“Too much too soon,” Rio said, and Jamie subsided.
The shift was instant. No argument, no protest—just that tight flare of frustration in Jamie’s eyes before he swallowed it. That kind of obedience wasn’t fear or submission. It was history. Trust, maybe. Something deep. And I hated how easily Rio could calm him with a look and a few words.
For a second, I wondered if they’d ever been a thing. There was something about how Rio touched him—firm but not forceful, as if he knew how todefuse him without lighting the fuse further. And the way Jamie reacted… Respect. Familiarity. Longing?
Or maybe I was projecting. Because if I had that kind of influence over Jamie, I wouldn’t waste it on calming him down.
“First name is Marcus Kessler,” Rio said.
“Short, blond, always angry, and so much aftershave,” Robbie scratched his arms at the sense memory. “He liked to… he watched, and he would cut me.”
Enzo held him close, and Robbie closed his eyes.
“Kessler is a billionaire,” I said. “Invisible when it matters. Difficult to pin that fucker down.” He was on the list, but way down past the ones we could get to. It looked as if we would be pushing him up if he were in any way responsible for what had happened to Robbie.
“Second is Edward Lassiter.”
“Gruff voice, tall, dark hair, skinny, old,” Robbie said, his voice steadier, “He used to push things inside me, tear me up, he’d laugh and he would…” He stopped, his voice choked.
“I’ve crossed paths with Lassiter before,” I said into the sudden silence, keeping it vague. “District of Nevada, Federal prosecutor, takes on high-profile trafficking cases. Vegas-based. We’ve worked inparallel before, but not recently.” I kept my expression neutral, but Jamie was already watching me as if he knew I was only giving half the story. There’d been whispers after the one case I’d worked with him. Nights I couldn’t sleep because I kept playing over and over what we’d done. A file that had disappeared too fast. I didn’t want to believe Lassiter could be worse than I’d thought. But fuck.
I knew Lassiter—knew him well enough that his name on this list made me want to vomit. He wasn’t just a name in a file; he was someone my team had flagged months ago on much lesser issues than trafficking, abuse, and what else he had his hands into. But I couldn’t say that here, not yet.
Jamie’s eyes narrowed, cool and dissecting. He looked at me as if he could peel me open and catalog the truth in my lies. It made me shift where I stood, my throat dry. He didn’t trust me—and damn it, he was right not to.
“I’ll dig into both names.”
“I find them, I kill them, Robbie is safe from ever being found,” Jamie blasted, his expression murderous, his fingers flexing as if he were already holding a lighter. He wanted fire and vengeance, and only Enzo’s steadiness restrained him. I was almost grateful for it.
“Robbie is safe here with us,” Enzo said.
“He won’t be safe until every last one of them is dead!” Jamie snarled.
Rio stepped between him and Enzo, who dropped his hold on Robbie and clenched his fists.
“Settle down, Jamie,” Rio said, placing a steadying hand on his arm.
“Yeah, settle down,Pretty,” I added because he was beautiful when he was all fired up.
“Fuck you,” Jamie snapped, his voice a razor-edged growl.
“Fuck you too,” I shot back, all bite and zero apology. I wanted his anger, and I saw Rio’s hand still on him, fingers curled lightly around Jamie’s arm, and something sharp and possessive flared in my chest. I didn’t like it. Didn’t like Rio touching him. God knows why, but I wanted it to be me with my hands on Jamie.
What the actual hell? I blinked, heart kicking into overdrive. Lassiter’s name short-circuited my brain, sent warning bells clanging loud enough to drown out reason. That had to be why some deep, reckless part of me suddenly wanted to stake a claim—because nothing else explained why my instincts veered from legal strategy to territorial craving.
“They need to die,” he repeated. Murderous.
I fought the urge to step into his space and confront him, chest to chest, to see how far I could push before he bit. To inhale his scent—smoke, oil, and something sweet beneath it all. Maybe grab him by the collar and kiss the anger out of him.
“No. More. Killing.” I snapped, and then, held up a hand when Jamie began to talk. “Not yet.”
FIVE
Jamie
I foldedmy arms tight across my chest. Not because I needed to look tough—though fuck if that wasn’t part of it—but because it was the only thing holding me together. Killian’s eyes were on me again, calm and cold, as if he were reading me and making notes. I hated it. Hated him.
Liar.
