“That’s the Night Strikers.”
Shit. “For full clarification, you’re the leader of the Night Strikers…and you’re in the Twins?”
A slight inclination of his head.
Her stomach knotted. “The worst of the worst are pulled to join the Twins.”
“Then I guess you’re looking at the worst out there. Like I said, you fucked a monster.”
“No, I fucked a man, and I had the time of my life doing it.”
His lips parted.
“Where, exactly, will I wear this mark?” She’d never gotten a tattoo in her life. The idea of needles going into her skin didn’t exactly fill her with never-ending joy. But, she was an FBI agent. She had this. Totally.
“Anywhere I choose.”
Double shit. “You get to pick the tat’s location?”
“I pick the location and the design.”
“This feels like a really crappy game show. Do not pick something I’ll hate.”
He didn’t offer up any promises.
Damn the man. “I should mention to you that I don’t like pain.”
He didn’t blink. “I’ll hold your hand.”
Was he mocking her? And had she just heard the growl of…motorcycles? Faint, in the distance, but…
Getting closer.
“Tell me that you aren’t a cold-blooded killer,” Agnes demanded.
“Thought you’d profiled me. Is that what your profile said? That I’m a cold-blooded killer? I mean, I did just confess to offing my own father and my uncle so…” A shrug. A shrug.
They weren’t talking about the freaking weather. They were talking about lives. “My profile says that you are highly protective. That you will do anything to protect the ones you believe belong to you.”
But…If he killed his own father, his own uncle…
The profile on him had to be wrong. Didn’t it? Was she completely wrong about him? What could have been real fear sent goosebumps rising on her arms.
His hand rose, and he casually tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Guess what, Agnes?”
What, Cass?
“You belong to me.”
“Just…just for pretend.”
His hand lingered.
“Did you order the killing of Judas Long?” Anger hummed inside of her. And plenty of fear, too. Because…What if I am wrong about Cass? What if Gray is wrong about him? Gray could be blinded because they were family. As for her, maybe she was blinded because…
What? Because he was good in bed? Because maybe, just maybe, she’d developed one serious soft spot for a man who was far too dangerous when she should have known better?—
“Judas was dead the minute he went after you.”
