She kicked off her heels, threw her wrap across the futon, and kept muttering to herself, pacing, ranting, vibrating with fury.
She stomped into her tiny bedroom and started to change her clothes. Heat coursed through me as she peeled off her dress—her spine curving in a delicious arch—and I was given a glimpse of her firm thighs and ass.
When she turned toward the camera, I noticed her nipples were hard. Even angry, she was still desperate for my touch.
I adjusted my position, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. I shouldn’t have given her five minutes of my time. Hell, I should never have even checked her background.
But I had. And now…Rory was right—I was invested, conflicted.
Who the hell pretended to be her own dead sister just to survive in New York?
Who thought working at a place like The Sacrifice was just a job?
And why, out of every woman I’d ever met, had this small-town stray gotten under my skin and taken up permanent residence in my fucking brain?
I was spiraling—I knew it—but still I wanted more.
My phone rang. Lucian Byrnes’s name flashed on the screen—one of the owners of Club Xyst, and a man who never called me. I closed out of the live feed and answered. “Yes?”
“Volkov,” his voice rang through. “We’ve got a problem.”
Of course we did.
“What kind of problem?”
“Slade flagged a Mara Salvatrucha heavy walking into the club. Recognized the face. Says he’s part of Delgado’s inner circle. He strolled in like he owned the place. With Jarvis fucking Hayes, the mayor’s brother.”
Hmm, that didn’t bode well.
“Where are they now?”
“In the casino. Drinking. Smiling. Real cozy.”
I cursed under my breath and muttered to Rory, “Xyst. Back entrance.”
He nodded and changed course, pulling into the traffic heading south.
Lucian kept talking. “Facial rec confirms he’s a Palabrero—Raul Castillo. Street name’s El Pastor. Former enforcer for MS-503 in Guatemala before Delgado pulled him up here.”
“Good work,” I said tightly. “Keep eyes on him. I’m on my way.”
I ended the call and stared out the window. Street lights slid past as my temples started to throb.
MS-13 was moving in fast, trying to stake their claim on the city—hell, on the entire Eastern Seaboard—buying favors and making alliances. Ciro Delgado was announcing his presence like a fucking matador waving a red flag.
And I was busy chasing a girl in a black dress.
Fuck.
I dragged a hand over my face.
Lyla wasn’t just a distraction.
She was a goddamn liability.
And the worst part?
I would never be able to stop wanting her.
