Traded (Blood Ties Book 5)

“You sure these are all there were?” Carven growled behind me.

My pulse pounded and my hands were sweaty as they gripped the armrests of the chair as I stared at the screen in London’s study, like I’d been for the last three hours. “I think so.”

“You…think so,” he repeated coldly.

I winced, then jerked my gaze to his. “It was a little hard to take a mental snapshot when I was fighting for my life.”

My words stopped him cold. He straightened slowly, then shifted his focus to the screen, etching to memory every name and face I’d picked out from The Order. But I no longer looked at the faces of my attackers. Not because I was sickened by the sight, but something else had captured my attention. Something that sat perched on the end of London’s desk…and seeped blood.

I flinched as Carven leaned across and hit the key to exit the screen. My reaction wasn’t lost on him, but he said nothing.

“You make sure you stay here.” He shifted his shoulder holster. “Text me if you need, otherwise I’ll be home later.”

Home.

We’d barely been here two weeks and already he was calling it home. Was this our life now? Moving around from safehouse to safehouse in a desperate attempt to survive? “I will,” I answered as familiar heavy footfalls sounded out in the hallway.

But it wasn’t Colt.

He’d been long gone when I woke up.

I’d searched his room, but found the sheets the same way I’d left them last night.

He hadn’t slept in his bed and he hadn’t slept in mine.

So where had he slept? And what the hell had happened last night?

Carven rounded the end of the desk and didn’t glance once at the package seeping blood. He was gone before I knew it, and left the frigid sting of retribution behind. I was under no illusion that it’d be any different with us.

We’d fuck.

We might even talk in stilted conversation.

But he wasn’t about to connect with me on any deep level.

That just wasn’t who he was.

Then I stared at the box, swallowed hard, and slowly reached out.

The brown wrapping paper was so…plain. I skimmed the taped down flap and gripped the thing, tilting it.

“Vivienne.” London stepped into the room.

I flinched and dropped the box as he came around the desk and opened the top drawer, then tucked an envelope inside.

“London.” I pushed up. “Sorry, I’m in your way.”

“Not at all.” He stepped back around and tossed his jacket across the back of the black leather sofa they’d brought from the other house.

It looked like Colt hadn’t been the only one up all night. There was a heaviness about him, one I’d never seen before. Gone was the stoic, unflinching male. His shoulders were curled, his breaths deeper.

I moved around the desk risked a glance at the box before I went to him. “London.”

He glanced my way and I saw fear…fear and worry.

Dark circles under his eyes made my heart ache. I reached up and touched the deep creases at the side of his face. “What have you been up to, London?’

He didn’t answer…but he didn’t need to.

I saw it all in the weariness of his eyes…and the blood that seeped from the box.

He was up to whatever it took.

“Did Carven…did he hurt you?”

Did he hurt me? Yes, a little. But I couldn’t tell him that, not with the way he looked at me. London was on his own rampage of revenge, one that was taking its toll. “Let’s just say we have an understanding.”

There was a tight twitch at the corner of his mouth. “Good.”

Still, those dark eyes pinned me in place. Heat rose instantly to drive away the ache between my thighs. He took a step and slid his fingers along my temple and through my hair. “Have you been taking your vitamins?”

I nodded.

“Good.” He moved until his powerful body pressed against me. Slowly, he leaned down and murmured into my ear. “Carven fucked you all night, but still you want me, pet?”

Now that was a question which deserved an answer. “Yes.”

Under some kind of spell, I trembled in front of the man.

“There’s no one like daddy, hmm?”

My core clenched as I licked my lips, mesmerized by his mouth so close to mine. Carefully, I turned my head and answered, “No.”

His grip on my head tightened. “Good girl.”

He picked me up and let me wrap my legs around his powerful waist. Carven and Colt were young and hungry, determined to ruthlessly fuck me every chance they got. But London…what he lacked in fervor he made up with depth.

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and lowered my mouth to his. His hard lips were gentle at first, until, in an instant, he consumed me and drove me backwards until we hit the desk.

I forgot all about the box with the blood.

I forgot all about Colt and Carven.

All I knew was him.

He lifted his head and met my stare, then looked down to where my hands were fisted in his shirt and my legs were wide, desperate for him.

“You are such a daddy’s girl, aren’t you, pet?” He reached down and those strong fingers ran a trail along the ache.

I clenched my ass and thrust against his touch. “Yes,” I whispered breathlessly. “Such a daddy’s girl.”

He let out a chuckle and that deep, rumbling sound did things to me no body part could. My nipples tightened and my core clenched. I knew without a doubt I was wet.

“Take me to the room with the machine, London.” I whispered, staring into eyes. “Take me to the room and fuck me.”

His chest rose with a deep breath…but then he shifted his gaze to the desk behind me.

“What the fuck…” he exclaimed, then stepped forward to set me on the desk. “The chip that was here, where is it?”

“Chip?” I slid off the desk and stared at the unopened bloody box and the paperwork still scattered near the monitor. “I didn’t see a chip.”

He jerked a pissed off glare my way and pointed to the mess. “It was right there.”

I shook my head. “There was no chip when I came in.”

With a savage growl, he shoved the paperwork aside and lifted the keyboard, then searched every inch of the desk before he yanked open the top drawer. “It was here last night.”

I moved closer, watching him turn frantic. “What was it?”

He jerked that panicked glare to me. “Everything there is on Ophelia.”

“Ophelia?” I whispered.

My stomach sank with the name. But under the fear was rage. I clenched my jaw as he tore the drawer apart, dumping the contents on the desk.

“What was on the chip, London?”

He stilled, his head bowed. Only this time he didn’t look at me when he answered. “Nothing.”

I flinched with the words. London St. James had been cruel when he invaded my life, tearing me from that place and holding me captive. He’d been brutal, demanding, obsessive. But the one thing he’d never been was a liar.

Until now…

His dark eyes were stricken as he grabbed his cell phone. He didn’t once look at me, just turned on his heel and strode from the room.

I stared at the mess, then the bloody box on his desk. “You fucking bitch,” I whispered. “You goddamn fucking bitch.”