Great strategy, Katie. Really professional.
Pulling into his neighborhood, I try to calm my racing thoughts. But just as I near the gates, they swing open and a Maybach rolls out. My gaze snaps to it instinctively, and I frown. That has to be him.
I start following, keeping a careful distance as the luxury vehicle navigates through the streets. It doesn’t head to a club, a fancy restaurant, or any typical rich-man haunt. No. Mystomach tightens with confusion when I realize where it’s actually going.
The police station?
I park across the street, watching as the Maybach pulls to a stop at the precinct’s front steps. The driver steps out and opens the back door. A woman emerges, clutching bags loaded with… something. She tilts her head as she glances up at the building, her reddish-blonde hair spilling down her shoulders. It’s Leni, Romero’s new wife.
I lean forward, my frown deepening when she climbs the steps and walks straight into a police station.
Why the hell is a mafia wife voluntarily entering a police station at this hour? With bags, no less.
The irony isn’t lost on me—sitting here as I am, watching her, with a dead man in my trunk, trying to figure out if she could be the solution to the bounty problem while my own situation is a ticking time bomb.
Do I stay and wait for her to come out so I can talk to her?
Or do I leave and deal with the dead body before it turns into an even bigger disaster?
I tap my fingers on the steering wheel, forcing myself to think. I need to make a decision. Quickly.
10
ROAN
I watch her car idling across from the police station, wondering why the fuck she’s stalking Romero’s wife. Why is she here?
I shift in my seat, trying to ignore the throbbing length in my pants that’s been aching mercilessly since I saw her fight that dickhead who called out her real name.
Katherine Pierce.Katie.
The name suits her better than Mia ever could.
Before I could even decide whether to make my presence known and step in to help her, she had the situation handled—the man fatally wounded and bleeding out at her feet. I don’t know if I should be impressed with her or horrified by how viscerally my body reacted as I took in the way she dominated her opponent.
She was lethal. And I want all that lethal power writhing beneath me, moaning my name as I fuck her into my mattress until she forgets every lie she’s ever told.
Focus, you bastard. This isn’t the time.
My phone chimes, and I glance down to see Dhimitër’s name on the screen.
Dhimitër
Frederik’s been released and I made sure the men know what happened—without revealing which maid he tried to harass. They know better now.
Good. One problem solved, at least.
Another message arrives in quick succession.
Dhimitër
She really doesn’t know you’re on to her?
A smirk tugs at my lips as I drop my phone and return my gaze to the rental car down the road, just a few spaces from mine. She almost caught me when she was leaving the alley, but my quick instincts kept my cover from being blown.
Then again, she wouldn’t expect to be followed by me, not when she’s been sneaking in and out through that sewer line for God knows how long without being discovered. Which raises an interesting question:
How the hell did she even know it was there?
