Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 85490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Jackal: I want to come on your tongue, baby. And I want you to swallow it all. I’m going to make you ride that big dildo again, but this time, you’ll suck me off as you do it. Then I’ll fill you with my cock as you come, and I’ll leave you a messy puddle of moans and cum when I’m through with you. I want to make you sweat, baby, and make you moan, and make you scream.
I stroke myself faster, growling with bliss, and she’s doing the same thing on her end. I wait for her to come, back arching, making these incredible mewling noises as the orgasm rushes through her. I let myself finally release, biting back a growl, only aware of Valentina in the other room as I finish.
“Jackal,” Laura whispers. She rolls onto her side and I watch her lick her fingers clean. “Just like you’d ask me to. I wish you were here.”
Jackal: Good girl.
Jackal: I wish I was there too.
Jackal: Goodnight.
I have to log off. Watching her lick her fingers, listening to her tell me how much she wants me to be there with her, it’s destroying what little resolve I have left.
I need to tell her who I am. It might ruin what we have, and she might not want to see me anymore, but I have to take that chance.
I wake up early the next morning. Valentina’s still sleeping, which is exactly the biggest surprise in the world. I head into the kitchen and make myself some coffee, and I’m groggy as I log into Laura’s camera system on my phone. I flip from spot to spot, but she’s not in the basement or in the kitchen, and she’s not anywhere in her room where her laptop can see her.
Jackal: Are you hiding from me, little demon? If you go where the cameras can’t see you, I’m going to break into your house and install even more.
I hit send and smile to myself as I start on breakfast. The only surefire way to get Valentina’s ass off my couch is to wake her up with bacon. Anything less and she’ll lounge around until noon.
The bacon’s sizzling nicely, but there’s no response from Laura. I check the cameras a second time, and everything’s exactly as I left it. I linger on the laptop feed and stare at the room: her bed is made and I can tell her shower is still damp. Which means she’s awake and showered already, but it’s only a little past eight in the morning.
Where is my girl going?
I’m too curious. I grab my laptop from my office and set it up on the island as I cook. Since I hacked her phone and cloned its SIM data, I can tap into her tracking information. It only takes a few minutes for my automated programs to start spooling data onto my screen, and a dot appears on a map of Chicago. I zoom in, frowning, and zoom in again, and a cold, sinking feeling fills my body.
That can’t be right. I double-check the information, triple-check, go over every little detail, but nothing changes.
Laura’s phone is inside my building.
I can’t tell where she is exactly. The tracking doesn’t give me that much detail. I’m on the top floor, and she could be anywhere nearby. But that’s not possible—there’s no way she knows that Jackal lives here.
I’ve been careful. She hasn’t seen my face. And even if she did, that wouldn’t necessarily give her enough information to track down where I live. My head’s spinning and I forget all about breakfast until the smell of burning bacon fills the kitchen. I yank the pan off the heat, cursing, on the edge of panic.
Valentina’s sleep voice floats in from the living room. “Are you cooking? Smells like it burned.”
I’m about to tell her everything’s fine when someone knocks on the door.
Chapter 22
Laura
Ipark the car outside of a condo building at the edge of the lake and wonder if this is a terrible idea.
Marco Vitale’s dossier is spread out on my lap. I flip through the pages, skimming them briefly, and it quickly becomes obvious that nothing good will come of this.
But my fingers brush across his image. It’s a candid shot, taken a few years back. He’s sitting near the window at a restaurant talking to a young man. His face is serious and intense, with that square jaw I remember, and the same nose, and those lips—the lips I need to taste again—and his head of thick, dark hair.
It has to be Jackal. Of all the profiles my brother gave me, Marco fits it the best, and his face looks like it’s right. I can’t be totally sure, but he fits. Right age, right build, right height, right skin color. Everything about him fits.