Nine
It was all coming together as he’d planned. Romero Burleigh glanced out of his hotel at the ocean waves crashing around him. He’d spent way too much time in that shitty townhouse with men far beneath him. Romero had plans, and frankly, he burned with vengeance, needing to see those plans come to fruition.
He gripped his bourbon, doing his best to concentrate on the end game and not on the petty revenge he’d once decided on. Who the fuck were Ice, Shadow, and Destroyer to look down on him for being an entrepreneur? He’d seen their files, and the bastards were no better than he’d been growing up.
He’d come back time after time, beaten down, yet not out. No fucking way. He’d survived termination orders, avoided contractors for the better part of two years, and now had a thriving part in the flesh trade. So many fingers in so many pies…
He had eyes on Solene Hansen’s business, Addison Rose’s elementary school, and Ice’s house. A baby landing on Ice’s doorstep had turned him soft, but not so soft he wasn’t still a challenge. Especially with Shadow and Destroyer on hand.
Burleigh snorted. Those fuckups were nothing but fodder for when the big plans finally hit. He might have started small time, but he’d worked himself up the chain, just a few rungs below the king. And he’d learned to be patient, to wait and watch.
With Ice settled into domesticated bliss, he was an easy target. Too easy. Boring. So, Burleigh instead focused on the others. He’d sourced a team to follow Destroyer, from his babysitting duties to his cross-country flights, noting everyone the big man met. Shadow was a bit harder to watch. The assassin moved in and out of the shadows with ease, hence his name. Taking him apart would be a pleasure. And knowing how vulnerable he was where Ms. Hansen was concerned only made his grand plans that much better.
Time to put the next piece in play.
He made a phone call. “Let’s get the body out there. I want to wrap this up. I have plans for Ecuador next Tuesday. I think Wilson prefers blonds.” He smiled into the phone. “Imagine how much fun the senator and Solene Hansen will have?” Just the senator and his leathers and Solene and a ball gag. Nowthathe’d pay to see.
He finished the call after offering a few more suggestions. As he stood and stared out to sea, he promised himself he’d never go back to India. Never allow himself to be exiled again. No matter who thought they owned him, they were wrong.
His cell buzzed, and he glanced at the number. “Yes?” he answered.
“Should I do it at the daycare, her house, or the woods where she likes to jog? Where do you want it to go down?”
“Her home, I think. It’s a much greater violation.”
“That’s what I was thinking.”
“Not a mark on her. I have plans for my merchandise. But feel free to let them know it was you all along.”
“Roger that. I’ll be in touch.” The caller hung up.
Romero kicked back in his reclining chair and smiled, staring at the growing storm, eager to see it let loose.
Two daysafter their sojourn to Seattle, Solene sat on her couch and stared at Deacon, wondering what he was thinking as he stared back.
He raised a brow. “What?”
“What what?” she said absently.
He had the most amazing features. That square jaw, handsome nose. Those firm lips had a warm touch, made just for kissing. His espresso-brown hair was soft, growing too long, according to him. But she liked the strands trailing down his neck, giving him a roguish appearance. She wanted to kiss his face all over, tracing his features, then make her way down his neck to his pecs, and lower. So much lower…
She wondered if there might be something wrong with her. For one, she couldn’t stop thinking about having sex with Deacon. She’d never been so desperate for a man in her life, and it didn’t help that the moment they’d returned to her home, he’d reverted to being standoffish. No more watching her shower, going down on her, insisting she blow him. All part of her sexual must-haves.
Nope. Deacon had gone cold turkey on the sex. Just two days of no Deacon and she wanted to climb the walls. Not normal at all. Then she’d been crampy and spotty when her period wasn’t due for another two weeks. No doubt aggravated by all the stress she was under.
To her shock, Deacon had learned that the woman he’d seen in Seattle, the one who’d given him such valuable information about Burleigh, had been found raped and strangled down by the Seattle docks this morning.
Solene hated the fear that continued to filter past her bluster and demands to be seen as strong. Who the hell was she kidding? This Burleigh guy scared the hell out of her, especially since he seemed more focused on capturing and not killing her.
Rape or death? What a choice.
Not wanting to dwell on that ugliness, she studied her handsome protector, looking for a flaw. She couldn’t find one. Not physically. Emotionally, he was distant. Sexually, he might as well have been cloistered in his room like a fucking nun. And yeah, she was probably going to hell for thinking that, but if she could get there on an orgasm, she’d take it.
“That.That look.” Deacon set down the entertainment magazine he’d been reading, muted the television, and leaned closer to her. “What isthat?”
She knew he was pushing her buttons. She just didn’t know why or which ones he wanted her to react to. Did she want the man? Hell, yeah. Would she beg him for sex? Not if he were the last guy on the planet.Did you hear that, self-esteem?That’s a big NO on begging for Deacon.She couldn’t understand why he suddenly found it easy to dismiss her charms.
She’d walked around in short lingerie. She’d forgotten to take her clothes into the bathroom to change and found reasons to walk around in front of him in a towel. She’d even had a long and drawn out conversation with him about sexual fantasies and what she was looking for in a man.
