"Aurelio knows we’re here," Raf says.
"Well, fuck." Oksana curses.
"Great, let's get a better hotel," I suggest.
They stare at me like I’ve lost my mind. "What? We might as well live it up in style while we're here."
I hope the bastard is feeling the ground shift beneath him.
Oksana stretches, cracking her neck, rolling her shoulders. "So. What’s first on the agenda? Surveillance? Recon? Or do we walk straight into Valverde’s estate and start murdering until someone talks?"
Raf and I both stare at her.
She frowns. "What? I’m hungry."
I swear to God, she is the most bloodthirsty person I've ever met, and I've met a few, present company—cough, Raf—included. And yet, here I am, horny as fuck for her and more in love than I ever thought possible. Raf was right. Who is the insane one in this marriage?
I step beside her, brush a strand of hair—well, wig—off her cheek. "You shouldn’t have gone without guards."
"It worked out fine," she retorts.
"You were shot at."
"And you sent Toni to rescue me. My hero." She beams up at me, and I swear I don't know if I want to spank or kiss her.
"That’s not the point."
She grins. "Maybe when we get home, you can lecture me some more. Naked. With weapons involved."
Raf coughs violently, pretending he didn’t hear that. "I’ll… go check the perimeter."
He’s gone before either of us can react.
Oksana laughs, smug and dangerous. "He’s fun."
I pull her closer. "He’s a necessary tool."
She loops her arms around my neck. "So are you."
"On second thought…" We look up as Raf returns, looking for once in his life, speechless.
It takes Oksana and me a moment to see what has him all twisted. Guarded by Sasha, the last man I would have expected to see here walks in. Massimo Manetti. The Don of the Italian Mafia, La Famiglia, in Las Vegas. I met him briefly at some kind of family event years ago. La Famiglia and the Vegas family are now loosely connected through Massimo's second in command, Enzo, who is Marcello's father-in-law. What in the hell is he doing here?
"What the fuck," he spits before the door even closes, "are you doing in this dump?"
Ah. Classic Vegas diplomacy. And perfectly mirroring my sentiments. He scans the room, Raf’s hand hovers near his holster, Oksana lounges on the sofa like she’s on vacation, and I'm standing dead center like I own the place.
His gaze lands on Oksana again.
"Who’s she?" he demands.
"My wife," I say, smooth as silk, resting a hand on her shoulder. "Mrs. Conti."
Oksana beams at him with a smile so sweet it could rot teeth. "Pleasure to meet you."
She’s lying.
She loves this.
