“Probably,” I say, winking. Gripping his little finger, I pull it back with barely a blink. The snap is music to my ears. “But think of howfunit’ll be for me.”
It’s like foreplay watching my girl be so unhinged and give into her bloodlust. A chaotic mess, full of fury and rage, that feels like home to the demons inside my soul. I’m giddy thinking about it.
He wails, holding his hand. It immediately turns purple—my new favorite color. Tsking, I snatch his collar, throwing him toward the door. “You really should’ve worked on your pain tolerance, Murry. She’s going to eat you alive.”
Striding into her office,I’m surprised to see her and Lex bent over her desk. Papers are lined out, stacks of contracts, and a few books. One is fake—she learned to cook them years ago to cover their trail—and the real one, open wide.
Taking in her long, dark hair and perfectly pink lips, I have to stop the groan that sits on my tongue at seeing her in my shirt and a pair of tight black leggings. Her long legs shift and move as she speaks, ignoring my presence.
Not a huge fan of the capo being so fucking close. They’re practically sharing the same air.
Crossing my arms, I slink behind them. Her eyes are focused on the papers, the capo pointing out a shipping route, but I see the moment her body reacts to me. Her shoulders bunch, her spine curves, and that perfectly taunt ass pushes out, expecting my touch.
Tilting, I see how her cheeks flush, and the sparkle in her eyes—something only I ever fucking get to see—takes over the dark green, making them look like unpolished gems.
I’m five seconds away from slicing the capo’s neck and taking her against the wall. How dare he see something so beautiful and live to tell the tale?
“Killian,” she says, tone brisk. Blinking, I notice both are looking at me, and I’m twirling my knife between my fingers. Delicious thoughts of blood dripping down from the capo’s neck make me smirk, and Maeve’s eyes narrow.
“Where have you been?”
“Shopping,” I say easily. Coming close, I brush my nose against her cheek, uncaring if the capo notices. “I left your present in the basement.”
His face takes on a cute shade of gray. He must remember that’s where we keep all our torture victims. His cousin was a guest there not too long ago.
Maeve stares back at me, black bleeding into those gorgeous elfin eyes. Eyes I could never paint—because they paled to the real thing.
Those same eyes that look at me now—no longer in pain, but a brightness that hasn’t been there since she killed Michael. Because she’s finally trusting me. Maeve can try to lie to me—hide—but I know her too well. Her eyes always give away her tells, and it’s only now that I’ve earned some of her trust back.
The capo holds his gut. “Who do you have in the basement?”
“A little fuckingbirdie.”
Maeve’s head tilts, and I see her calculating my words, her lips pouting slightly. Her cunning is one of her better qualities. She could take down the entire city with that strategic mind, and I’d sit back to watch it happen.
“What are you working on?”
“The future,” Alessio answers, waving a hand over the cluttered desktop.
Glaring at the capo, I say, “I wasn’t asking you.”
“Without the Board, we’re losing money,” she reminds me quietly. “Lex has connections we can exploit.”
“And he’s doing this out of the goodness of his heart?”
The capo stares at me, dark brows heavy over his bright eyes. “If O’Brien goes down, then so does De Luca. It’s only right to work together to keep both families going.”
It’s a good idea—but it pisses me off that she’s relying on Alessio for help.
“I assume you have a buyer,” I say, tapping the page. “For gun and pills.”
“I do.” He shrugs. “And hopefully it’ll lead to more buyers down the road. But we still have things left to discuss.”
Glancing at Maeve, I notice her chewing her lip, looking at the papers, unseeing. She’s not focused on this task—she’s thinking of the man in the basement who could blow all of this wide open. Who could give us the leverage to end it.
My girl lives for torture. Whereas her prince loses his stomach over tight spaces, or her sister, who cannot stand to see someone ripped apart—or rather gets turned on by it—Maeve lives for it. She becomes alive—a demon feasting on the screams of her enemy.
We grew up the same, and both know how to make someone talk. How to break a body, let it fester, and then go back for more. We know how to use their agony as substance for life—we worship it.
