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Fucking winner, if I’ve ever heard of one. And yet thiswinnerhas left his plaything behind; one innocent soul ready for my taking.
Luca must not know he’s fucked with the wrong crew.
Walking carefully down the empty hallway, I smell the rubber and sawdust in the air as the building was just built this past year. My heart begins to pound a little harder now, even though jobs never excite me anymore—nothing ever does.
Nothing, except now for the thought of sharing a breath in the same room as Sara Carter.Tonight.
* * *
Getting into the building itself isn’t all that tough. No, as the tricky part is making my waysilentlyinside Luca’s apartment. The door can only unlock with a specific code and set of fingerprints.
But lucky enough for me, all it takes is kidnapping the right underling to get what I want.
Underlingmay be a strong word, perhaps. Vlad is Luca’s cousin, and he’s likely in a basement somewhere right now. I wonder if Kristina will end up letting the kid go or just have him taken care of by sunrise.
But why do I care?
None of that shit is my problem. My men snapped up Vlad earlier this morning, and pretty soon Luca will hear who’s missing. Yet it’ll be too late.
Vlad already coughed up the code to his cousin’s apartment, along with a glass Luca was using only moments before we swept in. We were able to lift his prints, creating silicone copies for tonight’s operation to go as planned.
Within seconds of tapping the code into the door, I feel the gears working seamlessly beneath the cool metal. Peeling the fake thumbprint off, I toss it aside and open the door quietly.
Sara has left a trail of lights on in the place, making it easy on me. The foyer just inside is grand, as overhead, a chandelier lights up the gray tiled floor.
I have three options; head for the archway on my right, the archway on my left, or go for the one straight ahead.
A quick glance to my right reveals the kitchen; cutting-edge, with everything stainless steel. A recessed refrigerator and built-in wine cabinet line the back wall. Immediately, I can tell Sara’s not in there, and so I go straight ahead out of my two other options.
I step into what seems to be a living space, though it feels cold and empty. Sara has thrown a large designer bag on the white couch, along with a winter jacket. But taking the jacket in, I squint. It’s not Luca’s style, as it sticks out like a sore thumb in here.
The thin jacket looks worn and massive—it would easily fit my figure. But passing over the out-of-place scrap, I continue on.
A metal, modern-style staircase seems to lead to the master bedroom. I begin up the stairs, my boots scuffing softly against the short steps. It’s difficult to stay quiet considering my size, but I’ve managed it thus far.AndI’m almost there.
Releasing a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, I take the final step into the bedroom. Pristine, king-sized bed is center stage and something draws my gaze up. A mirror consumes the ceiling, making me scowl—though I shouldn’t be so shocked.
Luca has always had a sick fascination with his pretty-boy face. From the rumors I’ve heard of how he treats his soon-to-be-wife, I doubt the mirror is here to watch Sara grind on top of him. I don’t peg her to be that sort of girl as her innocence radiates.
Across the space, an opaque glass wall with blue and white tile depicts where the bathroom begins. A shadowed figure moves across the surface of the glass.
Sara.
I fish out the paracord, my deft fingers moving swiftly as I wear the spool like a bracelet around my wrist, quietly making my way forward.
She sighs, and for a second, a sliver of me feels the need to fix whatever’s bothering the angel. The realization has me hesitating, and just long enough for her to hear the glass door creak as I push it open.
Sara spins, her sunshine locks spilling over her shoulders, eyes wide with fear. She stumbles back, managing to catch herself against the sink—but I’m already on her in two strides.
Gathering both of her wrists in one hand is easy. The girl is petite,andI fucking love it.
“Hold still,” I demand lowly, and she continues to try to get away, panting now.
“No—get—” her breaths are short. She’s gasping anxiously, hair sticking to her luscious lips—her long legs trying to knee me in the balls. I spin her around, shoving my hips and chest against her tiny body. Her pert little ass is nudging my dick; a dangerous position, as getting turned on from afar is nothing compared to what’s going down now.
Practiced movements lead to her wrists being tied behind her back in a heartbeat. Sara starts kicking her foot out backwards, her heel catching me in the shin.Fuck.
Not thinking, I slap her ass in reprimand.
