Beatrice’s POVI find myself drawn to my brother's photo like a magnet. With no one else around, I can really take a moment to look at him and remember. But this version of him feels different from the brother I knew. He was my older brother, my mom's other kid. Twelve years older, he always had my back, took me to the movies, drove me to Tae Kwon Do, cracked jokes, and teased me. The tough guy in the picture is a stranger to me. “Like what you see?” Terry’s voice catches me off guard. I mentally kick myself. Getting lost in my thoughts here isn’t smart. “Do they all end up dead in the ring?” I shoot him a glance, trying to act like his presence doesn’t bother me. “Nah.” His sleazy grin disappears. “That one got taken out like a dog in the street.” “By you?” I raise an eyebrow, my mind racing for answers. “Not even close. Claude was our golden boy, sweetheart. We would’ve gone to war over him if we ever found out who did it. He was an incredible fighter.” His lo
Beatrice’s POVA couple of weeks later, I’ve managed to dig up some secondary info that could help with a conviction, but neither of them has let me in on their chats. Those seem to happen while I’m either asleep or off doing something else. My skills aren’t getting much practice. Instead, they circle each other like boxers, more focused on defense than actually landing a punch.I’m whipping up some lunch when Flint walks into the kitchen. “Heard we’ve got company coming over tonight.” He grabs a coffee mug from the cupboard next to me.“Yep,” I reply. “Got a problem with that?” I don’t even look at him as I add more Tabasco to the sauce on the stove.“If I did, I wouldn’t be talking to you about it.”“Right, you’d go chat with your brother.”Flint raises an eyebrow while pouring himself a cup of coffee. “Yeah, I would.”“It’s not cool to make fun of his accent.”“He’s my brother. I can do what I want. Just because it makes you all giddy to hear it doesn’t mean it’s not a bit ridicul
Beatrice’s POVIt takes a second for my eyes to get used to the low light of the strip club. The music isn’t exactly upbeat; heaven forbid the dancers actually have to move. Their bare bodies undulate on stage. I wonder how many of them are aware they’re actually stripping and that there’s a bunch of guys staring at them from below. As I look around the bar, I’m relieved to see James is on shift. At least something is going right today. Now, I just need to figure out how to get him alone. He’s at the far end, serving a single customer, while the rest of the crowd is huddled in the perv section. I’m so focused on James that I don’t notice the bouncer coming up to me. “You here for an interview?” I give him a smirk. “Not exactly.” He looks confused. “What do you mean?” “Flint De Luca sent me.” “Does Mr. Zhang know you’re coming?” “Not a clue. Flint just told me to show up, so here I am. You know how it goes.” The bouncer nods curtly. “Enjoy a drink on the house. I’ll find Mr. Zh
Beatrice’s POVI didn’t think twice and just hit the button while Dalton swerved again. The motorcycle jerked to the side with us. “Tris, what the hell!” he yelled over the roaring wind. “You’re gonna get me killed!” As they leaned in closer, I took a deep breath to steady myself. My heart was racing so hard, I could feel it in my fingers. I shot at the driver’s leg, and the motorcycle swerved back into control. The guy on the back adjusted his aim, but before he could pull the trigger, I hit the rider in the arm. The gun fell to the ground in the dark, and the bike wobbled before speeding up next to us again. “Aim for their damn heads!” “I’m trying!” Not really. Killing people means a ton of paperwork with the bureau. This stuff is supposed to be preapproved. The driver fired off a bunch of shots at the car, but they missed. This guy couldn’t steer, aim, and shoot all at once. The passenger was slumped over, holding his arm. “Ram them!” Dalton swerved again, and
Beatrice’s POV “Mafia,” I correct her, raising a finger. “We’re way more than just a basic gang.” Her laughter echoes in the grand entrance, and when I turn my head, I spot Flint standing at the junction of the two sides of the house, hands tucked in his jeans pockets. “You off to spill some tea?” Sierra tilts her head. “Just catching up on how Tris nearly got herself killed today.” “Sounds like a bit of an overstatement.” “Oh.” She pretends to be confused. “You were there, huh?” Flint smirks slightly. “Not exactly. Dalton tends to blow things out of proportion.” I feel a flicker of annoyance. I’m not keen on exaggerating what went down in front of Sierra, but come on, let’s stick to the truth. We could’ve been in serious trouble because Flint wants Nolan back on his side. “We’ll catch you at dinner.” I pull her around the corner, heading through Nolan’s part of the house to mine. We reach the end of his hallway just as his bedroom door swings open. “Tris!”
Beatrice’s POVSierra is putting on another layer of mascara on my lashes when the doorbell rings loudly through the house. I decided to let her glam me up for old times' sake. I’m in a black dress that fits snugly on top but flows and is sheer at the bottom. It looks great and is comfy, which makes us both happy. “Sounds like someone’s arrived.” She examines my face. “Just one more coat.” “I’ll wake up looking like a raccoon.” “No way, because you’re going to take off your makeup like a good girl.” “You know I usually don’t wear much makeup. I’ll need a crowbar to get this off.” I gesture to my face with a smirk. “I’ve barely put anything on you. I wish I had skin like yours.” She flicks the mascara wand and leans back on her heel, checking me out one last time. “You look perfect.” Standing up, I smooth out my dress. “Do you think the people Nolan invited are here because of you?” “It’s the only thing that makes sense. He said he’d make it worth my while. I told
Beatrice’s POVFlint’s attention shifts to our group and then back to Connor. Nolan steps away from me to join them. Instantly, the guys switch to Italian, leaving only Sierra out of the loop on their conversation. She starts filling me in on the deal she struck with Thomas and Connor. I should be paying attention, but I can’t help but be drawn to the other chat happening nearby. It’s one of those moments where I wish I could split my brain in two. I catch bits and pieces of their talk, but the context is lost on me. A caterer walks in and leans in to whisper to Nolan. “Gentlemen. Ladies. Dinner is served.” He gestures toward the table. I take a seat at the far end. Nolan is at the head on my right, Sierra is directly across from me, and Connor is next to me on my left. Flint occupies the opposite end of the table. Even during dinner, it feels like they’re ready to go head-to-head. As the soup is served, Liam picks up the conversation. He glances between Nolan and Flint before s
Beatrice’s POVFlint downs his shot and pours another. “That’s a ridiculous question.” “I need you to tell me what happened.” “After all these years, you never asked anyone?” His intense gaze scans her face. “I was so close to dying. Just a hair’s breadth away.” She touches her chest again. “Why would I want to go through that again?” I’m chugging my beer, feeling a bit out of place while they dive into this heavy stuff. Their conversation feels personal, and it catches me off guard. “Didn’t you ever wonder why I didn’t come back?” “Every single day.” Her voice is thick, tears welling up in her eyes. Flint’s tough facade cracks a bit. He pours another shot, as if trying to drown whatever tension lingers between them. “Don’t cry.” “I’m drunk. Of course, I’m going to cry.” She wipes her tears and holds out her glass for a refill. “I should probably head out.” I glance between them. Finishing my beer, I set the bottle down. If I stick around, I’m just intrudin
Flint’s POVBefore I’m fully awake, I sense something is wrong. The room is too still, the spot beside me too cold. Her flowery scent lingers, but not in the way it does when she’s present.I sit up and rub my eyes. A hint of light peeks between the curtains. I don’t remember the last time I slept so soundly. Rare for me to tune out noises in the background, even in sleep. Alert is alive.Her stuff, strewn across the floor last night, is gone. I slept through her packing. Throwing off the covers, I check the bathroom to be sure, but I realize what’s happened. She went to Ireland without me. On the dresser is a mound of bills.Jesus.She paid me like I’m a fucking prostitute.Snatching my jeans off the floor, I tamp down the spurt of rage threatening to escape—at myself, at her. My room key is in my back pocket. Will my passport and other forged documents still be there?I dress in hurried movements. The money sits on the dresser. Not taking what she’d left is stupid, even if having the
Sierra’s POVThe smart thing would be to ask him to leave my hotel room, to step back, to readjust my shirt. After he leaves, I’ll satisfy my lust in another manner—that’s the smart thing. The tiniest part of my brain still knows that even as the timbre of his voice sends a shiver of desire racing down my spine.Whenever Flint is this close, my mind short-circuits, and it’s all I can do to remember my name. The sharp, tangy scent of him, the way he worships and devours me, the way his skin slides over mine, makes my senses go into overdrive, hyperaware, poised for release.“Fuck me,” I whisper, rising on my toes to press my lips against the sensitive spot on his neck.“I didn’t hear you.” His voice is guttural, on the edge of losing the control he has left.Glancing up at him under my lashes, I smirk. “Then I guess you should leave so I can take care of myself.”He deftl
Flint’s POVRage courses through me, an old friend. Last time I felt this surge, I shot an FBI agent. I’d love to shoot someone again.Eric.I take another bite of my burger and chew without saying a word to her. She’s eating her salad in silence, an air of grief around her causing a corresponding ache in my chest. I hate that fucking pressure bearing on me.I do pretty much everything in my power to never experience regret and longing. Since she rescued me, they’re constant fucking companions. Whenever they rear their heads, I tell myself, that’s the stab wound or that goddamned gunshot just reopened.I’ve never been a fixer. Nolan is, Sierra is, but me? I’m usually the guy creating the chaos. My mind churns with ways to fix this feeling in me, in her. The best I can come up with involves going upstairs and using our bodies to forget, to remember, to fucking drown in each other.There’s only o
Sierra’s POVFlint orders a burger and a beer. I get a salad and mineral water. I’m tempted to feign a trip to the bathroom to have my drink changed to vodka and soda. He’d never suspect unless he got close enough to smell my breath. A personalized breathalyzer is entirely possible. Since the lobby, he’s been looking at me like he could devour me instead of the burger.“Well.” I place my phone on the table. “You wanted me sober. What were you hoping to discuss?”Flint smirks. “I didn’t need you sober for the conversation portion of the evening.” He turns his hand as though he’s flipping an imaginary object over. “Only for what comes next.”His eyes are ice chips as they sweep over me. Ice isn’t what’s running through my veins. Heat. So much heat I want to fan myself. Instead, I squeeze my thighs together and pray for the server to have understood mineral water
Flint’s POVSierra goes into the office at the bank by herself. The building is shiny windows, gleaming metal, and polished floors. I’m not sure what I expected of a Russian bank, but not this modern.Jay and I are outside the door in case there’s any trouble. He’s glued to his phone, trying to chase up leads on Valeriya or the warehouse or any of the other fucking things going wrong. I miss having a device. Standing here with nothing to do gives me too much time to think.Part of me is annoyed Sierra didn’t see Valeriya for the lying bitch she’s turned out to be. Sierra has always been that way—loves hard, finds the best in people, even when she shouldn’t.The office door swings open, and she hitches her purse onto her shoulder. Jay and I flank her.“And?” I ask.She takes a deep breath. “She didn’t move the money.”“That’s a good sign.” Jay stops fiddling with his phone and tucks it into his pocket.“She cleaned out her accounts. There’s no way to trace her.”“At least you were righ
Sierra’s POVWe’ve made Valeriya’s apartment base camp while we sort through her papers, search for clues. Jay is phoning airlines, checking security footage, calling taxi companies. Flint’s on a conference call with an IT company. They’re supposed to be hacking into her phone records or her email—preferably both.Seems like Flint’s right about Valeriya fucking me over. But since we don’t understand why she vacated her apartment, he can’t declare a complete victory yet. Or at least, that’s what I told him. Really the two of us sitting down for a sober conversation over dinner, discussing things beyond this work, terrifies me. There’s only the tiniest thread of my willpower intact.As I sort through the papers in a desk drawer, I come across a pile that stops me short. The surrogacy documents she signed. Back when I was with Eric, Valeriya responded to an advertisement I ran for a surrogate to carry a baby for me. In the end, the timing hadn’t been right, and I changed my mind.But I l
Flint’s POVSierra insisted on going to a Russian doctor she has on call to get me patched up before venturing to Valeriya’s again. I let him check me over while Sierra and Jay are out in the waiting room.“All clear?” I ease my shirt back over my head.“Minor issues,” the doctor says. “Be more careful. You’re not healed yet.”I grunt as I slide off his examination table. “You service the Evans employees?”The doctor scribbles a prescription for pain on his notepad, rips it off, and holds it out. “Yes. Why?”“Valeriya? I hear her father is some kinda’ mafia kingpin.” I don’t take my eyes off him, trying to assess his level of knowledge.The doctor’s face is granite. “I cannot discuss her with you.”“She’s a client?”“Enough that I cannot discuss.”I fold the prescription and tuck it into my back pocket. For a moment, I stare at him, wondering if I can get him to say more. My instincts tell me she’s making dirty deals. She’s been working an angle or more than one behind the scenes. Who
Sierra’s POVFlint's chest is pressed to my face. He's grappling for the gun at his waistband as his other arm helps shield me. It has to be the adrenaline. His injuries are still healing, and I've watched him walk enough the last few days to know he's stiff and sore. His movements are sure, fluid, painless.He glances at me, tucking his chin to meet my eyes. "Were you hit?"I swallow. My shoulder stings. Is the pain from a bullet or how he dragged me to the ground? "I'm fine."Flint breaks eye contact to scan the rest of the area. "Jay!""Here.""Ricardo?" Silence greets his second roll call. He has me pinned so close to the floor I can't see what else is happening."He's down." Jay shuffles to the door."Dead?" Flint says."Not sure.""Shit." Flint's free hand holds the gun, but our position means his back is to the entrance. "Any more shots?""Haven't heard anything for a minute.""Target?""Take your fucking pick. Could be you, Sierra, or Ricardo. You're all hot depending on who's
Flint’s POVThe next morning, Sierra wears dark glasses and won't meet my gaze. Is she pissed at me for what I said last night, or does she regret coming on to me? Probably both.We file into the car. Jay eyes the two of us in the rearview mirror but understands Sierra well enough not to speak. We're headed to the location where the FBI agent is holed up waiting for his forged documents to start over. Jay runs a tight ship for Sierra, and his ability to get shit done is impressive."How far away is this place?" I ask as the city fades into the distance."About half an hour," Jay replies."Perfect." I peek at Sierra's stony face and settle deeper into the seat. I slide my hands along my thighs, and I consider the least assholeish thing to say. "Sleep okay?""Shut up, Flint."Guess that wasn't it. "Jetlag can be a bitch."Sierra tips her glasses down her nose and looks at me over the top of them. My mind flashes to every sexy teacher fantasy I’ve ever had. As though she senses the tight