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“Don’t fool yourself into thinking that my opinion of you will change just because you’re a good Samaritan. You’re still a reckless thug who brings chaos everywhere he goes.” Her voice shakes at my suggestive touch, her gaze dropping to my hand.
“I definitely bring it to the bedroom.” I can’t resist. I love it when she gasps like she’s offended, when she’s really more turned on than she’d ever admit. I caught her staring at my reflection in the mirror. I know what she wants, and I bet she hates herself for it because it challenges her viselike grip on control.
But let’s face it. The only control either of us has right now is all smoke and mirrors. Alek claims to have details and plans and strategies… all the bullshit Val needs to hear because it gives her structure.
I don’t care how long she’s been one of Sev’s soldiers, she’s too naïve for this life. And even after Branko managed to escape her time after time, she still doesn’t get that structure in this world is a fucking illusion. Nothing ever goes to plan, and just when you think you’re close to your target, someone else goes in for the kill.
And it’s not always the target that gets taken out.
I’ve had my share of fuckups, but even I know these scumbags have about a hundred lives. And sometimes trying to eliminate them is like playing a vicious game of Whac-A-Mole.
Spoiler alert, the mole usually wins.
Knowing that never stops me from playing, though. I’ll always go after those fucking bastards. They can’t hide forever, and when they poke their heads out of their holes, I’ll be there to pound the shit outta them.
My brother Patty gets pissed off when I go off the rails, which I guess is pretty often. But as the boss, he needs to focus on the stability of our organization.
I’m not the boss.
And I don’t give a shit about stability.
I won’t turn the other cheek just to keep peace.
The only way to keep peace is to fucking demolish anyone who threatens it. That’s why I went after El Azul. First, it’s sneakers. Next, it’s our weapons trafficking business. Nobody’s gonna stick their grimy hands in our pie while I’m still breathing.
“You are freaking delusional if you think I’m going to sleep with you.”
“We’ve got some time to kill. And since I still have that marriage noose wrapped around my neck, we should probably fuck out all of this frustration.” I wink at her. “I mean, it’s actually more your frustration than mine. I’m an enforcer. I get a job, I do the job. But you seem to be fighting this one hard. You need to let go and decompress before you explode.”
“You’re the one who has me wound so tight.” She grits her teeth, but still makes no attempt to pull away from me.
“Then let me be the one to unravel you.” My lips lift. “You know I’ve got the tools. I saw you checking them out. And they workreallygood.”
Her face floods with a deep red flush. “This is serious.”
“Oh, I know. Shit can go sideways fast if people start exploding. And if I’m to blame, then you should let me fix you before it’s too late.”
Her mouth drops open. I swallow a smile because I do want to fuck her senseless, and if I piss her off, I’ll only end up cockblocking myself.
“Fix me?” she asks in a choked whisper.
That’s when she pushes me away.
Okay, so she does have limits, and I just slammed right into one of them.
“News flash, Quinn. Nothing can ‘fix me.’” Color bleeds down the sides of her neck and up to the tips of her ears. She pokes me in the chest with an accusing finger. “You came out here without a single regret about what trouble you might have caused to your family back in New York, your sports program thing, your whole world. I don’t live like that. I have regrets, so fucking many of them. And the only way I feel like I can redeem myself at all is to find Branko Ivanova and slice the skin from his body like I’m peeling an apple before I shove his dick into a sausage grinder.”
“That’s a vivid image.”
“I’ve had a lot of time to plan my forms of torture.” She uses one hand to sweep her hair out of her eyes. “And don’t think I’ll limit them to Branko if you get in my way.”
“Now I’m scared. And a little hot, if I’m being honest.”
“Please don’t be, because the only way you’re going to be able to cool off is to hop into a cold shower.” She turns in the direction of the kitchen and pads across the floor, tiptoeing around the spot where she shattered the glass.
I shake my head. For someone who craves control, you’d think she would have thought twice before unleashing her rage by smashing a glass against the floor. She could have at least used something that didn’t crack into a million tiny pieces.
Maybe that’s her biggest regret.
