Free Cado by D.T. Dyllin Page B

calm.
    “You could. But you won’t.” I’d expected threats from him. And I wasn’t fool enough to think that he wouldn’t do something to Moretti. We both knew he could get away with it. Hell, he’d probably try to pin that on me too.
    He tilted his head in question. “Oh? And why won’t I?” He grabbed a handful of hair and pulled me off of the mattress. “I told you I didn’t want you to fuck anyone else. I told—”
    “No one orders me around, Lucian. And no one owns me,” I snarled. “You won’t hurt him because if you do—if you do—I’ll find a way to make you pay. That’s a promise.”
    Lucian’s mask of fury slid away, and slowly—ever so slowly, his lips tipped up into a smile. “You are quite a surprise even after all this time.” He let me go and backed up slowly, raising his hands in surrender. “Fine. I will not hurt him. This time. But don’t think you can threaten me either, my Karma. You won’t like the game anymore if you do.”
    He disappeared into thin air right in front of me. “Anymore? Who said I liked the game to begin with?” I glanced over at Moretti who was still sleeping soundly. How the hell was he a cop if he slept through that? Seriously? Unless… I shuddered. Unless Lucian had more abilities than I could fathom.
    I lay back down and waited. I knew sleep would elude me but I really had nothing else to do but think. I needed to figure out a plan. The whole denial thing wasn’t working for me anymore. Lucian had made sure to take that away from me too.
     

     
    After several hours of lying beside Moretti, him soundly asleep, and me not so much, I decided to give up. I stole one of his shirts, which was practically a nightgown on me, and went to explore his kitchen. I reheated a few slices of pizza leftovers and made some instant hot chocolate. While I sipped my subpar beverage, because let’s face it, instant hot chocolate isn’t that great, I opened Moretti’s laptop and clicked it on. Thankfully it wasn’t password protected. I was kind of curious what I’d missed in the past week while I’d been M.I.A. Online news sites was where I sometimes found my targets. It’s how I ended up in Pittsburgh to begin with.
    Several stories caught my attention. One was of a Texas fireman who’d shot two dogs that trespassed on his property. Afterwards he’d taken a photo and proudly posted it on Facebook . The picture was a part of the article. My blood boiled. My gaze shifted between the dead dogs and the smug expression on the man’s face. I wished I could do exactly to him what he’d done to those dogs. Or even better, I wanted…yes… I wanted to torture him first. I wanted to look in his eyes and to see as the knowledge of what I was about to do to him and why finally dawned on him. I wanted to make him suffer.
    I slammed the mug down on the kitchen table and swore as hot liquid sloshed out over my hand. I’d wanted to erase the image of the couple on the hill, and I had. I’d replaced it with the image of the man and the dead dogs in my mind’s eye.
    “Hey,” Moretti rasped as he entered the kitchen, his voice still sleep laden. “I guess I should thank you for not making a run for it.” His smile was surprisingly unguarded.
    “Yeah, well, where would I go and how would I get there? I don’t have my I.D. or any money.”
    “There is that.” He scuffled over to the table and I couldn’t help but admire his toned body. He wore nothing but a pair of boxer shorts, which showed a whole lot of the tanned, muscled, yumminess. He picked up the mug on the table and sniffed at it. “This is not what I was hoping for,” he grunted. “The coffee maker is right there on the counter, you know.”
    I chuckled. Moretti was kind of amusing when he first woke up. “I didn’t want coffee. You see, caffeine doesn’t mix well with insomnia.”
    He grunted as he made his way over to the coffee maker. After it was running he leaned against the counter and studied