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“And?”
“It’s…as we’d suspected.”
“You mean as we’d hoped?”
The corners of my mouth compress. I can’t bring myself to match his specifier. I didn’t hope for this. To be so fucking…moved…by another human being, to the point that my blood pulses differently and my senses fire with new life.
Life that I can’t acknowledge.
Not when I’m preparing to snuff it all out in less than eight hours.
But a thousand more lines of that poetry won’t change the part of me that needs Quinn Lemarr the most.
“I’m not completely certain. But so far, everything matches as it should. Her skin and eye colors. The valentine face shape, and the similar mark near her right ear.”
“And its twin in more intimate places?” At last something other than irritation flashes on my friend’s face. But only for a second. That’s all the time he needs for the lewd jibe. “Oh, do tell me the alluring Darian Z was able to charm his way that far.”
I stifle an irked frown, tempted to lie to the bastard just to shut him up. But without emergency vehicles screaming toward the office building I departed, he’d instantly call my bluff. And then, just for fun, stab me a few times.
“We were in her office. The assistant was down the hall. Not the most prime circumstances for ordering a woman to strip naked.”
“Waist-down isn’t naked.” Kaz chuffs. “Unless she’s willing to do more. You’ve dabbled in more lecherous adventures than a simple office tryst. Not that this one would be simple.”
I should take his small concession and gloat. But the sun ducks behind another cloud, handing over an excuse to drop into stiff silence. What’s happened between Quinn and me is none of the bastard’s business, at least not at this point. When it’s time for him to know more, I’ll be over this nauseating brood and ready to tell him.
I’ll have to be.
“I told her to meet me tonight at the villa. You need to phone her assistant with the details.”
He nods. “Affirmative. A wise plan. The villa is the last structure before the fire road up in that neighborhood. After you do what you need to, we can take the body and—”
“Make me the number one suspect, as soon as the authorities find her?” I snap.
“It,” he growls back. “It, not her. Don’t start humanizing this, D.”
I rear back. “But that’s exactly what we’re attempting, right? To become real boys again, Lampwick?” I ignore his peeved scowl. He hates the Pinocchio reference but two can play at grabbing at the puppet strings here. “Because that’s what we’ll be if I’m successful tonight—”
“When you’re successful.”
“And I’m sure as shit not starting my numbered mortal days in an LAPD interrogation room.”
I send out the conclusion with twice the violence of its first half, but Kaz can take it. Moreover, he has it coming. It’s always been easier for the prick to be so casual about it all, knowing he’s not the one who has to make this happen, so he can damn well weather a few rough snarls as his part of the payment.
Well…part of his part.
Fortunately, he seems to remember that. “Yeah, All right,” he relents in a mutter. “So you want a ride back up to the Carpathians or what?”
I chuff. “It’s called the Palisades around here, and it’s just a few foothills.”
He scowls. “Anything higher than thirty meters and you’re falling to your death.”
“Something I don’t plan on doing today.”
“And there’s the fucking truth.” He tucks in against the chill too. “Come on. The car’s not far.”
“Thanks, but I’ll call a service.” Despite knowing the backlash to come, I’m compelled by the sight of the families packing up to head inside. “Time to clear out some cobwebs.”
Sure enough, before I’m done tapping at my forehead, Kaz is whipping out a retort. “Isn’t that what tonight’s for?”
I grunt hard. “I know what tonight’s for.”
“And I know you, Dario.” He brandishes my baptized name with an arrogant flourish. “Brooding at all that clay, canvas, and paint won’t redeem your soul in the next few hours.”
I wheel from him as if not caring about the jibe. And seriously wishing I didn’t. “Keep your shit away from my soul, Kazpian.”
“Fuck her and then kill her, Dario.”
“I know the goddamned assignment, cousin.”
As I enter the museum with furious stomps, my roiling gut—and throbbing cock—are nowhere near letting me forget it.
