I scowl at him. “Shut up, you bastun.”
He just shrugs. “It’s a logical question.”
I glance at Kaz for backup, but he’s laser-focused on his laptop, tuning us out completely.
“Fine,” I mutter. “You’re right.”
If I think about it, I do know.
There’s a fire in me when I think of her. A need to claim her—mind, body, and soul.
Her laugh? It sets my veins alight.
Her strength? Her no-bullshit attitude? It turns me the fuck on.
And that ruthless, beautiful darkness when she kills?
That makes my cock rock hard.
Yeah, I’m obsessed.
But is it romantic to admit that?
I rub my hands over my face and groan.
Throw me in syndicate buisness and I’m a demon.
Ask me to talk about feelings, and I’m a goddamn teenage boy.
I must have zoned out, because by the time I look up, Kaz and Dario are both asleep.
I rest my head back, eyes drifting shut.
Maybe when I wake up, I’ll know what the hell to say to her.
? ? ?
We land in Vegas six hours later, the sun casting that golden late-evening glow across the strip.
“I got us the same spot as last time,” I tell the guys as we grab our bags and load into the rental.
“Think we could kidnap her and take her to one of those chapels?” Dario muses.
I blanch. “There’s no way she’s getting married by some Elvis impersonator in a chapel the size of a janitor’s closet.”
Most people would probably say there’s no way we’re kidnapping her.
But I’m not most people.
So… it’s not off the table.
“Yeah, she deserves better,” Dario sighs wistfully.
I’m driving us to the Bellagio when I glance over at Kaz. He’s typing away like a man on a mission.
“You looking into that hit we got?” I ask.
He nods. “Yeah. Unfortunately, only three sightings. Nothing recent.”
