Page 67 of The Devil

“And I’m sure they’ll be very fucking understanding. You’re not doing this alone, Jet. Tell me what the fuck is going on. What exactly are we walking into?”

I draw a tight breath in. “The watch. I kept it.”

Sev’s jaw clenches so tight, I’m worried for his molars. “Fuck, Jet.”

“It wasn’t a choice, Sev. What happened… what he did to me.” It takes all I have to hold his gaze and keep my tone steady because no matter what, there’s still a whole lot of shame that just doesn’t go away. No matter how much time passes. No matter how deeply I understand that it wasn’t my fault. “It’s not something you just decide to turn your back on. To forget. And I’ve tried.”

“Fuck.” He shakes his head. “How did it end up in IVI’s hands?” he asks, his tone a hair less pissed off.

“The man where Amal pawned it knew to call a certain number if ever anything with the marking turned up.”

“And Amal is your wife now?”

“You should know I killed two of their men last night,” I say, thinking this part might be the easier conversation to have.

“Jesus Christ. This gets better and better.”

Commotion from the entrance draws our attention. I turn in time to see Amal jerk her arm free of Malcom. Her eyes lock onto mine as she marches toward our table. She’s dressed in fitted jeans, a pale blue cashmere sweater and knee-high riding boots. Her dark curls bounce wildly around her face like she didn’t even bother to try and tame them. No makeup. No effort to soften the fury in her eyes.

She looks untouchable.

Pissed as fuck.

And sexy as hell.

21

AMAL

Idrop my purse loudly on the table, rattling the silverware and the stupid fancy everything and glare at my husband.

“You think I need a babysitter? Two?”

“Four, actually,” he says, grinning that grin he always manages so easily. He rises to his feet and has the nerve to lean in for a kiss.

I drive my elbow into his side. He deserves that for leaving me to be babysat. I’m careful not to hit his knife wound so points to me.

A chuckle shifts my attention to the other man at the table. Severin Blackstone. Jet’s older brother.

“Something funny?” I ask.

“Certainly not,” he says, wiping the corner of his mouth before standing. I know Severin from sight and he knows me but we’ve never really crossed paths. “You must be my new sister-in-law.” He is as tall as Jet with dark hair and steel grey eyes that make me think of a werewolf. His suit is custom, obviously. This man drips money. But of course, he does. He’s a Blackstone. “I’m Jethro’s brother, Severin.” He extends a hand.

I look at it, then up at him and see some similarities between him and Jet. Although physically apart from height and hair color, they don’t share any more commonalities in features, they have a similar look in their eyes. Where Jet’s wildness is something unhidden, a threat staring you in the face, I get the feeling Severin is no less dangerous, just a little more subtle. Fire and ice. Both are deadly under the wrong circumstances.

“Amal Lombardi.” I shake his hand. His grip is warm and firm, but I don’t miss the slight squeeze. A warning. Big brother looking out for his little brother, I guess.

“Malek Lombardi’s daughter,” he says, not yet letting go of my hand.

“I try not to lead with that.”

“Understandably so. Didn’t he try to kill my brother?”

“Luckily, he missed. But I might finish the job.” I slip my hand from Severin’s and turn to Jet.

“Now that you’re here, darling,” Jet starts, pulling out my chair. “Sit.” Jet glances at Malcom who is gritting his teeth but, at a nod from Jet, walks back out to the lobby.

As soon as we’re all seated, the waiter returns to set a place for me and pours me a cup of coffee. “Thank you,” I tell him. “Did you order already?” I ask the brothers, picking up the menu. Severin Blackstone didn’t fly out here on a whim. What happened last night has everything to do with why he’s here and there’s no way I’m letting Jet send me home while he and his brother deal with this secret society.