The silence in the room proves what I’ve always known. Wearing a badge doesn’t mean your life is more valuable than the person next to you. Jasmine’s life was threatened in front of six of her peers, yet, not a word is spoken in her defense. Bill looks like he wants to jump in, but he’s too stunned by Jasmine’s lack of denial to fathom a reply.
“Who said Vegas is where chivalry goes to die?”
While smirking like a smug prick, I light the cigarette hanging out of my mouth, drag a long drawl of nicotine-laced smoke into my lungs, then return my focus to the officer who’s more undercover than anyone in this room. “Grant Carmichael five minutes of my time.” The excitement brightening Jasmine’s face dulls when I add, “But the redhead will lead our exchange. If she doesn’t, my talk with Carmichael will end with him losing his life.”
Over our conversation, and my inability to act passé about my interest in Carmichael’s new lap dog, I stab out my half-smoked cigarette on the armrest, slouch low in my chair, rest my bare feet on the tabletop, then shut my eyes, blocking out the world I’m more than ready to rule once my vengeance has been achieved.
Only a stupid man believes he’ll live forever, and only a jaded one wants to. I’m neither stupid nor boring, and I can’t wait for the unnamed redhead to become aware of that.
* * *
Twenty minutes pass before the once large room is scaled down in size by five people entering the now-crammed space. The bristling of the hairs on my neck announce who has arrived, let alone the scent of a woman in need. She smells too pure to taint her with the violent world I’ve been a part of since the day I took my first breath—too pure for me—but tell me one man who hates being challenged?
Something about her crawled under my skin within three seconds of meeting her, and only a fool would act ignorant to the curiosity keeping them alive.
When Carmichael commences our exchange by pretending we don’t know each other, I realize how much sweeter my victory is going to be. Not even a weasel of a man like Carmichael wants the woman he’s vying to swoon into his bed to know he railroaded a teenage boy on the witness stand. “Mr. Popov, my name is Carmichael Fletcher. I’m a defense attorney at—”
“I know who you are.” The scent I suck in while endeavoring to cool my dangerous body temperature doubles when my accented voice roars across the room. It's extra gritty from the annoyance bubbling in my veins, and more than capable of increasing the redhead’s unadulterated scent.
This game is almost too easy.
After dropping my feet to the floor, I raise my head. I try to keep my focus on Carmichael, the deserver of my wrath, but my eyes stray to the redhead for the quickest second. It’s like I’m a missile and she’s my target. I can’t help but lock and hold with the hope of destruction.
A gleam in her eyes is an invitation to chaos. It’s both tempting and intriguing as fuck. She could be another one of Carmichael’s many tricks, but she’s not giving me that vibe. The hue on her cheeks when she returns my stare is as real as the scars she’s endeavoring to hide with her waist-length hair.
Although she intrigues me to no end, I must remain cautious. Carmichael has played me for a fool once before.
I refuse to let it happen again.
After locking my eyes with Carmichael, I move the first pawn on my overstocked chessboard. “I’m not interested in anything you’re selling. Wasn’t interested ten years ago; sure as hell ain’t interested now.”
I angle my head to shadow the arrogance in my eyes with my thick lashes before returning the redhead’s cautious stare. I watch her for several long seconds, relishing the beep of her pulse I feel as much as I see. Its frantic thump reveals she’s not scared, but she is utterly oblivious to the trap Carmichael had laid out for her.
He wants to bed her—badly. However, his hunger for success is still trumping his personal endeavors. She’s not his queen. She is his pawn—a wager I plan to stealaftershowing her how much of a parasite Carmichael is.
“Unless you’re offering an incentive to sweeten the honey pot, the five minutes Officer Jasmine negotiated with Carmichael for the hope of slipping between his sheets is up.”
There it is. The gasp of recognition when it dawns on her as to why she’s here. She isn’t Carmichael’s equal nor his plaything. She is here for one reason and one reason only. To secure me as a client.
The underworld is the equivalent of a pot of gold under a rainbow for defense attorneys. Our endeavor to get rich no matter what the law states makes them rich. Carmichael wants this so badly, I can smell the desperation leaching from his pores.
Curious to see how far I can take this, I nudge my head to the door Carmichael and his minions walked through only minutes ago before arrogantly grunting, “The door is that way.”
I predict for the redhead to race for the door first; she does have the most at stake here, so you can imagine my shock when she remains standing at the end of the boardroom-sized table, her stance shockingly confident.
Perhaps she’s frozen by feared excitement… or perhaps she isn’t as saintly as her eyes portray. I can only hope.
I’m glad she lived up to the spark I see in her eyes, but before I can work out why I’m pleased about anything a stranger does, like all men backed into a corner, Carmichael comes out swinging. “Now is not the time for stubbornness, Nikolai. You were positively identified in a line up. Your fingerprints were found on the shattered bottle lodged in the neck of the claimant, and the DA has video evidence of the alleged assault.”
Every one of his jabs miss their mark. “So?” I slump into my chair, my lips tightening at his lack of respect. I’ve killed men for less. “Are you advising me to be worried?”
“Yes.” Carmichael looks set to throw his hands into the air in defeat, but he gives it another shot to reign supreme. “Unless you’re a foolish man, you should pay careful attention to every word I speak. I’m your only guarantee of leaving this room without shackles cuffed to your wrists. The courts close in less than an hour. If you don’t do everything I suggest, you’ll be holed up in here the entire long weekend instead of sniffing crack from a hooker’s tits while fucking another in the ass.”
I smile, loving how ruffled he looks during an outburst. I’m also aware his tirade wasn’t for me. It was for the woman at his side, the one more jealous about his statement than amused by it. If he’s hoping to scare her from acting on the tension bristling between us, he’s an hour too late. Not even a wall of bullet proof glass weakened the zap that roared through my body when our eyes collided for those brief three seconds during my line-up, so avyperduschlike Carmichael has no chance in hell of slackening its power.
“What do you think,Ahren? Should I follow his every word to a T?” When Carmichael attempts to answer on behalf of the redhead, I cut him off by slicing my hand through the air. He had his chance to speak. Now it’s her turn. “I want to hear what she has to say, considering my decision will impact her as much as it will me.”
I’m also curious as to why she blinked in rapid concession when I called herAhren. For all she knows, I could have called her a whore, so why is she blushing?
