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“It depends on how much this woman means to you. Is she worth the risk?”
I tap my finger on my tumbler. I know my answer. I can feel it in my soul and my palm is twitching to connect to that ass of hers.
He closes his eyes and sighs as he stands. He knows. “Don’t make me regret this, Frankie.”
I can’t have her running around that war zone, not with how reckless she is.
Lexie saunters in the room with a fresh glass of scotch, brushing her nose along my cheek as she places it in front of me. “Can I do anything else for you today, sir?” Her voice is sultry as she licks her bright pink lips.
I’m saving myself for one woman only. Even if she deserves to feel my wrath after her stunt.
“Not today,” I dismiss her.
She pouts as she turns briskly on her high heels.
It won’t be any day. I rub my palms on my thighs, trying to rid myself of the thoughts of Zara. I can still taste her sweetness on my tongue and feel her hot breath against my skin.
22
ZARA
As soon as I’m through security, I pull down my aviators and keep my bag tight under my arm. I spent the entire flight knocking back whiskey, trying to numb the pain.
I was part of another murder, and I feel zero remorse over it.
I’m terrified of myself, but even more so, my feelings for Frankie. At every turn from leaving his home to arriving here, I expect him to turn up and drag me back kicking and screaming.
Yet, every time he didn’t, I’m almost disappointed.
Stepping off the escalator, I unexpectedly bump into a guy, his chest solid and unyielding. I instinctively lift my arms and take a step away.
“I’m so sorry,” I rush out.
With a swift motion, the guy's tattooed hand glides through his hair.
“It’s okay, miss.” His eyes travel down my body. His thick Russian accent has me taking a further step back.
I give him a sweet smile before swiftly ducking around him.
Just as I arrive at the taxi stand, a cab pulls up with a screech of brakes. I take another look behind me and see the guy I bumped into leaning against the railings, his eyes fixed on me. With a shiver down my spine, I quickly throw my bag into the back of the cab.
“Hotel?”
I nod again, another Russian accent. The guy’s piercing blue eyes appear in the rear-view mirror. I tell him the address for the hotel I booked for two nights on the way here. It should be long enough for me to work out my plan.
I feel a surge of unease as the driver's phone punctuating the air before he responds in a flurry of Russian speech as he weaves in and out of traffic. The locks click on the door, making my heart rate spike. Vegas has recently been taken over by the Bratva. Is that what’s going on here?
I grab some cash out of my bag. He smiles at me and holds out his palm.
He has the same skull tattoo spanning the front of his hand as the guy from the airport.
“Thank you. Enjoy your stay.” One tooth in his wide grin reflects gold in the dim light.
“Thanks.”
As he unlocks the cab, I quickly grab my bag and get out, exhaling with relief.
Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.
