I nodded, wondering if she realized how naive and adorable her question was. As if cheating got worse just because it was in her husband’s bed. “The guest room, the foyer, the kitchen…”
She threw her handbag at me, screaming in frustration, and I swing a leg over the black Ducati, starting it. The roar beneath me and the vibrations against my legs made me feel calmer instantly even if my heart was thundering in my chest.
I’d been a criminal all my life after her mother had landed me in juvie. It hadn’t been long, and it certainly could have been worse, but because I’d been living on the street before, my records never got expunged.
They would have, at eighteen, but by then everyone knew I was a kidnapper and dangerous. In the beginning I’d protested that, then I’d played with the reputation.
You were safer on the streets if people were afraid of you.
Drugs, gangs, guns—I’d seen it all.
Finding a job after that? Impossible.
And all just because Corinne Jones had paid me five bucks to pick up her daughter since she was running late. She’d even given me the fucking address of the house with the open door, and I’d entertained her daughter. It had taken a few days before I realized something was off—and by then the police had rushed in and I’d ended up with my face smashed into the floor.
This motorcycle though, this was the beginning of a new life, a better one.
The only thing I had to do was make sure Corinne Jones would fall—and that operation was well under way.
Chapter Two
Kip
Silvercrest’s elite clearly had a tough life.
Corinne’s husband had left the house at seven, like every morning while his wife probably was still in bed. This time around I didn’t care who’d see us.
What I had made sure of was that Anabelle wouldn’t be there anymore, and she’d taken her car just before I’d come up the street to her house. If she had seen me on my bike she hadn’t let on.
I wanted to talk to her, and I planned to, but not before I’d played the victim.
Ringing the doorbell, the maid opened. “Yes?”
“I need to talk to Mrs. Jones,” I stated with a smile, carrying my helmet in my hand. I had no doubt she knew who I was even if she just politely shook her head.
“The lady isn’t feeling well, and therefore—”
I brushed past her, calling out for my ‘lover’. “You better come down and talk to me or I swear I’ll—” I trailed off as the sound of feet rushing over expensive marble reached my ears and Corinne came flying down the staircase.
As I turned, the maid was nowhere to be seen. “What the hell, Corinne? You promised me that this was all private. When you let me go down on you, you said no one would be able to see!” I roared and she winced, holding her morning robe closed in front of her body.
“I don’t know why you are upset, Alex. You cannot be recognized! My husband came home, asking me if that was really me on the bike. I cannot believe anyone would be filming us.”
I could, but didn’t say that out loud. “Oh, and what did you tell him?”
She shrugged, proving that she was the queen of manipulation. “I had this yoga teacher a while back, and I called her, offered her twenty thousand and demanded of her to tell my husband she’d been early to our appointment and had been let in by the maid.”
That fucking bitch talked her way out of it.
“So… We’re good?”
She grabbed the zipper of my leather jacket. “We are so good, Alex… And if you want, I can make it up to you. You know, all those worries…”
“Who leaked the video?”
I stopped her hand, angry because she had managed to get out of it. Again.
Instantly her expression got murderous. “I don’t know, but I will find out. If I get caught cheating, Corey will divorce me. I cannot have that.”
I forced a smile, starting to walk around the foyer. “Oh, come on. Corey surely has skeletons in his closet. As do you, my sweetest Corinne…” Returning to her, I forced a smile onto my lips. “Then again, I am your first affair, right? You’re way too innocent for a town like Silvercrest.”
And it had taken me a few months to gain her trust in one of the country clubs, but now…
“Yes, but I’m not as innocent as you think.”
It sounded as if she felt insulted and I sensed my chance. “You’re not?” I reached into my pocket, blindly trying to open the recorder app. I knew where it was, had used it enough before, but now prayed it would work. I turned it up as much as I could. “I don’t believe that.”
She crossed her arms. “I got custody of my daughter.”
I arched a brow. “So? Many women do because they are the safer choice.” I waved her off.
“Do they get it by initiating their own daughter’s kidnapping?”
I spun, pretending to be surprised. “You did not! Naughty girl!”
She giggled, as if proud with herself. “A few messages here, a few bucks there… And bam, she was gone for three days. And then, afterward, I made sure I discredited her father and the boy who kidnapped her. It was easy. He was one of those lost in the system. You know, a boy on the streets. He’s probably dead by now.”
I wanted to strangle her. Instead, I brushed my finger down her cheek. “And no one ever found out? I cannot believe that.”
She shrugged. “Oh please. I spent a hundred bucks in total on people from the street. They said he was a bad one, abusive, and when my daughter was brought to the hospital, they found injuries on her. It was easy. So easy. And my husband, poor Sebastian, lost her because he neglected her. And then, he lost everything else, too. His empire fell because no
