. I dressed like a two-dollar hooker for a reason. Easy target. He won’t pay enough attention to notice that I’m wearing Louboutins. My over-the-top makeup is done with black shadow that I purposely smeared to make it look like I’ve been on a three-day binge, and my red lipstick is meant to draw attention.

I fall off the side of my heel, so he places his hands on my waist to try to steady me.

“Been here for a while?” he asks, hopeful.

Men consider a drunk woman an easy conquest. “Guess I had more than I thought.” I lean into his side, and he smiles down at me.

He helps me out of the bar and walks me across the parking lot.

“Room 111,” I inform him, re moving the cheap plastic key chain from my clutch. Anyone who says I’m not sentimental doesn’t know me very well.

He’s a gentleman and opens it for me since I can’t seem to do it myself. Stepping into the room, I shut and lock it behind me, hoping that the Spade brother stays the fuck out.

KASHTON

I watch her shut the door to her mo tel room the mo ment I step out of the bar. The thought of her being alone with him makes my blood boil. I’m going to storm in, yank her off him, and force her to watch me cut off his dick.

My hands shook with rage. Just sitting there watching him look her over like a piece of meat had my hand on my gun.

After re moving the pack of cigarettes from my pocket, I light one up, needing a quick hit to calm my nerves before I rush inside the room. I don’t want to hurt her. Just teach her a lesson that she won’t forget—she be longs to me.

Bringing it to my lips, I take in a long drag as the door to the mo tel room opens, and she walks out, closing it behind her.

I frown, taking a quick step to the right to hide in the shadows.

Well, that wasn’t enough time to have sex. Not sex worth having anyway.

Maybe I had this all wrong. Was she buy ing drugs? Selling him drugs?

The only plausi ble answer is that they were exchanging some thing that couldn’t be done in public.

She pulls a trench coat tightly closed, tying it off, and her designer heels slap the water pud dles that litter the aban doned parking lot.

She doesn’t seem nearly as drunk as she looked a couple of minutes ago. Was she faking it? If so, why? Eve walks to her car parked right by the door of the mo tel room. Getting in, she starts it, and the re‐ verse lights come on.

I watch her pull out onto the road and re main where I’m at until her taillights fade into the darkness.

Throw ing the cigarette down, I make my way across the parking lot and glance around. It’s an old, practically aban doned one-story mo‐ tel. Half the letters on the sign don’t work and the paint has faded from countless years of sun damage. The number on the door reads 111. But it’s different from the oth ers. It’s been carved with a knife and seems oddly familiar. Like the three lines that were on her hip when I finger-fucked her on the yacht. Now that she’s left, there are no other cars other than what’s at the bar.

I touch the knob and twist it, opening the door to the room she va‐ cated.

Stepping inside, I look over the man who lies in the center of the bed. He’s naked except for the dress slacks bunched around his an‐ kles.

His throat is slashed from ear to ear. The visual gives me a feeling of unease. Blood covers the al ready dingy sheets, along with his

chest, neck, and parts of his face.

I’m equally impressed and confused.

Was this a job? If so, what kind? Was she robbing him? Blackmail‐ ing him?

Surely, some sort of exchange was involved, and it went south, re‐ quiring her to defend herself. Or she knew she was bringing him in here to kill him. But why him and why here, of all places?

Walk ing to the bathroom, I grab a towel and wet it. Then I go over to the body and run it over his blood-covered chest. What I see makes me pause. He has a Lords crest branded on his chest—a cir‐ cle with three horizontal lines through it.

Was she targeting him, or was he targeting her? I watched her clean up a Lord at the cathedral. He had been part of a confes sional, so I know she wasn’t the one to torture him. So why this Lord? Was she supposed to deliver him to the cathedral, and things es calated so quickly that she had to take care of him here?

She knew what she was doing. She was pre pared. There’s no other reason she would have sat at the bar for over an hour, speaking to no one, then suddenly engage with him as soon as he sat down.

Within five minutes, they had walked over to a mo tel room. One she was conve niently parked in front of.

Her trench coat? Where did it come from? It had to have al ready been here in the room; she didn’t have it at the bar.

Everett set this up. Her appearance and actions screamedI’m drunk and a cheap fuck. But it was a façade. Part of her game. She lures men in and seduces them in order to kill.

It makes me wonder if I killed the guy for her on theIsabella be‐ cause she wanted me to or because he re ally was going to rape her.

After see ing what’s in front of me, I’m thinking the former.

I smile to myself. She did good, but I’m not surprised. She’s a pro.

Been do ing it for years. That night on theIsabella all those years ago wasn’t a cry for help. Everett didn’t need me to save her.

It was just another job. She wanted to play, switch it up. So she pre tended to be a whore for that Lord. What man would pass up do‐ ing whatever the fuck he wanted to a woman because he’s paying for it? Not a Lord. Money can buy you anything you want, and the Lords have plenty of it.

That also explains why she willingly threw herself at me after I saved her that night. She had fallen off her heels. Eve was pre tend‐ ing that night too. Letting him think she was weak and easy.

But he was my initiation. Was I supposed to kill him before or after he’d raped her? It doesn’t make any sense.

I glance around the room for a murder weapon. Other than a small purse, she wasn’t carrying anything on her body when we ar rived at the bar, and she didn’t walk out with a knife when she left this mo tel room.

Glancing around, nothing stands out. I open the nightstand, and

what I see makes me pause.

A Bible.

I’m sure each mo tel room has one, but the sight of it has my pulse racing. I slam the drawer shut and walk to the small closet over by the corner and open the door to see that it’s empty. Rubbing my chin, I make my way back to the bed and pull up the corner of the

comforter.

Bingo.

I yank the black duffel bag from underneath the bed and unzip it.

In side, there’s a hammer, some rope, a gun with a suppres sor, and a knife. It’s been cleaned because the handle is still wet.

Fuck, she works fast. In and out before I could even walk across the parking lot. Was she afraid I’d intervene like last time? That I’d fuck up her plan?

I hear a buzzing sound and zip up the bag, shoving it back where I found it before looking around the run-down mo tel room. It’s old and in the middle of nowhere next to a biker bar. The carpet is stained and smells of cigarette smoke and body odor. A single

queen-size bed, an old TV that sits on top of a dresser, and a small bench at the foot of the bed are all that are in here.

That buzzing continues, and I crouch down and start digging through the pockets of his slacks around his ankles.

Pulling a cell out, I see WIFE lit up, and I smile to myself. Pocket ing the phone, I exit the room and head back to my car, leaving her goody bag behind. I need to get home. I have some re search to do on my angel.

“Coming Down” by Five Fin ger Death Punch fills the speakers in my car as I drive away.

I pull up to Carnage thirty minutes later and make my way down to the basement. Haidyn hasn’t been here lately. He’s too attached to Charlotte’s pussy, I guess, to come home. Not sure what’s going on with them because he doesn’t talk to Saint or me about it.

Things have been crazy around here. We found out where Ashtyn was hiding, and I went to Ve gas to drag her back with Saint. Then she and Haidyn were kidnapped. We thought he’d died, and once again, Ashtyn re turned. Then we find out Adam was involved. After‐ ward, Haidyn left, and now he shows back up with the woman Saint and I hired to be his therapist. And now Eve is back in my life.

I’m losing my mind trying to keep up.

Saint stands by the pits, washing blood off his hands. “Where have you been?” he asks, looking up at me.

“Out,” I say. I haven’t told him about Eve, and I don’t plan to. Not until she’s officially mine. They’re both wrapped up in their own lives.

He goes to open his mouth, but my cell rings, and I re move it from my pocket to see it’s Haidyn.Speak of the devil. “Hello?” I answer.

“Hey,” he greets me.

“What’s up, man?”

Saint mouths, “Haidyn?” and I nod. Glad to know I’m not the only one he’s choosing to ignore. There’s been tension there since Saint found out that Haidyn knew where Ashtyn had been and that he’d had contact with Adam.

“Where the fuck are you? I tried calling you last night.”

“I was at Charlotte’s,” he answers, like I’m supposed to know where that’s at. He’s not the one I’ve been following. “I need a favor.”

I place him on speaker phone. “Name it.”

“I need you to come get Charlotte. She’s at her house.”

I look at Saint, and we both frown. “And where are you?” I dig.

Why is he being so vague?

“I have somewhere to be,” he an swers.

“Haidyn—”

“Tell Saint I’m sorry,” he interrupts me, and my heart begins to race at his words. What the fuck is he about to do?

“What the fuck is going on, Hai dyn?” Saint barks, stepping closer to me and speaking into my cell. He also knows something is up.

“Nothing,” he lies. “I just need you to understand that I’m sorry for what I did.”

Fuck. Fuck. What the hell has happened? Who is this Charlotte any‐ way? We don’t know who this bitch is. I didn’t even know he had been fuck ing her. The Lords gave us a roster to choose from to get

him help or else, so we picked her.

“Haidyn,” Saint snaps.

“Charlotte is at her house. I’ll send you the address.” He hangs up on me.

“Fuck,” Saint shouts. “What in the fuck is he do ing?”

“I don’t know,” I snap defensively. “He’s been ignor ing me too.”

My cell beeps with an incoming mes sage from Haidyn with her ad‐ dress. “Let’s go.” I turn, and we race toward the ele vator.