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Growling, I bit my lip.

She widened her eyes as if she could see everything I was thinking.

What else could I be thinking about right now?

There would be no turning back after this. I didn’t give one fuck what York or anyone else thought of it. It was true that she was young. It was true that we’d grown up as brother and sister. But it was also true that I had tasted a little and wanted a whole lot more. And now I would never get enough. There was no turning back.

Someone knocked at the door.

I called out, “Yes?”

“Baptiste wants to see you outside.”

“Okay. I’m coming.” I kissed her, gathered myself together, and rose. “I’ll be right back.”


Shot to the Heart


I sat in the tree, watching them through the window.

This had been the trickier moment of them all. I wasn’t sure of the video shoot location until this morning. I had no real time to prepare how I would shoot Zola, just that I would.

Luckily, I now had access to make some decisions. I talked to her staff and had her dressing room moved near a tree I could climb in. With so many rooms, there was no problem following my request. I seemed important enough after all.

It gave me a good view of everything.

I watched him lick her.

In the tree, I was hidden enough for anybody walking by to not see me. Perhaps, if they looked up, there would be a problem and I would have to kill them. But so many people rushed around due to the distraction Hunter had made at the video shoot.

As soon as he stomped on stage, I left the area and went to the tree, knowing they would return to the dressing room soon. But then he tore off her costume and put that mouth on her sex.

And I didn’t have it in me to cover her in red.

They needed to have their moment. For now.

I stayed in the tree, gripping my sniper rifle. Lucky for Zola, I’d modified this one to only shoot paint.

She wouldn’t die.

Not that anybody cared. The director had gone ballistic, ranting on some live Twitter feed. Two dancers got into a fight. Trigger never woke up. He was definitely alive but would be getting a good rest this evening.

When Hunter grabbed her, I followed them back. I could see the look of desire on his eyes when he watched her on the stage. I knew before he did, that he was going to rush up there and take her away. Love did that to people.

I miss that passion.

Once they entered the room, I placed the mask on my face, raised the gun, and pointed it at the window. I ducked behind branches and leaves just in case one of them happened to look. They never did—too caught up in passion. Afterwards, they sat there and talked for a few minutes as he held her.

And then the signal came.

Hunter rose and left the room. I grinned under the mask. Zola rested on the couch by herself. Still naked, her nipples were hard, a look of pure satisfaction spread across her face. It made me so mad and turned on at the same time.

Damn, I miss that feeling of being loved.

I leaned to the side and checked the front, not seeing anyone in my area.

All clear.

I pointed the rifle and shot it. The paint bullet broke the window. The glass shattered. She jumped up and screamed. I shot again, this time aiming at Zola. The paint bullet hit her. Red paint splattered all over those bare breasts.

She screamed and fell to the floor, trying to hide from more bullets.

I shot at her again.

Movement came from farther away.

I climbed down as fast as I could, fire burning my lungs. I pushed through it, landed on the ground, and raced away as Zola’s screams continued to rip in the air.

Close. So close.


No Turning Back


I checked on Zola as fast as I could. There was a moment of fear in my heart.

Please. Not Zola.

Luckily, the psycho had just painted her with fake blood. For some reason, the scent reminded me of a memory, but I couldn’t hold on to it for too long.

What is it about that smell?

I had no time to think as I helped her up and out of the dressing room. My guys ran up and surrounded her, keeping Zola at the center of a tight body circle.

The fact that the stalker had got a good shot on her chest terrified me. Had it been a real gun, she would’ve been dead, and there would’ve been no bringing her back.

When I’d first come to New York, I thought the stalker would be on a low level. But this guy displayed top skills. He knew how to use a weapon. He’d left no trace or fingerprints. He was on my level, and that scared me even more.