Thirty years to nurture an underground power that could rival almost any regime.
Including the Chertov Bratva.
If even one of the other five Cosa Nostra families aligned with the Irish in New York, we would have a battle on our hands.
As I scrolled through the photographs, I was once again stuck by Vivian’s beauty. Even though I should be furious with her for keeping information from me, my dick was aching as it had done a hundred times around her. Besides, it wasn’t as if I’d been completely truthful with her.
A fucking Irish princess. I couldn’t believe it. Imagine the odds in Vegas.
Friend or foe?
Damn it. I needed to know. Now. Now!
What time was it? I had no idea how long I’d been sitting here. As soon as I lifted my arm, the ache in my shoulder caused a wave of nausea. Wincing, I had to blink several times before the face of my watch came into focus. A little after three in the morning.
Vivian Evangeline Hamilton. Born and raised in New York. Schooled at Duke University, graduating at the top of her class. Internship at Duke University Hospital before being lured back to New York.
Easing back, I grabbed my drink as I thought about what Vivian had said about the Ghost. Find the fucker’s weakness. I laughed, the sound bitter and hollow as I brought the glass to my lips.
My hand was shaking.
Fuck, my entire arm was vibrating both from anger and anguish. Weakness. Maybe I should concentrate on my own goddamn weakness.
My eyes shifted back to the screen, but I was forced to blink a few times with difficulty focusing. Maybe the fact I’d slept only a few hours in the last few days was the reason I had a bone-deep ache, a heaviness in my limbs that felt as if they were made from stone.
Beads of sweat were rolling down both sides of my face even though I was freezing to death. Fuck. I closed my eyes, unable to shove aside images of Vivian’s luscious naked body from my mind. She was perfect in every way.
A temptress.
A siren.
Dangerous. The woman was even more dangerous than the Ghost. Another laugh erupted from my throat and I threw my head back, staring at the wooden beam ceiling. Why was it that every security room had wooden beams? Didn’t they?
I needed to hunt the bastard down and I was playing house with a woman. What the hell was wrong with me?
A figure caught my eye and instantly, I reached for my weapon while shoving the chair back. The loud clattering echoed in my ears like a bomb going off. I swung around, ready to fire.
Where did…
A woman. I’d seen a woman.
“Vivian.” The whispered word surprised me. Wait. I was wrong. She couldn’t be there. I rubbed my arm across my forehead and lowered the weapon. Why was I so jumpy all of a sudden?
Vivian had gone to bed. She’d left me alone. After forcing Tylenol down my throat. A little Florence Nightingale, only she wasn’t.
Laughing, I rubbed my eyes. Maybe I’d willed her to come to me.
I took another swig of my drink. Then another. Anger continued to build while I paced the floor, every few seconds trying to focus on the laptop screen. When a screensaver popped on, I almost lost it, smashing my finger on the spacebar. I needed to both see and accept that she’d betrayed me.
The woman I’d had my dick stuck so far inside I’d almost lost myself had fucking lied to me.
To me! She’d lied. She’d… My true nemesis.
Another laugh while an entirely different kind of ache formed, a knot so large my stomach was distended. At least that’s what it seemed like when I knew in actuality it was anger. No, a wave of rage. I was enraged that I’d been duped.
Damn it. I needed sleep. I was even dizzy, which wasn’t like me. I took another swallow before I noticed the glass was empty.
With a heavy exhale, I returned to the desk, trying to locate the bottle in the darkness. There it was. I poured more into my glass, half laughing as it splashed on the desk’s surface. What the hell? It wasn’t my desk and this wasn’t my house.
