Kian returns, already changed into a pair of pajama pants and nothing else, and as I watch him grab his toothbrush, my pussy clenches.
He’s a walking lady-boner. I imagine women are crawling all over him whenever he’s out and about on The Strip. I may need to start carrying a cute little knife in my purse so I can slit their throats if they get too close.
I smile as I try to keep from giggling at the thought of doing something like that. Although I just might when it comes to Kian.
We stand at the double vanity, doing something so mundane, yet there’s a charge between us. It’s been there ever since we met. Something I never would have believed could exist for me, except I can physically feel it around Kian.
As soon as we climb into bed, Kian reaches for me so we’re both on our sides facing each other. He lifts one of his tattooed hands and gently touches my face.
“I find it really fucking admirable that you’re using your money to help kids who can’t afford dance classes,” he says.
My heart swells and I blink several times, trying not to get emotional. “I don’t need all the money that was left to me. My mom liked to use money as a weapon to hurt people who she hated, but I want to use it as a tool for those who are less fortunate than me. If I can do something to make someone else’s life better, I want to do it.”
“Because you’re an angel,” he murmurs. “Too good for this fucked up world.”
He touches me gently as we stare at each other and I can’t help but notice how close I feel with him. How connected we are. Even in silence, it’s like we’re speaking fluently. It’s like my soul has finally found something special and it knows it.
When my eyes get too heavy to hold open any longer, I let them close while relishing his gentle, slow strokes along my skin.
“I think you’re pretty good too,” I whisper.
His lips touch my forehead just before he says, “I’m not. But I want to be for you.”
CHAPTER 34
Kian
“Jesus, fuck,”I swear when I walk into my office to find Cassian Black sitting at my desk. “What the hell are you doing here? Get out of my seat.”
Cassian chuckles, stands, and walks around to one of the guest chairs, lowering himself into one. “I felt like playing some poker last night, so I stopped by one of Xander’s clubs. Then I got bored and thought, why not go see Kian since he’s always so friendly to me?”
Rolling my eyes, I sit in one of the other visitor chairs and wait for whatever bomb Cassian came to drop on me because I have no doubt that, since he’s here, it’s not a friendly visit.
“I don’t think Lacey Ricci’s car accident was an accident. I think it was a hit.”
Every nerve in my body tingles as my stomach tightens and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
“Excuse me?” I ask because there’s no fucking way I just heard that correctly. No fucking way.
“Get your computer up and put this in it,” he says, holding a thumb drive.
My skin crawls when I insert the drive into my laptop.
Hundreds of files pop up. What the hell? I open the first one and then the second; both are articles about the accident. The next file I open is a death certificate for the driver who hit Ace.
“What is this?” I ask as I open a toxicology report and then an autopsy report.
“When I was reading articles about Lacey’s accident, I was looking into some of the police reports and photos the detectives took, as well as the autopsy and medical report. Nothing in the police statements indicates they suspected the driver was under the influence or that they smelled alcohol on him. I looked at the toxicology report, and his blood alcohol level was less than .001. There was another toxin in him that wasn’t listed anywhere. It’s not even available here in the States. It’s a mushroom that causes cardiac arrest within minutes of ingesting it. That shit is what killed him on its own. I think he was dead before the accident even happened.”
“What the fuck?” I scowl at the toxicology report, trying to make sense of it.
Cassian pulls up a photo of an enormous, bald man, covered in tattoos everywhere except his face. “The mushrooms have only ever been found in Albania. Dreq Hoxha. Dreq means demon in Albanian.”
Shaking my head, I stare at him, still not understanding. “Can you connect the dots a little faster, man? What are you telling me?”
“Dreq Hoxha is known in the dark world as the Albanian assassin. He’s a contract killer. He kills anyone, as long as there’s enough money offered. His primary way of killing and getting away with it is staging an accident.”
“How do you stage an accident?” I ask. “Ace nearly died. There wasn’t anything fake about it.”
