I’ve chased that shadow.
Real shitbag. Oksana’s enforcer.
Charges don’t stick because witnesses disappear.
Or recant.
Or wake up missing fingers.
Blood under his nails and no conscience behind his smile.
If Juliet gets drawn in because of Vitaly, because of the chase, because she’s curious and starved for danger, we’ve got a problem.
A real fucking problem.
And I don’t let problems touch what’s mine.
Chapter Twelve
Juliet
“I saw him again,” I say, sliding into Elliot’s lap like I own the place. Because I do. “Mall. Either he’s tailing me… or the man has a silicone-level addiction to retail therapy.”
“Eyes on you again?” Elliot’s fingers are already at my buttons, undoing them with that scary precision that makes my clit throb in Morse code.
“Please tell me you ran his plate,” he says.
“I haven’t even updated his notebook,” I admit, dragging his zipper down. “Vitaly’s been hogging my research hours.”
My hand wraps around velvet steel.
“But you pulled intel on bakery creep, right?” I ask, squeezing just to watch his eyes flutter.
“Yes,” he breathes, pushing my panties aside. His fingers slip in, confident and hungry. “Now tell me everything about your sexy little mall ghost.”
I roll my hips into his hand.
God.
I didn’t know how much I needed this.
“We locked eyes through a rack of overpriced sundresses.”
He groans against my throat, teeth scraping. “Keep talking. I want that pretty little mouth busy when you come.”
“Not much. He gave me this slow smile… then vanished.” I lick a stripe up his jaw, tasting salt and aftershave.
His thumb finds my clit like it’s magnetized. “Is he turning you on? Or is he giving you ‘Callum needs to break his kneecaps’ energy?”
“He’s got that quiet-danger thing,” I say. “Like he kills people politely. We don’t have one like that.”
He shifts under me, cock nudging my entrance, thumb still teasing.
Then he thrusts up into me in one slow, perfect stroke.
“He looked at me like he knew something. Or wanted something. Hard to tell. Delicious.”
Should scare me.
