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I wasn’t certain I wanted to believe what I’d seen, a man killed in cold blood because of the attack. Granted, the asshole had attacked me, but there were appropriate ways of handling crimes that didn’t include barbaric methods. Should I feel guilty? Sadly, I wasn’t certain if the man’s death was an act that would remain on my conscience. Maybe I’d become hardened to violence, the act of killing for revenge or redemption. I shifted my attention toward the man who’d protected me, loathing the fact I tingled all over.
Valentin.
The name sparked passion, the syllables trickling off my tongue.
I should be terrified of him, but instead I found myself comfortable in his presence. Still, for all I knew, he’d take my life for what I’d seen.
Then why did I feel such an intense connection?
His stare was dark, more intense than he’d used before. It was also indecipherable, which made me extremely nervous. He exuded an entirely different kind of power than before, still predatory yet his thoughts had turned more savage in nature. Just being this close to the man made me lightheaded, the slight wooziness flowing into my stomach having nothing to do with my need for nourishment. Everything about him screamed of unbridled passion, including his voluptuous lips, the shade the color of ripe strawberries still on the vine.
I forced myself to look away, trying to control the nervous tic I felt in the corner of my mouth. The silence between us was awkward, almost unbearable. He was testing me, determining if I could handle his brutal prowess. Even though I knew exactly who and what he was, the kind of savagery he performed as the firstborn son of a very powerful Mafioso family, I longed to reach out, tracing the angular lines of his face. I hungered to slide my fingers down his sculpted chest, savoring the feel of his rippling muscles.
He was a beautiful man, even more so up close, my thoughts turning as lurid as his heated gaze had been the entire time. I had to force my mind away from the treachery it was providing, remembering that he was exactly like the monsters I’d reported on over the last two years. Perhaps even more so.
I took a cautious sip of the bourbon, chastising myself for even thinking he’d poisoned it. He had no idea who I was, and it was going to stay that way. I’d purposefully given him a false last name for fear he’d believe my landing on his doorstep had been something other than an accident. Had I known he was the owner of the restaurant, I would never have stepped foot inside.
I had far too many enemies as it was, several death threats sent over the last year. I certainly didn’t need a new enemy in another city.
It would appear you already have one.
I bit my lip to keep from making any sound. Maybe the attack had been random. Right. Keep lying to yourself. There was far too much to lose in my life, precious things that would gut me. I knew I should simply issue a polite thank you, calling a cab, but I was intrigued by him more than I had a right to be.
A slow, ominous smile crossed his face as he leaned in. “Do I make you nervous, Cassidy?”
“Are you trying to?” The gun alone made me anxious.
When his smile changed, I took a deep breath, still tingling deep into my core.
“No, I am not.”
His words were direct, stated with authority. I had a feeling he was the kind of man that if he wanted you nervous, you were already dead. I thought about the way Valentin had shot the assailant, still shocked he’d done so without any hesitation. It was obvious his power extended throughout the area, which allowed him to stay under the radar.
Or perhaps he owned a good portion of the cops.
I hadn’t talked to my father about crime in what he considered his city in years for a reason. The stories he liked to boast about handling, bragging about disgusting scenes of murder had gotten out of hand. I’d wanted nothing more than to get out of New York, finding a smaller town to call home. I’d been happy for four months. Then the lure of working in Chicago had taken me to another crime-ridden city, more enemies and dangerous men ruling the streets.
I’d stayed because I’d liked the job, at least at first.
I was a fool for flirting with a man like Valentin, even if the sound of his voice alone increased my blood pressure. Everything about him screamed of danger.
“What do you do for a living, Cassidy?” His question was casual, but I could tell he was searching for more.
“I work for a publishing company.” At least it was only a half lie.
“Sounds interesting. Fiction?”
I watched as he dragged his hand through his jet-black hair and I marveled how thick it was, concentrating on the single strand that continued to slide across his high forehead, accentuating his carved features.
Damn it, I needed to get a grip. He’d played the savior, but he was no saint.
He was the devil in disguise.
“Some, but some authors provide mysterious tales of woe and strife,” I answered casually.
He swirled the tip of his index finger around and around the rim of his glass, the subtle gesture drawing my attention. He had strong hands, the kind that whispered of heated caresses. Swallowing, I forced myself to look away, realizing a single bead of perspiration had managed to trickle down from my hairline, sliding ever so slowly toward my lips. I was shocked when he reached out, slipping his finger through the salty bead. As if in slow motion, he brought the tip of his finger to his lips, darting out his tongue.
Even the way his eyes were half closed as he savored the moment was far too seductive. I hid behind my glass, taking another sip then a gulp, praying the alcohol would calm my nerves. While I wasn’t his prisoner, my instinct told me I wasn’t going anywhere until he decided the time was right.
