Page 42
She laid my phone on the sofa, then picked up the wallet and opened it.
“Driver’s license. Black card…nice. Cash. Another condom. Optimistic, aren’t you? Or was I just that easy to believe?” She flipped through the contents, then glanced at me, tsking. “So much restraint, and yet here we are.”
Her thumb brushed the edge of my license.
“Lachlan Kieran Byrnes,” she read. “Such a strong name for a man with such bad survival instincts.”
The rage came fast enough to choke me.
My body couldn’t act on the fury, but the image of my hands around her throat as the life faded from her eyes carved itself into me. I would spend the rest of my life hunting her for what she’d done.
She tossed the wallet beside the phone. “Don’t worry. I’ll leave both where your friends expect them to be. Location stable. No doors opening. No cars leaving. Nothing to attract attention to the beginning of your new life.”
She leaned closer, and her voice softened into the same tone she’d used when she was pressed against my chest.
“Nik is very good, isn’t he? But even good men can only watch the exits they know exist.”
My pulse hammered against the drug holding me down.
She stood and pointed toward the corner near the ceiling. “Smile for the camera, Lachlan.”
My gaze fought its way up.
A small black lens sat hidden near a light. Then she pointed to another one tucked above the doorway; the wire was painted the same color as the trim.
Bile burned the back of my throat.
Ciro and his men had watched her seduce me.
She had known they were watching while she’d climbed onto me, while she’d made me believe every breath, every touch, every broken little confession had been real.
A sick laugh slipped out of her. “Don’t take it personally. Papi likes to watch. And I like the fat paycheck.”
Her smile twisted as she crouched over me again. “But the money isn’t the best part.”
The way she looked at me then had nothing to do with desire and everything to do with ownership.
“Besides,” she said, dragging one nail down my throat, “you have no idea how beautiful men like you are when they stop believing they’re in control.”
A growl escaped from my chest.
She caught my hair in her fist, yanking my head back far enough to send pain down my neck.
“That’s the problem with honorable men,” she said. “They always step closer to the knife.”
I stared at her, violence burning through the fog in my head.
“You wanted me helpless.” Her grip tightened. “I needed you useful.”
I tried to lunge.
My body twitched and failed.
She saw it and laughed.
“You really did think you were saving me, huh?”
Her face moved closer, her mouth near my ear.
