Page 21 of Targeted By Desire

My partner gave me a nod once she was through. She’s clean, she signed with her free hand.

“Good,” I replied. I took a few steps backwards, towing my date towards the table.

Looking over her head, I made eye contact with Maria. She was still glued in the doorway, weapon pointed and cocked. I gave her a firm nod. I could handle our little friend from here.

Lowering the gun, she returned the gesture and exited the room.

Simone glanced over her shoulder at the click of the closed door. ”I knew you didn’t work alone,” she muttered under her breath.

“Aren’t you smart?” Finally releasing her arm, I reached for the lapels of her coat again. This time, she didn’t protest. She let me grip the fabric and slide it down her arms, uncovering the beautiful dress underneath. My eyes lingered on her open back, eyeing the angel wings tattooed on the back of her toned shoulder blades. “Shame all this beauty and brains are going to waste.”

Simone ignored my comment and sat down in her seat. Her eyes scoured the table in search of a knife or fork. She scowled when she didn’t see one. “Where’s Justin?” She asked.

“Taking a nap in the trunk,” I replied as I grabbed the open bottle of wine. “Is red okay? He picked it out.”

Her eyes widened. “Don’t tell me you hurt him! He’s done nothing wrong!”

“He’ll be fine,” I assured her as I poured the wine into her glass. “As long as you behave, he’ll wake up tomorrow morning in his bed feeling like he’s hungover.”

“And no memory, or evidence, of being attacked?”

“Calm down. Your little boy toy wasn’t harmed. One little prick and he was out like a light.” I nudged the wine glass towards her. “Drink.”

She eyed the glass wearily.

“It’s not poison,” I promised.

“Prove it.” She grabbed the stem and held it up to me.

“Fine.” I took the glass out of her hand and held it to my lips. Rather than putting my mouth on the rim, I tilted my head back and poured the wine into my mouth. I’d be damned if I left any DNA evidence - especially around her. “Happy?” I asked after I swallowed.

“No,” she admitted. “I was praying you’d choke.”

I chuckled. “Clearly you don’t know who you’re dealing with.”

She leaned forward. “And who exactly is that?”

I stepped away from her side and took my place on the opposite side of the table. “Eat,” I said, motioning to the spread of appetizers on the table. “Or must I taste test everything?”

Rolling her eyes, she reached for a toasted ravioli. She dipped it in the marinara sauce and took a bite. “So, is this part of your plan? Fill me up with food and wine so when they find my body, they’ll think of a date gone wrong?”

“If they find your body,” I corrected her. “Might be best if they don’t. Keep your boy toy off the hook at least.”

“And how exactly are you going to kill me?”

I raised a brow. “You really wanna know?”

“Nah,” she said, scrunching up her nose. “Don’t wanna ruin the element of surprise. But, I am curious: is there anything you’d be willing to trade in exchange for letting me go?”

“Depends. What do you think is more valuable than your life?”

The question always interested me. In these types of situations, the answers always varied. Sometimes it’s money, other times it's diamonds and jewels, and more often than expected: it’s someone else’s life - inferior by comparison but still a token to wager. I wondered which category Simone’s answer was going to fall in.

“Immunity,” she replied with hesitation. “You let me live and I’ll intervene against any investigations formed against you - present and future.”

“And what if I don’t want a free pass? What else would you have in mind?”

“You’d be an idiot to pass up an offer like that. If the feds got their hands on you -“