(Emily's POV)My grin grew wide, "Just tell me the truth. You can't spend a day without my presence, am I right? My dear husband."His lips grew wider, maybe on how I teased him or the way I called him 'my dear husband'. However, my eyes caught something interesting.I nod to the corner of our booth, where a pair of silver handcuffs dangle down from a hook. "I could see you making good use of those," I say. His eyes searched for the interesting thing in the corner. "Depends," he growls, with eyes dark. "On how you behave yourself tonight..." I nod to the corner of our booth, where a pair of silver handcuffs dangle down from a hook."I could see you making good use of those," I say. "Depends," he growls, his eyes dark. "On how you behave yourself tonight..." Before I can answer, a waitress comes to take our order. "Is Francie here?"Francie who?She shakes her head with flirty eyes and darts to my husband. "Not yet, her shift will star
(Dimitri's POV)I wake up with my hands tied over my head, suspended from a meat hook. This is not a great position for me. I'm a big dude, and all that weight hanging from my arms for god knows how long makes them feel like they're about to be pulled out of the sockets.Plus my head is fucking banging.The last thing I remember is some dude that wasn't actually a dude doing the tango across the stage.Now I'm in some warehouse that stinks of rust and dirt. Under that, a cold, wet, rotting smell. And it really is fucking cold. Even in my suit jacket, I'm shivering. Maybe it's the after-effects of the drugs. My muscles feel weak and shaky. My vision keeps switching from fuzzy to clear, like a pair of binoculars going in and out of focus.Drugs. Someone drugged my drink. When I was sitting with... Fuck! Where's Emily!!!I whip my head around, looking for her. Thankfully, she's not hanging from a hook right next to me. But I don't see her anywhere in the deserted space, All I see is a
(Dimitri's POV)The blond one splits off at once, skirting the wreckage of the Molotov cocktail and heading through a side door. The bouncer heads straight for the main door, only to catch a bullet in the shoulder the second he walks through."Cazzo!" the Butcher hisses. (Shit!)He jumps behind me, in case the shooter is about to come through the door. But as we wait, no one walks through. And I know Zajac is torn, on the one hand, he doesn't want to leave me here alone. On the other, he's now unprotected himself. He has no idea how many people are storming the warehouse. He doesn't want to be caught in here if it's my men who come barging through the door.As the seconds tick by, we hear the confusing sounds of shouting, running, and something else smashing, but it's impossible to tell what's going on. The Molotov is still burning, in fact, the flames are spreading across the cement floor somehow. Perhaps the paint is burning. It creates clouds of acrid black smoke that make us swe
(Emily's POV)Dimitri is all patched up. He needed stitches for a couple of the slashes, but now you'd hardly know he'd been in a fight. I, on the other hand, have to wear a giant cast, since apparently, that idiot bouncer broke two of my fingers when he slammed the trunk on my hand. Now I'm extra glad I shot him.And because of my injuries and being busy with our second wedding, I need to take a time off from working and focus on our goal. Also because of this cast, it's making it damn hard to type anything on my phone, which is annoying, because I have a very important thing to do, and I don't want it getting all fucked up because I can't check my email."I can help you with that," Dimitri says, reaching out to take my phone. "You can dictate, and I'll type.""No!" I say, snatching it back. "I don't need help." "What are you doing?" he asks suspiciously."Just nothing," I tell him, tucking the phone back in my pocket.He frowns. He's already on edge because we're supposed to be pr
(Dimitri's POV)I'm sitting at the table, surrounded by my men, basking in the glow of victory. We just got back in California. Our days in Bali will remain a memory. I'm also thankful that it's not our honeymoon or Zajac's head would float all over Bali's ocean.I find myself tuning out of the conversation because I want to look at Emily instead.I can't believe she stayed at Zajac's warehouse, looking for me.She could have been killed, or at the very least, recaptured and held hostage until my men returned the money they stole.She could have just run the moment she escaped the office. But she didn't. Because she knew I was somewhere in the building, probably being tortured, possibly being killed.I was frightened to see her hurt again because of me and I don't want to lose her.I've come to respect Emily and love her, too. I like the effect she has on me. She makes me more reckless, but also more focused. Before I met her, I was going through the motions. Doing what I was supposed
(Emily's POV)I'm sitting across the table from my new friend, Drake Lee. He passes me the little box I've been waiting and hoping for all week long, and I open the lid to peek inside."Oh my god, I can't believe it," I breathe. "I know," he laughs. "This was the hardest one I've ever done. Took me three whole days." "You're a miracle worker. Honestly."He grins, almost as gleeful as I am."You mind if I put the whole thing up on my YouTube channel?" he says. "I was wearing my GoPro the whole time, got some great footage.""Of course!" I say.I close the box, still hardly believing what I'm holding in my hand, and I stow it back in my purse. I give Drake a slim envelope of cash in return, the amount we agreed upon, plus a bonus for saving my fucking ass. "Well, call me if you ever need me again," he says, giving me a little salute."I hope I won't need you," I laugh. "No offense.""None was taken," he chuckles. He raises his hand to signal for the waitress."I already paid for the
(Emily's POV)I wouldn't have gotten in the fucking trunk if I knew how far Oliver was going to drive. I feel like I've been in here forever. Also, I drank a lot of water with lunch, and I really have to pee. Also, I'm worried about what Oliver might have done with my purse. He wasn't stupid enough to put it in here with me, unfortunately. I'm anxious that he just chucked it out of the window or something, which means that my precious little package is already missing again.For a long time, I can feel that we're on the freeway smooth, steady progress in the same direction. Eventually, we turn off and start driving slowly and erratically down roads that are obviously narrower and less well-maintained. A couple of times the car jolts hard enough that I do hit my head on the top of the trunk.I've been hunting around in the dark, looking for anything useful. If there was a tire iron back here, I'd use it to brain Oliver the second he opened the trunk.At last, the car slows down. I thi
(Emily's POV)"I need to pee," I tell him again as he forgot."You can do it with the door open," he says.I glare at him, in a stand-off between his stubbornness and my throbbing bladder.I can only last a few seconds. I drop my pants and sit down on the toilet, letting go. The pee comes thundering out, with more pain than relief.Oliver stands in the doorway, watching me. There's a tiny smile at the corner of his mouth. His eyes look hooded and pleased.I wish he would turn the fuck around and give me some privacy. Or at the very least, I wish I wasn't peeing for so long. It seems to go on forever, and it's fucking humiliating.He's right, though, if he'd left me alone in the bathroom, I would have climbed out the window in five seconds.When I'm finished at last, I pull up my pants and wash my hands, wiping them dry again on my clothes, since there aren't any towels.Oliver watches this too, with a scowling expression. I think he's looking at the cast again. Then I realize he's act