Dirty Damage: Chapter 55

It was a mistake taking the boat out.

Everywhere I look, there’s a freshly minted memory of Sutton.

The bow where we’d fucked for the first time. The railing I’d bent her over. The suites where we’d spent long nights sitting up and talking.

The whole yacht even smells of her.

I actually find a fine, blonde hair curled around the railing on the stern. Instead of doing the rational thing and throwing it into the ocean, I unwind it from the railing and keep it curled around my finger.

I’d call it a new low.

But when you watch the ocean swallow the lives of the two people you care about most in this world, nothing ever that ever feels quite so low again.

Their voices carry over to me in the wind. Elise and Oriana, whispering in my ear like they always do.

But now, there’s a third voice in the mix.

Sutton’s.

It was a mistake to have brought her out on this yacht. I let her into a place she never should’ve intruded. I’ve gone and robbed myself of the one space I go to get some peace of mind.

I check my phone again, but I haven’t heard anything from anyone. Not Sutton. Not Artem. Not even Oksana.

I expected to have my phone inundated with messages from my mother, each offering up a different woman for me.

It all stays silent. Just the wind and the voices carried on it that I can’t quite decipher.

I spend another hour out on the water, just to see if I can manage to shake off Sutton’s presence. When it’s clear that this is simply a more concentrated form of torture, I pilot the yacht around and make for land.

I’m just mooring when I see a tall figure step onto the dock.

Artem.

He’s standing patiently, waiting for me as I jump down off the boat.

“I warn you,” I tell him, “giving me bad news right now might mean a dip in the harbor.”

He gives me a tame, sorrowful grin. “I’ll risk it. There’s something you should know.”

Gritting my teeth, I twist around and duck back into the vessel to make sure I’ve shut everything down. Artem follows.

“Brother, I think this is serious.”

“It usually is,” I say. “But if it has anything to do with Sutton, I’m not interested.”

“Even if she’s in danger?”

My muscles tense immediately. Nostrils flaring, I turn my back on Artem so that he can’t read my face. “If she’s in danger, it’s because she asked for it. That’s what you get when you throw your lot in with scum like Drew Anton.”

“You can’t honestly be that cold.”

I twist around, causing Artem to run right into me. “You were this close to getting an apology out of me,” I grit. “Don’t ruin it now.”

“I don’t want an apology,” Artem insists. “What I want is for you to listen to me. Sutton texted me a little while ago. She sounded panicked.”

I shouldn’t ask. I don’t want to, but I hear myself do it anyway. “What did she say?”

“She told me to check on Mara.” He pushes his phone into my hand.

SUTTON: Artem, I know I shouldn’t be contacting you but I have no other choice.

SUTTON: I wouldn’t ask unless it was really important. Can you please check on Mara for me? Mara Bettis. I have reason to believe she could be in danger.

ARTEM: What’s going on, Sutton? Where are you?

SUTTON: It doesn’t matter about me. I just need to make sure Mara is okay. I had to leave her place quickly and I didn’t have time to explain.

ARTEM: An explanation sounds pretty good right about now.

My gaze pivots to Artem. “She hasn’t replied.”

“No, she hasn’t.”

“Where is she now? Didn’t you have men tailing her?”

“I did. The last sighting was when she made her way over to Mara’s place, hours ago now. It seems that Drew was tailing her the entire time.”

Artem pulls up some images on his phone and shows them to me. It features Sutton, walking down a street, her face turned to the side, displaying a fresh bruise that’s turned her pale skin a vibrant shade of purple.

“What the fuck?” I say, rage curling its way through my fingers until they tighten into fists.

“Apparently, she was accosted by Anton in a smoothie bar.”

“He did that to her?”

“Well, she didn’t have that bruise when she walked in.”

“FUCK!” I explode.

I twist around and punch my fist into the closest surface. My hand erupts in pain, but I welcome the sting.

It’s better than this helpless feeling churning in my gut.

“Hey, brother, save that for the people who really deserve it,” Artem counsels.

“Where is she?” I demand.

Artem winces. “Ilya sent a report twenty minutes ago. She disappeared into Mara’s building ages ago. But it seemed she took a different exit out of there. Possibly because Anton has been parked outside the building for hours.”

“Meaning you’ve lost her?”

“We’ll find her,” Artem assures me.

Why do those three little words fill me with comfort? I shouldn’t care one way or the other. Hadn’t I washed my hands of Sutton Palmer?

She’s Anton’s problem now.

And yet the sight of that bruise on her face has me spiraling. How dare that fucker lay a finger on her? How dare he touch her?

And then—in the furthest, darkest corner of my mind—a thought inches its way into the forefront.

How dare he touch what’s mine?

I jump off the yacht and onto the dock. “Where’s Anton?”

Artem follows. “He was at Mara’s building up until a half-hour ago. Now, we’re not sure. The men were busy scrambling to locate Sutton. Anton’s not on their assignment.”

“Goddammit,” I say, rummaging around in my pockets for the keys to my car.

“Give those to me,” Artem says the moment I find them. “Let me drive. In your state, you’re going to run someone over.”

“If it happens to be Drew, that would be fucking perfect,” I growl.

But I hand over the keys anyway. I’m in no fit state to drive and I’m not so far gone that I don’t recognize that.

“Where to?” Artem asks as he gets behind the wheel.

“Mara’s place. I want to speak to her.”

“Okay, but take a deep breath. Chill, brother. If you don’t get those veins in your forehead under control, you’re likely to scare the poor girl to death.”

White-knuckling the seat, I try to breathe through the anger.

The only other time I’ve felt this out of control was on a boat, a long time ago. I’d lost two people I loved dearly that night.

Is this feeling telling me that history is about to repeat itself?

I grit my teeth, eyes narrowing with determination.

Not if I can help it.