Page 59 of Vicious Temptation

I turn and walk away without waiting for a response. Only this time, I make myself keep going.

Sixteen

Thiago

Stalking? No. Strategically using circumstances to my advantage? Absolutely.

When a water main broke in the C wing of the precinct, flooding the area beside the range, I suggested we book Sloane’s instead of canceling tonight’s firearms training. It’s been a week since I last saw Remi, and I gave her time to grieve before finding a reason to put myself in her path again.

Despite our brief civility at the cemetery, she told me we weren’t friends, and I believed her. But that doesn’t mean I’m giving up. Little by little, I’m chipping away at her walls, and I can see the first cracks forming. Eventually, I’ll gain her trust and take what I need.

Even thinking about it makes my stomach turn.

My Aunt Priscilla always said a guilty conscience feels like a punch to the gut, a sick feeling that tells you when you’re heading down the wrong path. Lately, I’ve started to understand exactly what she meant. But I have to believe I’m doing the right thing, that whatever guilt comes with this is worth it for my father and for everyone else who’s died at the hands of The Six and organizations like it.

What I won’t do is lie to myself by pretending Remi is just another assignment, that she’s simply the enemy or someone meant to be neutralized. I know better now.

She’s dangerous in more ways than one, including every way a woman can be lethal to a man.

“Nice choice of venue,” Ryan says, clapping me on the shoulder and shaking his head with amusement as we head toward Sloane’s entrance.

There are eight of us tonight, including Grey.

We aren’t in tactical gear, but there’s no mistaking what we are. Every head turns in our direction the second we step inside. It’s not every day a group of armed men walks into a gun range looking like they’re ready for a raid instead of target practice.

Remi seems to be the only one oblivious to our arrival, her back to us as she talks with her cousin, whose face I recognize immediately from the files.

Valentina Belova, another Cain tied directly to The Six.

The woman’s eyes flick toward us before returning to Remi, then she subtly motions in our direction.

Remi turns.

Our eyes meet across the lobby, and for a few seconds, I forget about the seven men standing around me.

She’s as beautiful as I remember, but something about her has changed. A thick platinum streak cuts through one side of her dark hair, stark against the black waves spilling over her shoulder. It reminds me of some of the older pictures I’d seen of her, before the color disappeared completely. My gaze follows the streak down to those red-painted lips. Fuck, I love that color on her. Maybe a little too much, considering how badly I want to smear it across both our mouths again.

The last time I saw her, she was standing in a cemetery, dressed in black, tears in her eyes. The change feels significant, as if there’s a version of Remi from before that day and another standing in front of me now.

Whatever passes between us disappears when her pretty face twists into a scowl and she mouths, You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Both palms hit the plexiglass counter as she pushes to her feet and stalks toward me.

“Your girl looks happy to see us,” Grey mutters, trying to sound annoyed, but I catch the grin on his face as he watches her approach.

Before I can respond, Remi grabs my wrist and pulls me away from the others, past the lobby and toward a nearby display.

“I thought I told you never to come back here,” she snaps. “And not only did you come back, but you brought your asshole friend with you.”

“One, I already told you, he’s not my friend. We’re teammates.” I glance back toward the group. “And two, I was never served a trespass order.”

“That can be arranged.” She steps into me, and I hold my ground. “Leave.”

“Come on, Remi. I thought we were past this.”

“One conversation out of pure obligation while I was out of my mind, and you think I’m just going to forget that you lied to me?” she asks, tilting her head.

“No, but I was hoping you’d hate me a little less.”

“Keep hoping.”