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“Feels like a never-ending journey. Denis Stepanov and Branko are the last of the Brotherhood 7 and yet, they’re un-freaking-touchable.”
“Not for long. You have exactly what you need to catch them both.”
I let out a snort. “Oh, you mean Quinn Mulligan? My knight in shining armor?”
“I know him from my dealings with his brother, Patrick. He’s a little bit of a rogue, but his intentions are good.”
A dry laugh bites the air. “That’s very diplomatic of you. I think he’s a total idiot who has no idea what we’re up against.”
“He’ll learn quickly how to play the game. But remember, you have a common bond. He wants to keep his family safe as much as you do. And Branko is as much of an enemy to him as he is to you.”
“The guy is a loose cannon. He’s going to screw this whole thing up if he doesn’t play it right. This is our last shot to get Branko. If he gets tipped off about us getting close, he’ll disappear forever. He has information that can damage us all. At some point, he may just use it. We don’t have any chances left.”
“Maybe you should talk to Quinn.” Boris nods his head behind me, but I don’t follow his gaze to the lobby. “You’re about to marry him. You should at least have one conversation first. Get a sense of him.”
“I don’t trust him.” Something in me refuses to look in Quinn’s direction. Probably the annoying little bitch of desire that swirls in my core when his blue eyes sear a hole straight into my soul.
Those eyes, that undoing. I’ve felt that sensation before, at a time when I least expected it. It scared the hell out of me then because it was a glaring reminder of what I let happen that night at the arena, not only to me, but Charly.
Before that night, I was a bratva princess. A sketch artist. I loved puppies, Disney fairy-tale movies, romance novels, and lipstick. And after my life was nearly yanked out from under me, I decided to take on a new role.
I kept secrets from my brothers and sisters, damaging ones that came back to haunt them later. I gave up my dreams of happily ever after in exchange for a future. And I took control of my life when I realized how much I was missing it.
For years I’ve tried to channel my inner badass so I’m never that damsel again, never the one who has to rely on some white night to sweep me off my feet and protect me from the villains.
I don’t need anyone’s protection. I battle the villains myself.
But Quinn’s gaze… it’s so disarming. It makes my mind trip back to the dangers that can overtake you when you’re so far out of control of your life, the way I once was.
Like how out of control I suddenly feel with him hovering over my shoulder.
Maybe the reminder is a good thing because it’ll keep me focused on what we need to do instead of the way my body hums when he’s near.
“You have no choice but to trust him.” Boris pats me on the arm. “That’s the only way this will work. You’re a smart girl. You know that.”
“Thanks for being here today. You make Dad feel closer somehow. And after what happened on the day of my last wedding…” Tears sting my eyes.
Dammit.
Weakness.
I blink fast. Forget what happened that day. It’s only one of the reasons why I’m going to laugh when I plunge a knife into Branko Ivanova’s throatafterexecuting the most brutal torture imaginable.
“It’s in the past.” Boris turns me slightly to the side. “Look toward your future instead of dwelling on what was.”
I reluctantly allow my eyes to travel through the glass door. They land on a tall man dressed in black who’s staring down at a display case in the lobby. The jacket rests on his broad, muscled shoulders, his dark head dipped low to look at whatever captured his attention. The girl behind the case hands him something and he holds it up, a smile lifting his lips. A pair of dark-rimmed glasses perch on his nose, his strong jaw relaxed as he talks to her.
He turns suddenly, and I choke on a breath.
Holy shit.
It’s Quinn.
A chill licks at the back of my neck, then shimmies down my spine as his clear blue eyes drink me in. I can feel them slide over my bare skin, causing goosebumps to shoot up my arms and down my legs. Every second that he takes to rake his gaze over the length of my body makes butterflies come alive in my belly and swarm wildly.
I snap my lips closed, aware that my mouth fell open once he flashed that come-hither look.
My legs move on their own, completely ignoring my mind, which is screaming at them to stay right where they are. But I’m inexplicably drawn to him like a moth to a flame, and my body doesn’t want to hear the words “stop” or “hell fucking no.”
