Page 67 of When Sinners Hate

“No,” I snarl, looking around me.

“Well, that’s the signal. Get climbing. She’ll be above you somewhere.”

I swing back through the corridor until I reach the elevators. They make me wait so I head for the damn stairs and travel up to the next floor. Again, I’m met with nothing but a fucking maid’s closet in the hallway.

The next floor brings me out at a hotel room. I knock. No fucking answer, so I switch Knox off and call to see if I can hear her phone coming back at me. Nothing. “FUCK!”

Redial Knox.

“Do I need to get there?” he asks.

“No. Stay on that signal.”

Three more floors go by, every one of them giving me the same kind of nothing other than one with a guy and his kid answering the door. Another level and I’m so goddamn infuriated with everything that I could kill. I switch Knox off again and call Lexi’s phone. This time I hear it come back at me from inside the room. Both my hands brace the frame, attempting to hold me back from what I know is coming if she is fucking someone.

Rage swells regardless, and I start kicking and barging at the door until it breaks in and gives me access. I look straight atthe bed, then the lounge area in the corner, then the door to the bathroom.

“NO! Get the hell off me!” Lexi’s voice shouts.

Five strides through the room and I’m turning to the bathroom. A guy stands there shielding himself with my wife, who is naked from the waist up and shaking in his grip. I take my time assessing the situation, trying to make up my mind if this was true fucking or rape, because she’s clever enough to make me think what she needs me to think. Torn dress, wild hair. I clock the slight mark on her neck and red print on her face, and then take in the tremble on her skin. I know that well. She’s scared.

“That’s my wife.” She stares at me, pleading for help with her eyes without saying a word. “Let. Her. Go.”

He doesn’t. He tries pushing her forward into me to make me back out of the room. He isn't going anywhere. One hard shove from me into her and he loosens his grip enough to let me get around her. She gets barged aside at the same time as his hair gets grabbed, and I send four solid hits into his guts. He reels straight over the bathtub, so I slam his head at the wall a few times to make sure he feels my rage.

I climb in after him and use my knee to keep his chest down, running the faucet and using his body to stop the water draining out.

“Abel … I–”

“Shut the fuck up. Go close the door.”

She leaves, and I watch the guy struggle under me as the water level rises. My hand covers his mouth to stop the shouts and mumbled calls for help, and I keep staring until the fear really kicks in. Understanding dawns for him in that moment. Nothing’s going to get him out of this. Arms flail. Legs struggle. I keep fucking holding. I don’t know if she watches the rest of it or not, nor do I give a damn. He touched her, and whether shewanted it or not isn’t the goddamn point. No one touches her. Ever. No one flirts with her or lays a fucking hand on her, let alone fucks her – for any reason – ever again. Only me.

He splutters and coughs, gasping for air he’s not gonna get and sends water splashing around. I just keep waiting for the level to rise, keep thinking about his hands on my wife and the way he dared glare at me. Maybe, in that fucked-up time while I'm watching him die, I can see her face under mine on a bed, or hear her laugh the other night. Whatever it is in my head, it’s tarnished with hatred and anger and vengeance flowing through me until it’s done and there’s a lifeless body submerged under water.

“Abel?” I look sideways, watching her hover in the doorway. “I didn’t …” She trembles and looks down at the guy, then up the wall at the smeared blood. “I …”

I slowly get myself out of the tub, switching the faucet off at the same time and pull my phone out. She hurries away from me, as I pass her, and three rings later Dante answers.

“Bring two suitcases, a heavy cutting blade, cleaning kit and some dry pants. Grimaldi’s. Room six twenty-four.”

“Twenty minutes.”

I end the call and stare at her over by the bed.

That’s twenty minutes of me in the same room as her. It’s also twenty fucking minutes of me not being calm enough to deal with anything other than my own rage.

I turn for the window, shoving my hands in my pockets to contain them. “Sit your ass down. Cover yourself. And don’t say a fucking word.”

Her reflection moves in front of me, and she plants herself instantly.

And I wait.

CHAPTER TWENTY - TWO

LEXI

Since I’ve met Abel, there have been numerous times I’ve seen him angry. Every single time pales in insignificance compared to this. It’s the first time I’ve ever wanted to sit and obey and the first time I’m relieved he's on my side.