“What can I do for you, Lewis ?” I ask.“First, I wanted to give you my condolences. I heard about your father.” He sounds genuine enough. I’ve met jamie on two occasions. The first time was after Gustavo died and he’d come to New Jersey to pay his respects. The second was when he returned to Jersey, attempting a truce after the incident with Colwill , something I highly admired him for. Took fucking balls.“Thank you,” I say politely. I don’t ask him how he got my number. We all have our ways. Instead, I urge him to get to the point of the call. “What can I do for you, Lewis ?”“Call me Jamie ”“All right, Jamie . I’d expect anything you might need would be asked of Andre . Not me.”He sighs. “I’ve tried. Unfortunately, your cousin has no interest in a conversation with me, no matter that what I have to say affects him.”I sit up, my brows pinched tightly together. “You have my attention.”“I thought I would.” He exhales again, louder this time, as if he has something heavy on his c
“A few times,” I said. “It’s run by Gary ward .”“Apparently, he hands out those rings to his regulars.”“And who the fuck did this one belong to?” I asked.“You’ll have to ask him yourself,” he told me. “Even I can’t break into his systems to get that. I can get you his phone number, though.”I remained silent while I considered that. The Ward Ward House is an underground organization in Philadelphia that specializes in black market art and antiquities. Though I’ve never had any dealings with the Gary , I know my uncle did. The question is, were they on civil terms?“Do that,” I said. If only Gary Ward can give me the information I need about the owner of the ring, then I have no choice but to ask nicely. Or at least, start off that way.As it turns out, Uncle Gustavo did have a good relationship with Gary Ward . Though that shouldn’t surprise me. He was a man who earned respect.Arran agreed to meet me at Vino, a restaurant in Philadelphia.When I arrive that evening at nine sharp
His eyes flick up to mine. “Leave it with me. I’ll have my head of security determine who it belongs to and take care of it.”“How?”“They’re chipped. Beneath the ruby.” He touches the gemstone. “It’s a sort of magnetic keycard.”“Fancy,” I say.“It is. You should visit sometime. I’ll give you a trial membership. Cancel anytime.”“Art isn’t my thing.” I tilt my chin toward the ring still in his hand. “Tell me who it belongs to, and I’ll owe you.”“Member information is confidential,” he states.“Then why the hell offer to help me?” I snatch it from his hand before he can think about pulling it out of my reach.He smirks. “I didn’t offer anything. I said I’d find out who the owner is. Losing one of these rings is unacceptable.”Sliding it back on, I grin. “Well, unless you’re willing to take it off my cold, dead body, I suggest we make a deal.”“I could kill you.” He smiles a deadly sort of smile that only someone like me can recognize. I can see beyond the expensive blue suit and tie,
“Harry Kane He owns The S Gallery in Hoboken.”“He visits Ward House?”“On occasion,” he replies. “Kane is a discreet collector. Only shows up when something very unique comes our way. And on occasion, he uses my services to sell something also very unique. I don’t appreciate the loss of his business. But he knows the rules. Risk exposing us, and you’re out. Expose us, and you’re dead.”“Harsh rules,” I retort. “Glad I never joined “Making money is risky.”“It’s possible he’s not aware he’s lost the ring,” I offer. “It would be beneficial if it remains that way. Besides, you have the ring now. No harm, no foul to you. Wait a couple of weeks before you boot him out.”He makes a noise that sounds a lot like a snort, though I can’t see a man like him doing that. “I hope you’re as quick to repay the favor as you are to make demands. You have two weeks.” Harry Reed Kane lives in a renovated townhouse on the corner of Hudson and Ninth. He made his money as a restaurateur in Manhattan, th
From my position, I can clearly see inside the gallery through the long windows that flank the entrance. It’s exactly what I’d expect an art gallery to look like—a large, open industrial space with a high ceiling that exposes beams and duct work, the supporting walls made of red brick and wood flooring.However, there are several narrow walls at various angles on which art is displayed that block part of the view to the back.Was he shot here before he somehow made his way to the Hudson? Was he chased and forced into the water?My gaze follows an invisible trail from the building to the river, mapping all possible routes.When I feel enough of a crowd has gathered inside that I can easily walk around unnoticed, I head toward the entrance. The security guard, who’s dressed as well as the patrons, greets me, moving aside to allow me in.A man in black slacks and a white button-up shirt lifts a silver tray filled with champagne flutes. “Drink, sir?”“Thank you,” I say, taking one. But I
“Raw, huh?” It’s her throaty laughter that has me finally turning to her, and I wish I hadn’t.The sight of this girl is a sledgehammer to the gut. I’m left unable to breathe or think. All I can do is take her in. The fiery long waves that frame her perfect face and accentuate large brilliant-blue eyes and pouty pink lips.In the span of a few seconds, a hundred images and thoughts whirl through my brain. What would those pink lips taste like? What would they feel like pressed against my own or wrapped around my dick as she peers up at me with those insanely blue eyes.Is her hair as soft as it looks? I could dig my fingers into those curls, fist them in my hands as I do things to her that would leave us both sweaty and breathless.Would she let me?She’s not dressed to blend like everyone else. Instead of the black or white that seems to be the color of choice at a thing like this, she’s wearing a bright-yellow dress. The kind that might be more appropriate for a park on a sunny day,
Her lips quirk.Raya “was in my class at Pratt. Her least popular pieces are my favorite. But art speaks differently to everyone. That’s why they say it’s subjective. Like beauty.”Thinking beauty might be subjective with certain things, but not her—she is most definitely, factually, beautiful—I say, “You’re an artist too, then.”She shrugs. “Subjective. Some would say all I do is draw lines. Others see rainstorms.”“Some see beautiful trees,” I add. “And a beautiful woman.”Cheeks flushed again, she parts her lips. But before she can speak, someone calls from across the room.“Em!”We both turn to the man coming our way, his strides long and determined. When he reaches us, he’s staring at me, not her, his gaze hard and judgmental.Beside me, the girl flashes every shade of red, her eyes going from me to the man I recognize instantly as Harry Kane .“Dad, this is…” She narrows her eyes as if she’s trying to remember. “Actually, we didn’t introduce ourselves.”Dad? Did she just call him
A way in. And if I discover Harry did kill my father, she’ll not only become my prey.She’ll be my sweetest revenge.Natalia Don’t look back. Don’t look back.I stop with my foot on the first step of the stairs that lead to the offices, my hand on the iron rail, and peer over my shoulder.How could I not when I sense his gaze on me so intensely, he might as well be touching me?Nathan .He’s standing where I left him. And I was right. He’s still staring my way.His eyes seem to glow against his tan skin as he sends a wolfish grin my way, and my heart almost comes to a complete stop.There’s something a little scary about the way he watches me. Almost as if he knows me. Like he can see inside me and pluck every thought from my mind before I can even think it. Like he can intuit my desires before I feel them.Could he grant them too?A delicious shiver runs through me at the thought. Yes, definitely scary. And exciting.I smile back and nod before ascending to the second floor.There
“You’re here!” I say, heading toward it but stop when it’s Katy who appears.“You!” she hisses. “I knew something was off. He didn’t kill you!”Before I can answer, she’s on me like a rabid cat. She claws at me, slapping every part of me she can make contact with.Startled, I raise my hands protectively over my face, afraid to hit her back and severely hurt her. As it is, Nathan already hates me for any part I might have played in the death of his father.The woman may be older and weaker, but her strikes are impactful. She shoves against me, slapping her palms against my shoulders and chest, driving me toward the rear of the deck. It all happens so fast that I don’t realize I’m so close to the glass rail until it hits my lower back.“You have to calm down!” I plead.“Why did he have to want you? You look nothing like me! But Leo always liked them younger. Tell me, did you like how he fucked you?”“What? You think I slept with your husb—” Another whack, this time right across the chin
But he saved my life. He risked himself to keep me alive. And fuck it all, I love him! I can’t just sit back and let him die.A chair is pushed and the sound of footsteps come my way. Before they reach the doors, I bolt out the entrance and am already across the street when I hear, “Natalia !”But I don’t stop. Don’t look back. My mission now is to save Nathan Natalia Irun like the Devil is at my heels, not bothering to glance back over my shoulder, because even that simple action could cost me precious seconds.For blocks, I maintain that speed, my lungs burning and the stitch on my side threatening to bring me down.When I’m far enough that I feel anyone following would have lost sight of me, I tuck myself into an alley and wait. After several minutes, I tug my cell phone out and dial Nathan , but it goes straight to voicemail.“Pick up, dammit!” I dial again, but like before, it goes to his mail.“Nathan . You have to leave your house. A man named Steven Kroos is coming. He’s bri
“The hell it is. Do you have any idea the worry you put me through? No calls or texts the last couple of—” His eyes bulge from his skull as he takes in the blood on my shirt. “You’re hurt.” “No, Dad. It’s not my blood. I’m not hurt.” He digs his fingertips into the corners of his eyes as if he’s trying to keep from crying. “I thought I would lose my mind when I found out exactly who you were with. His name isn’t Nathan Manguire . It’s Nathan Carlos .” I rear back in shock that he knows. “What?” “My gut was right, Em. He’s a fucking criminal. The worst kind.” “How do you know that?” From the study, the handsome man who visited the gallery to meet with Dad steps out. Steven Kroos . His icy-blue stare roves over me, and he smiles. “I’m glad to see you’re home safe. Especially after being in the Robertson den.” “Mr. Kroos is the one who tracked down information on Carlos . Nathan is their new godfather.” His eyes narrow on me. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?” Looking betwee
He tilts his head, his eyes raking over my face, searching. “What makes you think that?” “It was in the way he looked at me,” I say. “It’s the same wayyoulook at me. I know you said he loved your stepmother, but I swear it’s true.” “I saidsheloved him. I never said he loved her back.” He glances out the windshield, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. “Is that why you killed him? You didn’t appreciate his attentions?” “He came to the house when my father wasn’t there. I’m not even sure how he got in. But he followed me from room to room and begged me to give him a chance. I asked him to leave, told him that he was scaring me. He decided to grab me and try to kiss me. “I got out of his hold and ran to the desk drawer my father keeps his Glock in and threatened him. He still refused to leave. The moment he took a step toward me, I shot. It was meant to scare him, nothing more. I could never kill anyone. The bullet grazed his arm, but he was alive.” “You didn’t follow him out?
“You cut yourself,” I say. “It wouldn’t have been believable otherwise.” “Why did you do it, Nathan ? Why did you spare my life?” He pulls over several blocks from my house. We sit there in silence for what seems like forever, the only sound the pitter-patter of scattered rain against the windshield. “Why did you save me?” I repeat the question that’s been burning in my mind. “Your mother wants me dead, but you saved me.” Without turning to me, he replies, “Iwanted you dead.” His response is another blow to my already battered heart. But he deserves the truth. “I didn’t kill your father, Nathan . It wasn’t me.” Now he does turn to me and I almost wish he hadn’t. The shadows I’ve wondered about from the start have emerged and they’re darker and more terrifying than I could have imagined. They’re blackened with Nathan ’s fury, hate, grief, and confusion. They tear at my chest, splaying it open. Raw pain fills me at the sight of those beautiful golden eyes looking so tortured, spa
My gaze flicks from her to the elevator and to the rooftop access door, wondering if I could somehow reach either of them. And if I did, are they unlocked? As if from out of thin air, Nathan produces a piece of rope. When he tries to take one of my wrists, I make to get up again, but I’m slammed into the damned chair again. It doesn’t matter how much I fight, he easily pulls my hands behind me and ties them. “You wanted her, there she is,” he says to her, and I notice with at least a bit of satisfaction that he’s panting. I guess I wasn’t that easy to subdue. Nathan ’s stepmother comes toward me, her hips swaying. She sips her wine as she studies me. “You killed my husband.” I don’t bother to respond to her comment. She doesn’t care what I have to say. If she did, she would have asked me if I did it. And if so, why. All she cares about is revenge. The who, what, and why of it doesn’t matter to her. Turning to Nathan , I realize he’s not once asked me either. They’re the same. Part
“Mmm. Is it that or that you have Natalia Kane in your bed?”I stiffen, feeling my heart leap into my throat. She knows my name?“Who I have in my bed is none of your concern,” Nathan says.“It is when that whore killed your father! That’s right,” she adds, “I know it was her.”My heart isn’t just in my throat anymore. It seems to have stopped. Suddenly, my blood pressure drops and every pore in my body releases sweat.“John ” I hear Nathan murmur just as I pull away.There’s walking, the sound of heels clacking against the wood floors. “John was loyal to Gustavo and Leo . Of course he would be loyal to me as well.”“Then he’s useless to me,” he says.“You’ve known it was her for days and have done nothing about it!” she shouts.“It is at my discretion to decide what and when I will do something, Katy .”“The godfather only has power so long as the men respect him. How do you think they will react when they find out that instead of killing her, you’ve been fucking her?”My mind racin
Or maybe I’ll just fuck you until we both die.” Her eyes fly open, and for a moment, there are no walls between us. The pain, betrayal, and lust are bared fully. “Then fuck me,” she finally says. “And maybe we’ll die together.” My mouth is on hers then. I slide my fingers from her cunt and we both work savagely at getting rid of my clothes. All the while, we kiss with a passion that only the dying know. The instant I’m naked, I’m inside her, thrusting, burying my dick all the way to the balls, pulling back out, and slamming home again. Natalia is wrapped around me, arms and legs holding me tightly against her as she lifts her hips up, meeting each of my thrusts. We fuck like we’re drowning and these are our last gasping breaths. Deep and desperate. She fits me like a fucking glove, her pussy tight around my dick, her body molding to mine perfectly. The way she tastes, smells, feels… It all fits me like no one else ever has, and for the briefest of moments, I almost wish I’d neve
I flip it open and freeze, focused intensely on the drawing of a pair of eyes.Myeyes. Only, they’re not the way I’m accustomed to seeing them. They have the same shape, same dark spots on the irises. There’s a deep crease between them. But in the drawing, they’re slightly upturned and crinkled at the edges, and there’s a slight gleam to them, as if I’m smiling.Because I was.Several times, she called my name, grinning so widely when I looked at her that I couldn’t help but smile. She captured those moments.Does light penetrate shadows, or do the shadows drown out the light?I asked that question not long ago. The answer is both. She’s managed to light up my eyes while I’ve filled hers with darkness.Blowing out a breath full of exhaustion, I set the sketch aside. Tired, I shut my lids and must drift off instantly, because a bolt of lightning that rumbles even through the sound barriers I’ve erected around the loft wakes me. Instantly, I glance at the door.Though she has access to w