It was the way my sweet little mouse was staring up at him.
Nothing could deny it, even though she was getting drunk on beer, and gin, and whatever the fuck else pussy boy was delivering to her. There was no way to avoid seeing the obvious.
The guy was huge, a trunk of a man with muscles rippling under his metal-loving tee. His hair was dark and slick, and his eyes were as deep as mine were. Almost.
It was enough. Enough for my sexy little bitch to want a piece of him. She wanted the cunt on that stage.
I wanted to kill him for it.
It made no sense, not a bit. It should mean fuck all to me whose dick one of the Constantine bitches were chasing after. I should be convinced this was the right location to finish her off, wipe her out and be done with it, never to think about the needy princess again, but I knew it wouldn’t happen.
Jesus Christ, I needed to get a fucking grip.
I shouldn’t be in that damn fucking club, with her damn fucking tracker beeping through to my cell. I shouldn’t be anywhere near her. Shouldn’t be thinking about her. Shouldn’t be wanting anything to fucking do with her other than her demise. But still, I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t stop myself.
All through his set she was cheering for the dick on stage, and all through his set I was gritting my teeth at the sight of it. I was wound up all the more when I caught sight of worse, a whole load fucking worse – the way he looked back across the room at her when he lifted his hands in the air and said his see you later to the crowd. He was gazing after her as hard as she was gazing after him. I could have slit his throat if I hadn’t been barren of blades to slice him up with.
Elaine was her usual drunken self as the night wound its way on, downing her drinks one after the other. The Blue Hawk prick was up next, and she was trashed enough to bop around on the dancefloor, past giving a shit for who the fuck was hunting her down.
Stupid. Little. Bitch. She should only dance for me.
Pussy boy was dancing next to her, both of them leaping around to dickhead’s punk rock shit as I weaved my way closer. She didn’t even know I was looming. Didn’t care.
That only made me want her even more.
I was planning on leaping out and grabbing her as soon as she was off that dancefloor, just as soon as that Hawk prick said his goodnight to the crowd, but I didn’t get the chance. No sooner had the stage cleared than pussy boy took hold of Elaine’s hand and raced her through the doors backstage, and the two of them were gone. Gone and out of sight.
No fucking way. I’d missed my grab and take.
I should’ve walked away rather than using my name to clear my route to my prey, but I didn’t. I was straight on after her, slamming into the security bouncers as I pushed my way backstage.
“Get the fuck off me,” I hissed at them, but they didn’t move, just took my arms in theirs and pinned me back against the brickwork.
They should’ve known who I was. They should have seen it in my fucking eyes, but they didn’t. They were fucking fools who fucking didn’t.
“Backstage is off limits,” the one fool grunted, and I lashed out at him, kneeing him hard enough in the groin to watch him fall.
“I’m Lucian fucking Morelli,” I snarled, with my foot on his chest as he squirmed. “I’m Lucian fucking Morelli, and you’ll let me through backstage or regret it for the rest of your sorry life.”
I knew my name would spread. There was no way word of my attendance at this dive wouldn’t make its way uptown as well as downtown, and it was the last thing I needed, shit from my father on top of the shit from my event cancellation. My father was a man of steel and Morelli law; he didn’t suffer fools, not even when those fools were blood related. Especially not when those fools were blood related. Hell help me. Hell save my filthy damn soul. But I didn’t have time for that now.
The doormen weren’t fools enough to challenge me. The guy on the floor kept on squirming, letting out another groan as I planted my boot in his ribs on my way over him. The other guy swung the door backstage wide open, tipping his head down low as I passed.
I paced through, head turning frantically back and forth to find the temptress I was hunting, but I couldn’t hear her. I couldn’t hear shit. No backstage voices, or backstage anything down the corridor ahead of me, there was nothing but a round of empty bottles in the dressing room.
That’s when I heard her laughter – just one small giggle through the rear door to the parking lot, and the sound of a car door slamming shut.
I caught one glimpse of her in the cab as it pulled away. She was sitting in the backseat next to her brutish prick from onstage, with her pussy boy mate and his dick conquest piled in along with them.
Damn it, they had somewhere to be going.
So did I.
I pulled up the tracker, and then I called a fucking cab.
My Constantine toy didn’t have long left to play with strangers. I was on my way to hunt her down.
18 Elaine
“Remind me, baby girl. What’s your name?” the guy asked me in the backseat.
He was Stephen. Stephen from London. My head was
