She smooths a lock of hair off her forehead. “Nobody wants a war. Hendrix would not resort to violence.”
I wonder if my own mother would’ve been blind to my many faults. “Turn over my company to me, unfreeze my funds, and we’ll both go on our merry ways. Like you said, you also have plenty of money to go live a good life. Take Hendrix with you. He doesn’t have the connection with the crystals that I do. It’s a fact.”
“Right now,” she says, finally showing some emotion. Anger looks good on her. “If you die, you and I both know that power will increase in him.”
Another fact. We don’t know why, but usually one person can fully charge or use the crystals out of the four families. Right now it’s me. If I die, his power will increase. It’s something we’ve never understood and haven’t really bothered trying to solve.
“If he dies, mine will increase as well,” I say evenly. “I suggest you heed my words. I really don’t want to kill your son.”
Her hand trembles as she pushes back her hair. “It’s nice to know where you stand.” Her head held high, she walks around the bar toward the door. “It’s too bad, Alexei. Your father would be so disappointed in you.” She opens the door and sweeps out.
I free my gun from the back of my waist and wait patiently for about an hour. Apparently, they’re not coming for me tonight. Sighing, I pour myself another shot of the vodka and down it before pulling the folded piece of paper out of my pocket. I open it to read a series of numbers. I lean over the bar and scramble for a pencil. I use Reyes’s code to decipher the first three names. I don’t recognize these people I’ve promised to kill, so they must be from Reyes’s gang. The fourth name gives me some pause, as it’s a prominent businessman in town.
I’ll do the job because I promised, but I’m going to find out why Reyes wants each of these people murdered. I slowly write the last name and then sit back. Well, this is unexpected.
The final person on Urban Reyes’s termination list is Rosalie’s best friend, little Ella Rendale.
EIGHTEEN
Rosalie
I’m a little embarrassed to admit, even to myself, that I’m disappointed to find my bed empty when I tumble onto it. I haven’t been able to banish the memory of that spectacular orgasm, and I want an excuse to tear up the sheets again with Alexei.
Is that stupid? Yes, definitely.
Is that a violation of legal ethics? Without question.
Have I been spared? Of course.
Groaning, I turn onto my stomach, my ankles hanging off the bed, and tell myself to get up, wash my face, and disrobe. But I don’t move. Even with my eyes closed, the room is spinning around me. Just how many drinks did I have, anyway? Thank goodness Alana had both picked me up and dropped me off in her chauffeured car. While I won’t take advantage of my friend’s wealth, sometimes her good fortune comes in handy. Although ending up with Thorn Beathach might not be good fortune. He’s dangerous.
Like Alexei.
I snooze for a while and awaken with the room still dark and my clothes still on. Heat flashes into my face. Thank goodness my half-admitted and definitely moronic plan to escape reality for a night had not come to fruition.
Fingers dance along my ankle and smooth off my high heel.
I jump and flip over, partially sitting up. “What?” Then I stop breathing. Alexei stands in front of me, his scarred torso bare, his face blanketed by shadows. Moonlight streams around his strong body from the window behind him, caressing him while leaving his front in darkness. Like an apparition. One with cut muscle and long-ago healed wounds.
I swallow.
Without speaking, he reaches down and removes my other shoe.
I scamper away from him, sitting all the way up.
He cocks his head, but I can’t see his face. His eyes glow an unholy hue. “Why are you on the bed clothed?”
Barely clothed, really. The silk skirt has ridden up to the top of my thighs, and the slender straps of my tank top are halfway down my arms. My vulnerable state penetrates my still foggy brain. “I fell asleep.”
“I see.” Without seeming to move, he sets his body between my legs, flush against the bed. One finger tugs my strap down more. “You been drinking, Rosalie?”
“Yes.” I swallow, tucking my elbows to my ribs to prevent the top from falling. Why had this seemed like a good idea?
His other finger finds the other strap. “Did you mean to get drunk?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
He pulls and the straps slide down my arms while the tank drops to my waist. “You never need an excuse with me, Kotik.” With his fingers still wound around the straps, he also clasps the bottom of the tank and pulls everything over my head. Cool air brushes my breasts, bringing me back to reality completely.
