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“And?”
“And you’ve got a fucking type,” he chuckles. “A redhead with blue eyes? And I hear she’s a serious firecracker?”
“You haven’t heard the half of it,” I mutter.
Colton starts to laugh heartily. “Man, you’re fucked, aren’t you?”
“I’ll be fine, asshole,” I grumble. “Just let me know if the mob army is about break down my door, yeah?”
Colton chuckles. “I’ll try. Take care of yourself though, Max. Later.”
He hangs up and I sink back into the couch. Fuck, my head is swimming. My side aches. I glance back at the door, imagining Tessa on the other side of it. My side ain’t the only thing aching right now. The bullet wound is courtesy of Dino. But the thick bulge in my jeans is all Tessa. I growl like an animal.
I’ve never wanted a woman the way I want this girl. I’ve never lusted so primally like I am for her. It’s not even that I want to have her. It feels as if she’s already mine. It feels as if Dino coming after me is actually him coming to take what’s mine. And that brings out some seriously evolutionary alpha shit in me. It’s like a primal instinct to protect her and keep her all to myself. Which is fucked up, since I’m the one that took her off the street. But it is what it is.
I think again to the way her sundress rode up high. I remember the flash of her panties tight across her ass. I groan, and my hand falls to my lap. I cup the thickness there under the denim and snarl. But suddenly, my phone rings again.
“Fuck,” I hiss. I answer it quickly. “Fuck, Colt. You miss me already?”
“Well, that depends.”
Shit. The voice on the other end is definitely not my friend. I glance at the phone screen and see that it’s a blocked number.
“Who is this?”
“Do we know each other well enough for me to miss you?”
“Who the fuck is this?” I hiss.
The man chuckles darkly. “My name is Takahashi. Special Agent Takahashi, Mr. Ryan.”
I freeze. “Special Agent as in…”
“As in the FBI.”
Oh fuck. I take a breath. “What can I do for you, Special Agent Takahashi—”
“Let’s skip the games, huh? And you can call me Mike.”
“I don’t think we need to get personal, do you?” I grunt.
He chuckles. “Believe me, Max, I already know pretty much everything about you. But call me whatever the fuck you want.”
“What do you want,” I mutter. I reach for my gun and glance at the door to the loft space.
“Not you, so relax,” Mike answers. “Well, probably not you.”
“Meaning?”
“We’re after Dino De Luca. I know you work for him.”
“Worked,” I grunt. “Past tense.”
“Yeah, I’m aware that your arrangement has… soured.”
I say nothing. Mike keeps going.
“I’m reaching out because I know you and Mr. De Luca have parted ways, and not well. I know you’ve got half the mob looking for you and probably a few dirty cops, and now there’s a price on your head. I’m guessing you’re still holed up in New York somewhere.”
