He took her hand into his, squeezing her fingers. “We will never see each other again.”
“I know.”
“But I will never forget.” Wrath started the engine, putting the gear into reverse and hitting the gas. Danger. He lived for the concept, craved the rush of adrenaline more than anything.
Almost.
He kept both hands on the wheel as he drove, swerving around the curves with ease. He wasn’t surprised she had no reaction other than a smile. She was much of a danger junkie as he was. Hence the extreme attraction. He was enveloped in his own blackened world, a reminder that everything was precarious in nature. This had been his respite, the only one he’d allow.
As the lights of the city closed in, his heart began to beat faster.
And faster.
Suffocating his breathing.
Wrath had never been this stimulated or thrown so close to the pits of hell. As he rolled into the driveway of the hotel and casino, an odd sadness crept into his system. Nothing usually bothered him any longer in his jaded life, no loss or gain, no fracture of friendships.
But this was… excruciating.
They sat in the car as the engine idled, both staring out the windshield. Ashley finally turned her head in his direction then leaned closer, cupping his face as she kissed his cheek. “This has been… delightful.”
With that, she exited the Ferrari, taking long strides toward the entrance.
He studied her as she walked, her exquisite form and head held high with confidence. If karma had any sense of humor, they would meet again, perhaps under an entirely different set of circumstances. However, he would be prepared, ready to snap the last buckle on the tether that would keep her in his grasp forever.
At least he’d caught sight of the mark, Mr. Wallace’s departure from the club acknowledgement that he’d arrived in town. Now he had a job to do.
As he pulled his phone from his coat pocket, eyeing the single text given by the same young man working behind the reservation desk, he smiled. At least his luck was changing. If the kid was telling the truth, his mark was spending time at his designated Blackjack table. While patience certainly wasn’t a virtue, he would wait this out, enjoying the game for a little while longer.
Then he would disappear.
Fifteen minutes later he had a prime spot hidden in the shadows, his exit plans already altered. If his calculations were correct, Stephen Wallace would spend thirty-seven additional minutes attempting to win at least one hand. Win or lose, he’d finish his two hundred dollar glass of scotch and move directly toward his suite where he’d make a single phone call to a trusted associate. The consort would arrive approximately fifteen minutes later, spending no more than one hour in the room before leaving with a cool two thousand dollars in her swanky purse. By then, the intelligent but very naïve businessman would be under theeffects of the same date drug that had swept the streets of his home country.
What poor Stephen didn’t know was just how far reaching the tentacles of the Constantino family truly were, owning a solid fifty-two percent of the business, or a portion thereof, in Monte Carlo.
Including the high dollar dating service Stephen always used.
Anonymity.
Discretion.
Or so Stephen believed.
Tonight, the man’s horrible luck would continue, but it was something he’d never have to worry about again.
Wrath studied the casino floor, his vantage point allowing him to see a solid eighty percent of the room. There was no sign of Ashley, although every time he inhaled, he was certain her exotic perfume was the only one filling his nostrils. He had difficulty getting her out of his mind. At this point, the detriment was intolerable. Sighing, he turned his attention toward Stephen then glanced at his watch. Everything was going according to plans.
Within thirty seconds of Wrath’s determined schedule, Stephen Wallace finished his drink, tipped the dealer well, and headed toward the set of elevators, stepping inside an empty steel box. He followed the American, immediately moving toward the set of stairs. Wrath took them two at a time, counting off the seconds in his mind. He’d calculated the elevator’s speed with no additional stops. He moved into the hallway, simply passingby the elevator and barely darting a look before moving into the alcove housing the ice machine. Another excellent vantage point.
The ping of the elevator made him smile but as the doors opened and no one stepped off, his skin prickled.
What. The. Fuck.
Wrath waited until the doors were ready to close before bounding toward them, hitting the button. The doors slid open again, revealing a very empty elevator. For the first time in several months, beads of sweat formed over his brow as his heart rate increased.
He took a deep breath and walked inside, looking for anything that might provide a clue. Turning in a circle, the shimmering set of LED lights allowed a glint. Crouching down, he immediately recognized the necklace. He was thrown, rage creeping in for a few seconds as he accepted the meaning of the find. “You little wench.” He pocketed the locket, stood and slammed his hand against the cold steel just as the doors opened into the lobby.
The American female was damn good at being an operative.
