Ambushed by M.E. McAndrews
Chapter 23
Olivia
stares at me on my kitchen table—all due by the end of the month.
I collapse in the chair. My breakfast, instant oatmeal, sits cold and pasty. I don’t have much of an appetite these days.
I groan, dropping my head into my hands. The stress is unbearable.
Of course I didn’t get any sleep last night. I can’t shake the uneasy feeling that has found a permanent home inside me. The sound of the rock smashing my window echoes in my mind, and I can't help but wonder who would do such a thing. I try to calm myself, telling myself that it was most likely just a random act of vandalism. But deep down, I know that's probably not the case.
I stand in front of my kitchen window, staring at the jagged shards of glass scattered across my countertop and floor. The once peaceful morning has been shattered, just like my window.
When the wind blows, every creak and groan of the house sends a jolt of fear through me. I tried to clean the rest of the glass up from the floor, but it upset me too much, so I’ve just left it there.
The more I mull it over, the more I feel like it had to have been him. My blood begins to boil with anger and determination, fueled by the thought that Austin is behind this. I won't let him get away with it. I will not let him intimidate me. I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself. I need to be rational, but I am not going to let this go. I'm going to figure out what’s going on, and I won't stop until I have the answers I need.
I make my way around the kitchen, picking up the broken glass and cleaning up the mess. As I work, I feel my resolve growing stronger. I won't let Austin win. I won't let him destroy my peace.
The familiar sound of his car engine catches my attention, and my head snaps upward. He’s leaving for work this morning. My stomach tightens.
Yesterday, he made me feel things, do things… I exhale slowly.
Bastard. I can’t let him scare him.
I can’t give up now, not when I’m this close. He gave into his desires yesterday and it was glorious, albeit a small win for me. At least now, I’m getting closer to him, learning what makes him tick. Things that can make him fall apart at those perfectly sewn together seams.
If I want to keep the upper hand, sitting here wishing my bills away isn’t what’s going to get it done.
I wait until his car is out of sight and head out my back door. I hurry through my long yard to where my property line meets the road, praying none of the neighbors see me. I’m certain he’s got security cameras somewhere, but what’s the problem with me paying him a visit, perhaps a surprise. I toy with the different excuses I’d give him. He doesn’t see me as a threat, and that’s exactly what I want. I cross the road quickly and make my way to the side of his house, peering around it. I take a few steps forward, sticking close to the wall as I survey the area for any signs of life. The coast is clear and luckily there’s an open window on the first floor, which I easily climb through.
It’s dark inside, with the heavy blinds drawn, but my eyes adjust quickly, and soon enough, I make out all the furniture and decorations that adorn his living room with precision and organization—just like him. The air smells of cologne and leather. Smells of him. His home is immaculate, showcasing expensive furniture and modern decor—clearly, he had money to spare when furnishing this place. I walk around taking in all the details, searching for something, something that might be incriminating. There’s no way the man is a saint. Anybody who’s ever met him certainly knows that. And he did become visibly upset when mentioning his ex-wife. I can’t believe he opened up to me like that. What other secrets are you hiding, Mr. Blackwater?
What I need to find is a bedroom, or an office.
I take the stairs, my feet lightly touching each step so as not to make a sound.
The first room at the top of the stairs is a guest bedroom, neat and airy. The room is nondescript, with little personality. Clearly, he doesn’t use this room often. The second appears to be his office, although, after searching through the cabinets, I find nothing but papers and office supplies. There’s no computer, and the sleek modern desk has no drawers to hide anything. I rummage through the bookshelves carefully. All just business how-to books.
I’m not surprised.
The third room is the one I want—his master bedroom. If there’s anything to be found, this will be the most likely place. I creep in slowly, closing the door behind me.
The bed is made and the smell of his cologne is stronger here than downstairs. Probably this is where he sprayed it on before leaving for work. His wooden dresser sits beside the wall with an array of watches on top—all expensive and luxurious brands that he obviously collects—a telltale sign of his disgusting wealth. The drawers are slightly open, and I can tell he's recently been here—or someone has.
I make my way over to the dresser and carefully begin sifting through their contents. What I find surprises me—official reports from various businesses he has dealings with. Some of it is strictly legal paperwork, others—documents detailing business information, some about his, some about others. My eyes scan over them. It’s like he’s keeping track of everyone in his life. It’s nothing useful, not for me anyway.
But that’s not all. I find a file folder hidden in the back of one of the drawers. On the front of the folder is written SETH WILLIAMS.
I take a deep breath and open the folder, a pit rising in my stomach as I start to read. There are papers containing surveillance photos of him, as well as detailed notes about his movements and conversations with other people over the past year. There are some official documents regarding his death, and a police report dated August 15, detailing the investigation into what happened the day he died.
I had the suspicion before, but this—this only validates it further. My jaw sets. I’d come here looking for answers, but I found something much more sinister than I ever expected—a link that my beloved husband’s life was cut short by a cold-hearted killer. Proof that it was not suicide.
I knew it. Austin is connected to this. Whether he actually killed him, I don’t know. Maybe he hired someone? But either way, he has to be involved.
I replace the folder to the back of the drawer, hoping it’s in the right place and orientation. As I’m sliding the drawer closed, a noise from outside the room startles me. I freeze in fear, holding my breath as the sound of footsteps approaches the bedroom door.
Shit!
My heart races as I jump onto the bed and lie down. The door creaks open and Austin steps inside.
“Hey sexy,” I purr, arching my back.
His brows pull together in confusion and surprise. “What the hell are you doing here?”
I shrug. “Waiting…”
“For?”
“You to come home.”
He takes a step closer and my heart beats faster. “What did you think you were going to do when I got here?” he asks.
I bite my lip and give him a suggestive smile. “I have a few ideas. Can I show?” My eyes dart to the dresser. Shit. The drawer is open. My fingers find the edge of my dress and I lift it, forcing his eyes to my ass.
He stares at me, his expression impossible to read. My heart thuds in my chest as my nerves rise, making my breaths tight. If he knows I snooped around his house, I’m dead.
I run my fingers over my thin cotton underwear. “I need you to fuck me again,” I plead, barely able to form words. “I need it so bad. I couldn’t stay away.”
“You shouldn’t be in here, Olivia.”
More nerves rise. Fuck. I need him to buy this. Right now. I rise onto my knees, lifting my dress up higher, wiggling my ass. “I know. I’m sorry. I just couldn’t help it. You make me want to do bad things. Terrible things.”
He smirks, tilting his head, his eyes narrow as he takes a step toward me.
I’m not sure if he believes me, but I’m working like hell to make sure he does. He’s a dangerous man, and I’m playing with more than fire. I’m playing with pure evil.
“Is that so?” he murmurs.
I nod.
He takes another step. Just one more, I hope.
“What about what I need?” he asks.
Take another step. Please. The dresser will be out of his view then.
“What you need is to fuck me hard,” I whisper, my eyes never leaving his heated gaze.
He takes another step. Thank God!
“Say it,” I breathe.
His eyes are dark now, wild. “Fuck you hard,” he says. “Yeah, I think I need that.”
He comes closer, his hand finding the back of my neck as his lips press against mine. His mouth is warm, and he tastes good. I hate how good he tastes. I pull back, a smirk on my face.
“I said I needed you to fuck me,” I whisper, his fingers playing with the hem of my dress. I’ve got him right where I want him.
Then all at once, he yanks me, face down on the bed over his lap. My ass is in the air. He tugs my dress up and yanks my underwear to my knees.
His heated palm rests on my backside. “You think you can just come into my house and take what you want?”
I don’t move. I don’t breathe. I can’t tell what game he’s playing now. Is he toying with me because he knows what I did? I’m in a state of complete submission to him. He can do whatever he wants. God, this is humiliating, but fuck… I hate how hot it’s making me. My nerves continue to race on edge. My thoughts are a jumble.
“I asked you a question, Livvy.”
“I—” the words are stuck in my throat. My body is already on fire.
“I asked you a fucking question,” he snaps.
“Yes!” I breathe.
“Yes what?”
I glance over my shoulder, but he catches me looking at him. He presses his hand down harder.
“I didn’t think you’d mind.” My voice is thin.
“You didn’t think I’d mind? Are you out of your fucking mind?” He spanks me then and I cry out. If he knows I snooped, what’s he going to do to me? I press my cheek against the mattress and bite my lip.
His hand comes down hard on my right ass cheek. I cry out at the stinging pain that radiates through my skin. And the pain becomes pleasure.